Draeven Adelmar, rage thief, left-hand to the King of Norcasta, Tikkoh’s heir
They fought back-to-back until the skull appeared in the sky.
Draeven wasn’t sure what he expected to happen. He knew that Risk would be powerful when she came into her own. However, not even in his wildest dreams could he have guessed how powerful.
The air was charged with something unnamable and foreign to him. The storm over them swirled round and round, the thick clouds blotting out all sunlight. Risk lifted a hand into the sky, her fingers tipped in claws.
Her blue eyes glowed with power.
Lightning struck where she stood, but she did not scream. She did not die.
The single flash was blinding, and the aftershock singed the air itself.
Thunder clapped when she closed her hand into a fist.
And all as one, the entire battlefield and beyond dropped to their knees.
The mammoths toppled over each other, their riders thrown from the carriages on their backs. Any horsemen were kicked off as those beasts knelt.
Not a single head remained unbowed as far as his eyes could see.
Not even Lazarus.
Draeven sucked in a tight breath of air because he was the only one standing, beside Risk herself, and her familiar from the dark realm.
Seconds ticked by. She didn’t speak. The muscle of her jaw twitched, and he heard grinding. The vein in her temple seemed to throb as time passed.
Quinn and the firedrake cleared the mammoths without issue and continued forward, but Risk . . . she was holding the entire world at her feet to give her sister a chance. To give them all a chance.
Her breath grew harsh. Ragged.
Draeven faced her and took her other hand. She squeezed, and he nodded, accepting the punishing strength, helping her in any way he could so that she could hold on.
“Breathe,” he said quietly.
In. Out. In. Out.
He did it with her, and every painful hiss from her was like a stab to the chest.
Blue liquid dripped from her nose.
Her hand that gripped him was shaking, shuddering, trembling.
He thought he’d seen power. He thought he knew what its burden was, but there was nothing in the world like this woman.
Her onyx horns quivered as her legs shook, threatening to give out.
He didn’t look away to see where Quinn was, he just hoped that it was enough.
“Hang in there,” he said, clenching her hand back. “You can do this.”
Risk bared her teeth at him, a whine building in her throat. He continued breathing with her. In. Out. In. Out. He talked her through it as the minutes passed by, but he sensed her breaking point. She could bring the world to its knees, but to do so . . . blood now ran freely from her nose. Starbursts of blue lined her otherwise unblemished face. Vessels that had popped under exertion. Blood was just beginning to drip from her ears when she screamed, and all that power snapped back.
She fell to her knees, and Draeven released her hand.
Behind him, the horde had risen once more. Draeven turned to them and stood his ground. Nothing and no one was going to hurt her.
The old injury through his chest barely twinged as he—for the first time and only time—gave himself fully to the power of a rage thief.
With a battle cry that could rattle the mountains, he lunged into the fray. His vision stained red, and he felt the fury of a lifetime. His arms ignited in flame. It shot down his sword, turning the blade a gleaming red.
He didn’t even truly register it as the sword cut through flesh and blood and metal and bone. The limbs cauterized instantly, and those bodies that didn’t—they boiled, then exploded.
Copper coated his tongue as the minutes blurred together.
When there was nothing more than a pile of bodies, Draeven threw down his sword and turned back to Risk.
He looked at her familiar. Its body was that of a panther, sleek and black. Its eyes glowed blue as hers.
“We need to get her out of here,” he told the creature, hoping it understood.
Draeven reached for her, and it growled, but he didn’t back down. When she weakly accepted his help, the creature lowered its eyes in submission. Risk’s head lolled as he grabbed her arm and threw it around his shoulder. He grabbed her by the waist, thankful for how tiny she was given he was still injured and probably just made it worse. It was hard to tell with the rage still coursing through his system.
He turned to haul her