The Glass Queen (The Forest of Good and Evil #2) - Gena Showalter Page 0,148

his power before I delivered a more substantial wound. Or deliver an injury so severe he couldn’t mend it.

Blink. The goblin stood directly in front of me, his body like mist. Mist that entered me. Possessing my body, just as Leonora must possess Ashleigh’s. I lost control of my body, and I couldn’t wrest it back. Panic closed in.

On one side of me, Milo approached. On the other, the wolfin. Was the warlock working with the others to take me out? Come on, come on. I grappled with the goblin internally... Come on.

Milo grinned as the wolfin drew back his hand, claws bared. About to strike...

Grappling faster... Yes. My limbs unlocked, the goblin bursting out of me. He solidified as he stumbled, allowing me to grab him by the shoulders and yank him against me. The wolfin’s claws raked through the goblin’s throat.

The goblin careened backward, eyes wide, hands pressing against the wound as blood spurted. He collapsed, his battle over.

Take the others out. Get to Ashleigh.

Milo and the wolfin converged on me. The warlock swung and jabbed at me with his daggers. The wolf swiped those claws faster while snapping his razor-sharp teeth. I avoided many blows, but I took plenty, too, sustaining wound after wound.

The rush of adrenaline dulled the worst of my pain, keeping me steady on my feet. I landed just as many blows as I received, exalting anytime I made Milo bleed.

“Face it, avian,” Milo taunted. “You cannot defeat me.”

Urgency quickened my motions. Metal clanged against metal as I blocked his next jab. The wolf worked his way behind me, but I couldn’t turn with him. I had to block another jab of the warlock’s dagger and settle for kicking back my leg, slamming my foot into his groin.

He moaned and hunched over. I went low and spun, swinging a sword at each of the opponents on opposite sides of me. One blade swiped air, Milo jumping back. The other blade slicked through the wolfin’s throat, his head flying off his body.

I faced off with Milo, the final obstacle in my path. We circled each other, both of us panting and splattered with blood. My feet dragged a bit; his didn’t. He appeared to be receiving energy from an outside source.

“I won’t let you have Ashleigh,” I spat at him.

“I want nothing to do with her, only Leonora.”

“You want control of her power.”

“I want what’s mine,” Milo hissed. “I am powerful. I should have been born to rule. Leonora sees this.”

Tone flat, I told him truthfully, “She’s using you.”

He swung at me then. I blocked, then drove Milo back pace by pace, swinging, swinging my swords without cease. He managed to block each blow, and with a single sword, no less; he had to move double my speed. Impressive. When I hit him with more spikes from my sword hilt, blood poured from little wounds on his chest. At last he began to tire, his breaths growing more labored.

His battle tells became more obvious to me—a rock back on his heels pointed to an incoming strike, and his gaze darted when he believed I had the advantage, as if he searched for a way out.

On the other hand, his eyes narrowed when he thought he had me cornered—like now. His lids slitted as he jumped up—

In every direction, thick spikes popped out from the dirt.

Two of them pierced my feet, slicing through one end and coming out the other. My back bowed, agony crashing over me. Acid in my veins, weakness in my muscles. Dizzy...

The ground-spikes were poisoned? One of my nasty surprises, then.

As Milo landed roughly twenty feet away from me—successfully avoiding the spikes, as if he had a premade map inside his head—I knew I had two options. Remain nailed to the dirt and allow him to behead me, or yank my feet free and finish the fight.

I roared to the sunlit sky as I yanked my feet free, one after the other. Black dots flashed through my vision...my mind felt as if I’d submerged it in boiling liquid. I flapped my wings to hover over the ground. Need to focus. Need to see. My ears twitched as I searched for a flat spot to land. Footsteps. The warlock approached at a clipped pace.

No, I didn’t need to see. I was an avian; I’d trained for all facets of war, including fighting blind. I knew to remain aware of changes in temperature...whispers in the wind...vibrations as I landed—Ignore the pain. There. A vibration,