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Why will no one listen to me?
“And you’re going to stop us how?” the dark-haired elf, Elodie, snipes, folding her arms and tapping her foot. She reminds me of the girls who taunted me when I was growing up. The disrespect in her tone jogs a memory. More than one memory. A hoard of them, barrelling into the back of my skull.
I see Maura’s face, and the faces of all those who have ever betrayed me.
I spin around, stride towards Eldrion, and grab the dagger from his waist. My heart is racing, beating a savage rhythm I cannot ignore.
I curl my fingers around the hilt of his blade. The one I know he keeps there because I feel it every time we embrace.
Eldrion does not stop me as I stride forward and grab the dark-haired elf by the shoulders, yanking her towards me. He tilts his head in curiosity.
And with him watching me, I feel stronger.
Elodie shrieks, and tries to fight me, but my magic is already binding her to me. Her back is pressed to my chest. My smoke creeps up her legs and around her waist.
I tighten my fingers around her neck.
“Alana, what are you doing?” Briony has rushed to my side. “Stop.”
But I will not stop; Eldrion taught me this trick. He taught me that sometimes a show of power is necessary.
And if he will not do it, then I will.
I raise the blade to her throat.
“All right, we’ll help you.” Garratt rushes forward. Others agree, begging me to leave her alone.
But Garratt is too late. My blade has sliced open his girlfriend’s throat.
I meet his gaze and tower above him, still holding her against me as her blood drips down the front of her clothes and her body goes limp in my grasp. “You’re right,” I tell him. “You will help us.”
TWENTY-ONE
Kayan
The elf’s eyes are still open. She has a beautiful face. Small, and round, with big green eyes that stare up at the darkening sky, reflecting the gathering storm clouds.
Her neck is open like a mouth with no teeth. Red, gaping, dribbling dark red blood onto the cobblestones.
Alana is breathing hard and fast. Her chest rises and falls. Her hand shakes, but she does not drop the knife.
She looks up and sees me standing above Elodie’s body. She meets my eyes, but does not speak to me. Garratt drops to his knees beside Elodie. His hands hover above her body, then he slams his hand onto her throat and tries to hold it closed. The blood seeps between his fingers, coating them red. He presses his other hand on top of that one, but the blood is still coming.
It is in Elodie’s hair now, making it darker and thicker. It’s on Garratt’s shirt, too.
“Do something.” He looks at Eldrion. “Do something.”
Eldrion is stock-still, like a statue, completely unmoving. His wings don’t even twitch. Through their tips, the sun glints and casts strange pale freckles of light on Elodie’s porcelain face.
Alana still hasn’t spoken. She flexes her fingers on the knife’s handle.
Pria looks from Alana to Eldrion but says nothing. Then, slowly, she bends down and hooks her arm under Garratt’s, easing him to his feet. “She’s gone,” she whispers.
Garratt tugs against her, then meets her eyes.
“She’s dead, Garratt.” Pria nods at him. “She’s dead.”
Garratt pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s shaking. He stumbles backwards, staring at the dagger in Alana’s hand.
