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“Agh!” The Lyricans surged, slamming into Foalan’s hastily erected barrier.
Both sides were pushed back with Aeris and Eadaoin tripping over the dais.
“Help,” I shouted, addressing the jumping, screeching stragglers bringing the rear of the mob.
No one bothered to turn around.
“He’s dying! We need help!” I swiped at someone’s arm, and they swiped back—nearly knocking me off my feet. “We’re Lyricans,” I burst out. “We followed you to aid the noble cause of saving Elva, and now one of our own is dying!”
Two, three, half a dozen scrunched, glaring faces turned our way.
“Help me save him,” I demanded, “or you’re no better than the dead-inside animals you’re trying not to become!”
It took a beat, but two of the faces stopped glaring. They moved in our direction.
“Calli? Riordan?” Suddenly strong hands lifted him off my back.
I blinked at her. “Shadi?”
“Oh, Meya, look at him,” Shadi hissed, feathers ruffling. “Of course I’ll help. I used to be good a healing spells,” she said, carrying him outside the door and away from the fighting. “I’ll do what I can for him, whileyou”—her face hardened—“help them kill that beast.”
I just nodded.
Only when I saw her begin the healing spell, did I turn away, and ram my shoulder against the wall of bodies. “Down with Shadowsoul! Down with the faeriken!”
I shouted my nonsense, shoving through the crowd, and they parted way. Seeing anormalfae, hearing my chant—they let their sister-in-arms by, and chanted with me.
“Down with the faeriken! Down with Shadowsoul!”
I made it to the front, my soul coming alive to finally be near him. “Alisdair!”
Foalan’s barrier collapsed. No less than seven magical blasts sped through the air, hitting Bradach all at once. He plummeted to the floor, and Foalan reacted on instinct. Spinning, his hands shot toward his falling friend—the crystals sewn on his sleeves glowing.
The stampede surged up the dais, slamming into Foalan’s back and trampling him. Bradach crashed onto my throne, tipping it over on top of him.
He didn’t get up.
“No!” Aeris and I screamed.
The mob descended on Alisdair—kicking, punching, tearing, stabbing, and attacking with their stolen purple flowers.
My love disappeared under the mass of bodies.
“Stop it! You don’t know what you’re doing! This isn’t how to break the curse!”
“She’s right,” someone shouted. “This won’t break the curse.”
“Yes!” Hope soared as I fought harder, shoving through the crush and flying limbs. “Leave him be and I’ll—”
“We need his worthless rotting heart to save Elva!” shouted that voice. “I bet the beast will be more open to sharing its location when he’s short a few fingers!” A sword lofted high over the bobbing heads, and fell in a swift arc.
“Arrggh!” Alisdair roared, shredding my heart.
Boom!
The floor heaved, exploding us off our feet. The entire mob blew off Alisdair, taking me with them. I whipped through the air, screaming as the cold, hard stone rose up to meet me.
“Gotcha!” Hands seized me under the arms, yanking me up just in time. “Don’t worry, my lady. I’ve got it from here.”
