The Queen walks away from me, vanishing and then reappearing on the other side of the room. How did she do that? The faerie paths? She slashes her hand through the air in the shape of an X. Icicles materialize in front of her, and she pushes hard against them, sending them straight at Zell. He blasts away the final cords of vine and sends the icicles scattering with one sweep of his hand. They melt before they reach the floor.
“You don’t deserve to be immortal!” he yells at his mother. “I will never give you that necklace!” And with that, he launches himself at the Queen.
Hail, dirt and rain spin around them. They kick and hit and dodge as if in some furious yet expertly choreographed dance. I’m not sure how she does it, but the Queen never once trips over her gown. Despite the stinging pain in my wrists and the fact that I should be trying to escape, I find myself mesmerized. I’m watching Unseelie royalty fight one another; I could learn something from this.
As if he can hear my thoughts, Zell spins out of the way of a flock of crows and disappears into the passage. After throwing a giant ball of licking green flames after him, the Queen follows.
Great. I struggle against the vines, spinning myself uselessly around and causing even more pain in my wrists. I get nowhere. I give up and let out a cry of frustration. Zell and the Queen are gone, Ryn is gone, and I’m hanging helplessly from a ceiling in a long dress. This is so not my style.
“Look at you,” a voice below me says, “playing the damsel in distress.”
I glare down at Ryn. “Oh, how nice of you to show up. Where exactly did you disappear to?”
“I’ve been watching from the faerie paths.”
“And you couldn’t help me out a little earlier?”
“I was waiting for the right opportunity, like Zell and his mommy conveniently disappearing into another room.”
“Why didn’t you go back to the Guild for help?”
He frowns. “You’re my partner, V. I wouldn’t just leave you here.”
We stare at each other for a moment before I wriggle some more and say, “Well, are you going to get me down from here or what?”
He crosses his arms and tilts his head to the side. “I’m actually rather enjoying this.”
“Dammit, Ryn, I am in serious pain here!” I shout as tears begin to prick the back of my eyes. The skin around my hands and wrists is screaming out for relief.
“Sorry,” he says, hurriedly swiping his hand through the air. The vine connecting me to the ceiling is severed. I drop swiftly. Ryn steps forward and catches me easily, as if catching falling girls is something he does all the time. With the vines gone, I feel an immediate return of my power. The burning ache around my wrists and hands lingers on, though.
“That looks nasty,” Ryn says as he places me on the floor.
I look up and notice a shimmer in the air over his shoulder. A person exiting the faerie paths. “Hey—”
“Got you!” Savyon says. He steps deftly around Ryn and seizes me by the wrist. He grasps Ryn’s wrist in his other hand. A crazy second passes where we all seem to freeze, then Savyon jumps away from us. Feeling something cold on my arm, I look down. A band of metal encircles my wrist.
“No!” I shout, balling my fists in anger as I recognize the metal. “Dammit!”
“Fun, aren’t they?” Savyon says. “I found them hidden in Zell’s quarters at the Unseelie Palace. Seems my little brother has been hiding many fun toys from me.”
Furious at having to endure one of these magic-blocking bands for a second time, I pull my non-guardian knife out of its strap on my thigh and stab it into the side of Savyon’s neck without a second thought. He’s clearly so shocked I can do anything without magic that he barely manages to retaliate before Ryn kicks him hard in the chest.
“Is this what I think it is?” Ryn demands, holding his arm up as Savyon crashes into one of the couches.
“If you’re thinking that you’re now magic-less, then yes.” I dig my nails into my palms and kick my stupid dress away from where it’s getting tangled around my feet. Crapping crap! How are we supposed to get back to the Guild now? How are we supposed to finish our assignment?
Blood gushes from Savyon’s neck as he climbs to his feet, splattering dark crimson patches on the white couch. He yanks the knife from his neck and holds his hand to the wound. His voice is dangerously low when he speaks. “You just made a very big mistake.”
