Page 160 of Dhampira

“You’ll be safer upstairs.”

I shook my head. Inwardly, I cursed the gauntlets, which prevented me from touching his jaw. “This is my war now, Lorcan. I can’t run from it. I have to stand and fight.”

He stared. Then he gave a solemn nod as he brushed my cheek. “My brave queen.”

Not yet I wasn’t, but I gathered my courage and turned back to the fight unfolding around us. More werewolves poured from the trees and sprinted toward the courtyard. They clashed with Kristoff’s wolves, fur and blood flying as they battled. Kristoff was right. Not every alpha in Nocta wished to join my cause. But he’d evened the odds. He’d given me a fighting chance.

The battle raged, chaos reigning. It was impossible to tell Kristoff’s wolves from those who served the witches. Rasimir’s knights carved a bloody path through it all, several of their eyes turning black as they drained their enemies to death.

A high-pitched howl rose above the sounds of battle. Another wave of wolves poured from the forest, witches running among them.

“Rangvald Pack,” Kristoff said, appearing beside me. When I turned, blood gleamed on his bare chest, which heaved as he watched the new wolves sweep toward us. Sweat sheened his shoulders, and more blood splattered his face. He looked at me with hard yellow eyes. “They’re no friends of yours.”

Lorcan grabbed my arm. Vander emerged from the battle and stepped to my other side with a determined look on his face. “We’ll keep Corinthe safe.” The unspoken So back off hung in the air like a ghost.

Kristoff flicked a look at the gauntlets I held at my sides. “I can see that.”

Vander snapped his fangs at the alpha werewolf. “We need your wolves, not your eyes.”

Tension sprang up between them. Lorcan shifted forward as if he resented being left out of the brewing contest.

“Gentlemen,” I said, “we’re in the middle of a—”

The thunder of hooves cut me off. Maddox raced from the other side of the courtyard, his mane flying. Centaurs and kelpies ran behind him. The ground shook as a giant lumbered in their wake, his bare feet the size of boulders. Pixies sped through the air. Dryads with striated skin marched in rows.

Maddox neighed, his hooves eating up the ground. Somehow he’d summoned a Noctan army.

Vander turned and caught my eye. “That’s my horse,” he said, pride in his tone.

The two sets of newcomers smashed into each other. Werewolves snapped their jaws, biting and tearing. The giant flung wolves out of his way. I grimaced as he squished others under his feet.

Lorcan rushed forward and grabbed a sword from the ground. Flicking blood off the blade, he darted into the battle and began slashing at wolves.

A witch charged toward me and Vander. “Sezat!” he cried, his vor narrowly missing us.

Instinct took over. Stepping around Vander, I swung a gauntlet at the witch’s head. The man dodged, and my gauntlet swung wide, the momentum nearly spinning me in a circle before I caught myself. The witch straightened with a mocking snarl.

“You missed, bitch. And you’re losing this fight.”

Power hummed through me, and I opened my mouth and let it fly from my lips. “Irata!”

A copy of the witch appeared next to him. He paled as he stared at it, his eyes blinking in unison with his doppelgänger.

Oh. My magic was weird.

The witch and his copy turned to me in unison. I swung my gauntlet harder, nailing the original in the side of his head. Both the witch and his doppelgänger fell to the ground.

I huffed. “Didn’t miss that time.”

Vander gripped the original witch by the shoulders and dragged him across the stones to me.

“If you drain him, you can free the statues,” he said.

I dropped to my knees and plunged my fangs to the witch’s neck. Blood pumped down my throat. The monster inside me howled. Power beckoned, and I followed it down, down, magic sparkling in my veins. An image of soaring cliffs formed in my mind, and the scent of salt and the sea filled my nose. A woman threw her head back and laughed. Gray towers rose above a vast city with deserted streets. Tattered banners fluttered in the wind, the centers stitched with a snarling gargoyle.

The witch went limp. His heart stopped beating, and I wrenched my head back. On the ground, the witch’s copy winked out of sight.

“Sezat,” I gasped, and the vor was mine.