Page 3 of And So The Storm Screams

Metal clashed against metal, sending sparks flying into the moonlight. Half of Maelsar’s shield dropped, leaving a barrier only at our backs.

A cry rose and died in my throat as I faced dozens of guards, their sneers reflected in the thousand jagged shards of mirrors littering the ground.

Four lunged for my mate at once. Pain seared our bond as he stepped hard onto his injured leg to pivot beneath a mace.

Maelsar’s teeth gritted as warriors closed in on all sides. He thrust his blade toward a sentinel who leaped for me, slicing deep into his abdomen. Ruby spilled from the male’s lips as he collapsed to the ground, pressing into the wound like he could contain the flow. The rest of Maelsar’s attackers watched on with blank expressions.

“Sylaira,” he hissed, “finish him.”

But I could do nothing but watch, paralyzed by horror, as the male coughed and attempted to rise.

A roar ripped my attention to the Issaraeth. I took a slow step back as he crumpled to the ground, cradling his arm. Blood poured from his shoulder like the waterfall I’d Seen in my vision. Only one guard remained above him, teeth baring with victory.

No!

“Stop!” I screamed, more instinct and insanity than fright. But the royal sentinel did not heed me, for he did not obey my command.

Agony ricocheted down our bond as Vaeron tried to raise his sword arm. A jarring, sharp pain shot through me, robbing me of air. Silver clattered against marble and broken mirrors, leaving my mate defenseless.

The half-dead male snatched my ankle, and I tumbled to the ground. With a cry, I wrenched my leg, freeing it from his bruising grip, and pounded my heel into his skull.

He went limp, and I scrambled backward, palms slicing on the edges of reflective glass.

And above, the Goddess Moon watched, distant and cold and judging even now.

The Issaraeth opened his mouth, air sucking into a single point of his throat.

“FREEZE.”

The warrior did—for the briefest of moments. But a slow blink, the twist of his fingers, told me that all the hours Korona Iaoth had spent running him ragged had taken their toll. He’d gone into the trial with little remaining in his well, and he had expended much of it pretending to fight against Herr Elyriane.

“Maelsar!” I shouted, but he was surrounded by a ring of blood-slicked warriors.

No one was going to save him. No one was going to save me.

The thought brought tears to my eyes. I’d known from the beginning we’d been doomed. I just didn’t think we’d end like this.

My mate’s magic cracked. The male stepped closer.

White detonated from me, flinging him backward. I ceased breathing as I stared at the male, waiting to see if he’d move again.

Why was everything I loathed—I feared—crashing into me all at once? I wasn’t a killer.

Goddess, don’t let me be a killer.

The Issaraeth’s focus snapped to me. Our eyes locked, two souls bared to one another, a mirror of the moment our bond had solidified.

“You have to fight. Get up and don’t back down.”

I wasn’t sure if those words were meant for him or me; they slashed deep cuts into my heart—deeper than the ones he’d already put there with his betrayal—all the same.

Steel flashed, and I raised my dagger like I was going to throw it at the warrior who would not relent his attack.

“You bitch,” he snarled.

The blade weighed in my palm. His death would stain my soul. But if I didn’t act, the Issaraeth and I wouldn’t see the sun rise.

My arm twitched forward–