“So did you,” I say through gritted teeth. “You’ve now made it very hard for me to return to the Guild and complete my assignment. You just got between me and the top graduating position, and you have no idea how furious that makes me.”
Before I can make a move, one half of a broomstick flies through the air toward Savyon, followed closely by the second half. The two pieces of wood proceed to beat Savyon up as they screech wildly. “I’m kind of furious myself,” Ryn says. He looks at me from the corner of his eye. “Although I seem to be containing it better than you.”
The broomstick pieces come flying back at us, and we duck out of the way. Savyon vanishes the same way his mother did, then reappears right beside Ryn. He jabs my knife at Ryn, but I push Ryn out of the way and the knife slices across the top of my right arm.
Great, that won’t be healing for a while.
Ryn spins around and lands a punch to Savyon’s stomach, then gets forced back by a giant bat conjured up by a single word from Savyon. The bat flaps wildly around Ryn’s head as Savyon comes after me. He pins my arms to my sides just as I bring my knee up as hard as I can. His face contorts and he groans in agony, but doesn’t let go of me. He twists me around so my back is against his chest. He loops one arm around my neck.
“Mother thinks you must be important somehow, so I’m not allowed to kill you,” he breathes into my ear. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun with you. Shall we spend some time in my bedroom when we get back to the palace?”
“You’re disgusting,” Ryn growls, appearing suddenly beside us. “And if you’re looking for your magical bat, it’s currently crammed inside a clay jar.” And with that he brings his fist up to meet Savyon’s chin.
The Unseelie Prince loses his grip on me as his head snaps back. He stumbles away, regains his footing, and levels his gaze at us. “You know you can’t defeat me without magic,” he says with a maniacal laugh. He points his right hand at Ryn; the gesture is almost lazy, but the black sparks that shoot toward Ryn are powerful enough to knock him off his feet and into the air. When he hits the ground, he doesn’t move.
Crap. I need to check if he’s okay, but Savyon has set a new whirlwind into motion. Broken items lift off the ground and begin to swirl around me, trapping me in their funnel. I grab onto a stray piece of vine, then force my way out of the mini tornado, shielding my face with my arms. Tiny cuts sting my skin. My hand burns where the vine leaves touch it, but I’m not letting go of my only weapon. I lash out at Savyon, using the vine like a whip. The end catches him across the cheek. He grunts in anger as I snap the makeshift whip a second time. His hand flashes out and grabs the end of the vine. He tugs me forward, but I let go just in time.
“Come here!” he shouts. He reaches into the air with fingernails painted black. Against my will, I find myself skidding over the floor toward him. I try to fight it, but I end up falling over. I see light glimmering off a sharp edge and grab onto the shard of blue glass as I slide past it. The jagged edge slices into my already burning palm. But I can’t think about the pain right now. As I crash into Savyon’s booted feet, I raise my arm to stab the glass into his leg. He kicks my arm aside, and the glass goes flying. I throw myself after it, but he grabs my legs and yanks me back. My scrabbling fingers reach desperately for the glass, but I’m already being pulled away. Savyon drags me across the floor and flings me around so that my body slams into the side of the couch.
Pain!
I try desperately to suck some air into my lungs as I look around for something, anything, I can use as a weapon. Then I see it—the handle end of the broken broomstick. With all the strength I can muster, I reach out and wrap my blood-covered fingers around the wood. Savyon grabs my waist, flings me over onto my back—and I shove the splintered end deep into his abdomen, just below his ribcage.
He gurgles and chokes as I kick him away from me. Still gasping for air, I get to my feet and stumble over to Ryn. I shake him, then slap his cheek a few times with my non-bloodied hand. “Get … up,” I manage to say as my breath returns to me. I shake him some more, accidentally spreading blood across his white shirt. “Come on, Ryn, we have to get out of here.”
Nothing.
I lean over and speak right into his ear. “Please, please, please get up. I can’t leave without you.”
