Page 183 of The Dragon and the Dove

As she fought to undo his breastplate, he reared up, smashing his forehead against hers. Blood poured from her nose and filled her mouth.

She slammed the heel of her palm into his nose. There was a satisfying crunch. His eyes rolled back in his head. Shoving his chest and pinning him to the dirt, she grabbed her knife and brought it to his neck. She pressed it down until blood beaded onto the blade.

‘Hold still,’ she growled through her teeth.

‘Why? So you can kill me in peace?’ he snarled.

She tugged roughly at his breastplate. The metal was slick beneath her hands, the smeared blood ruining her grip. She slipped forward, and her knife bit in.

The prince roared. ‘GET THIS BITCH OFF ME!’

The first line of Rose-bearers reached the arch, searching frantically for the prince. But the spill of her cloak hid them well. They skidded to a stop in bewilderment.

Sera tore off the prince’s breastplate just as he ripped off her cloak. Their shadow collapsed, revealing them in a sudden wash of sunlight.

Soldiers swarmed the arch.

Theo swung, beating them back.

Sera ripped the stained collar of Andreas’s undershirt and pressed her hand against his chest. His heart thundered madly under her palm. His terror was so human, so close to her own that she might have felt sorry for him if he wasn’t such a tyrant. All she had to do was think of Bibi and Fabian, to listen to the cries of a city on its knees, to remember why she had fought to come this far. Why she must go all the way to the end.

‘SERA!’ Theo was falling back. Still swinging but losing ground. ‘NOW!’

Magic roiled inside her. This time, instead of the rampant flow of her own power, she felt a strange juddering, heat gathering in the liminal space between her and the prince, as though it wasn’t quite sure what to do.

Pull out the thread, she whispered to the force inside her.

Break him.

Unmake him.

Take back what he stole.

Her body jerked. It felt for a moment as though an invisible fist was squeezing her insides. It tugged. The prince bowed upwards, arching towards her touch.

All around them, his soldiers stilled.

Theo heaved, steadying himself against a pillar. Sweat soaked his hair, mixing with the blood on his jaw. His armour was badly dented, his sword arm heavy at his side.

Sera’s hand on Andreas’s chest sizzled. He screamed, the scent of burning flesh filling the air. Agony suffused her, snatching the breath from her lungs. She gasped out.

‘It’s working,’ said Theo, who hovered just beyond her bubble of pain.

The heat was unbearable. She felt, rather than saw the hole burning in the prince’s chest, then the flood of his magic pouring out into the ether. The problem was, it was burning her too. Unmaking Andreas’s gift was taking every last drop of hers.

This is the cost, Maker.

Tears streamed down Sera’s cheeks. For the first time, she felt the bottom of the well inside her, the dregs of her power turning to wisps. It was the last of it.

Swords clattered to the ground as Andreas’s soldiers stirred from their compulsions.

‘Keep going,’ urged Theo.

Her soul buckled. Something vital was leaking from her, and it was more than blood. More than tears.

It was life.

Destiny.