Nothing.
Then I see movement behind his eyelids, and he suddenly jerks awake. “What—how did—” He blinks as his gaze travels over me. “You look awful. Are you okay?”
I feel pretty awful. In fact, little sparks of light that I’m pretty sure aren’t real are beginning to dance in front of my eyes. “I’m fine.” I blink a few times as I stand up and tug his arm. “We have to run. Now!”
He jumps up and heads for the passage, pulling me after him. I hear Savyon shouting behind us, and I run as fast as my injured body will allow. I should be in a lot of pain, but adrenaline seems to be masking most of it—for now.
We run up the stairs and into Mr. Hart’s study, which looks like a hurricane hit it. The window has been shattered, and torn books and broken furniture litter the floor. Smoke catches in my throat, and I can hear screaming coming from the rest of the house. “Oh crap, what have they done?” I whisper. A group of coughing, choking people run past the open door. We step into the smoky corridor as a shoeless Mrs. Hart comes running in the opposite direction.
“The children are upstairs!” she screams, heading into the smoky darkness.
Ryn runs after her and grabs her by the arm. “Get her outside, V,” he shouts. “I’ll get the children.” He forces a struggling Mrs. Hart into my arms. “I promise I’ll get them,” he says to her. Then he turns and disappears into the smoke.
I drag Mrs. Hart down the corridor, through various rooms, and out the front door. Terrified guests are congregated in the driveway, their faces reflecting the orange glow of the burning house as they stare up at it.
“Get back!” I shout. “Get away from the house!”
They stumble further back just as an explosion causes the ground to shudder.
“No!” Mrs. Hart screams. She covers her face with her hands as she begins wailing. Her whole body shakes.
“It’ll be okay,” I say to her, patting her back as I try to ignore the growing pain in just about every part of my body. “I’m sure he’ll get the children—”A second explosion rends the air with a force that almost knocks us off our feet.
Oh flipping hell. For a few terrifying moments, I consider the possibility that Ryn might actually be dead. My brain rejects the thought almost as soon as I allow it in, though. It’s too foreign a concept. Ryn has always been in my life, whether as a friend or a giant-ass thorn in my side. He can’t just be gone.
And he isn’t. Instead of emerging miraculously from the burning house, I see him running around the side, the two Hart grandchildren in tow. “Look!” I say to Mrs. Hart, pointing at the three running figures. She makes a sound halfway between a wail and a laugh. She tries to run toward them, but I hold her back until they reach us. The two dripping wet children fall into her arms.
I refrain from throwing my arms around Ryn because that would be weird. Instead I ask, “Why are you wet?”
“Swimming pool,” he gasps, still catching his breath. “We had a few flaming clothes by the time we got out the house.”
“Edgar,” Mrs. Hart whimpers as she clings to her grandchildren. “David. Where are they?”
“We need to go,” Ryn says quietly as he takes my arm, which is a good thing because I feel a little bit like I might fall over. “I didn’t see the Queen or Zell anywhere, but they might be nearby.” Sirens echo in the distance as we slip away from the crowd. We run down the driveway, through the open gate, and onto the road.
“How are we going to get back?” I ask. I’m struggling to keep up with Ryn. Every inch of my body aches from being slammed against that couch, and my skin is on fire wherever the ivy touched it. Blood trickles down my arm and drips off my fingertips. Nausea creeps over me. I wish I had my boots on. I wish I didn’t have a dress slapping around my ankles. And why is everything starting to look white?
I don’t know how I wind up on my knees on the pavement with my stomach heaving, but that’s where I seem to be. I think Ryn is saying something, but I can’t hear him over the weird rushing in my ears. And everything seems to be getting whiter. Or blacker. Or white fading into black.
I try to fight it because that’s what I’m meant to do, right? But it’s such hard work, and Ryn is right beside me, ready to catch me, so why not give in?
I let the blackness take me.