“Because out of all the princes, past and future, you are meant to be mine!”
“I vow to you, Sorceress of the Seven Winds, it will never be so,” he says.
Thunderheads race across the sky, and with the brutal wind howling and tearing at my clothes, it’s a struggle to remain upright.
“Then I will have the girl.” Her palm thrust at my chest, Aer steps forward, and I brace for a bolt of magic, for pain, for death even.
Ever unsheathes his shining sword, at the same time spinning a squall in his other hand. Red leaves, feathers, and twigs gather in its rotating vortex, growing bigger until it surrounds him.
Unsure what to do with myself, I shrink against the rocky wall at my back. Balor stands guard at my feet, his fur bristling and red eyes glowing, and the sylphs swirl above like anxious nursemaids.
Aer laughs. “You think to use air magic against me, foolish boy? You cannot best me with the powers I’ve bestowed upon you and your people.”
“You mean the powers your sister Ether has given us? She is the spirit, the key to your own magic. All you’ve gifted the Land of Five is a curse. You are only capable of evil.”
“Perhaps you’re right, silver prince, regardless, you can’t defeat me. Have you forgotten I can call upon all five elements? You cannot possibly win.”
“But I can try.” Ever dips into a squat, then shoots into the air like a blazing arrow, his body twisting, turning, and spiraling until it’s engulfed in a thick black cloud. Heart pounding, I swipe chunks of hair away from my eyes to clear my vision, amazed at what I see. No, he hasn’t been swallowed by the cloud. Ever is the cloud.
The black vapor solidifies, morphing into an orange and silver animal about the size of a large stallion with the feathered head, wings, and body of an eagle, and the legs and tail of a lion. My armored warrior prince has turned into a terrifying creature straight out of ancient mythology—he’s a griffin.
The beast is spectacular, but the fact I’ve slept in a bed with it makes me sick with shock. I suppose Ever did warn me at Samhain that I might not want to see this. And now I understand why.
With a blood-curdling screech, Aer launches herself after him, her skin blackening, leathery wings sprouting from her shoulder blades as she hurls through the air in dragon form. The seven falcons give chase, their sharp beaks tearing at her scales when they attack, keeping her from reaching Ever. Flames blast from her snout—dispersing the falcons. The griffin soars from the clouds and strikes her like a winged cannonball.
In a riot of flapping wings and bone-chilling shrieks, they tumble and roll together, disappearing above the clouds, silver feathers floating into the wild sea below. As I wring my hands, all I can think is, that in his current form, Ever wears no armor. His body is completely vulnerable.
Rain pours. Lightning flashes. Squinting, I scan the sky and, finally, they reappear. The griffin has Aer, who is no longer in dragon form, hanging by her long golden hair. His wings stretch and flap as he carries her out to sea. This is good. Hopefully, he’ll dump her in the ocean, and we’ll never see or hear of her again.
But then forked lightning shoots from her outstretched hand, changing into a burning spear as it sinks into the griffin’s unprotected chest. A horrible cry of pain ricochets across the sky. Ever veers back over the arena, his claws release, tumbling the air mage to the ground. She lands on her feet, as graceful and smug as a cat who’s just ripped into a mouse and is preparing to toy with it.
I watch in horror as Ever spirals downward, flickering between his fae form and the creature’s, a trail of blood streaming in his wake. He lands with a sickening thud in the dirt, an otherworldly prince decked in full armor. And badly wounded.
“Ever!” I stumble toward him as he flies onto his feet and sends me backward onto my butt with a rush of energy from his palm.
“Sorry,” he mutters, hair whipping his face as he labors each breath. He presses his hand over ripped leather at his stomach where a deep wound gapes, but still the blood keeps pouring.
Aer laughs. “You are badly injured, Everend. Why did you waste the last of your power just now moving the human to safety? You must know she will never be safe, and now you are useless. You may as well give up.”
“I will not,” he snarls, thrusting both hands at her. A sharp tang of ozone fills the air, and I expect to see lightning or hail shoot from his palms. But nothing happens. “By the Elements…”
He shakes his hands hard and tries once more. Again nothing. Cursing, he draws his sword and advances on Aer, mouth a grim line. Each step is clumsy. His limbs shake. Blood pours from his body. But still he fights.
Smiling, Aer throws a bolt of power as Ever’s blade slashes her silver dress. Flames surge, flickering like snake tongues from her fingertips, forcing him backward. He spins his left hand, another attempt to deploy his magic. And, again, nothing happens.
“Lara, run,” he yells, launching another sword attack on the sorceress.
Hair billowing, she grits her teeth, fingers drawing intricate patterns in the sky until a snow-globe-sized whirlpool of water twirls in her palm. Ever frowns and stumbles backward as she tosses it at him. It surges and grows, swallowing him whole. Drowning him.
It’s a terrible sight, a strong warrior imprisoned in a churning, watery bubble. The soon-to-be liquid coffin cocoons his body, currents and bubbles swirling as he fights it, punching and throwing his body against the elastic walls. Then it rises off the ground, spinning him in slow, lethal somersaults.
“I wonder how long you can hold your breath for, Prince of Air? Not long enough to survive, I am sure. And what do you imagine I will do with your human when you’re not here to protect her? Rather than giving her to the Merits, perhaps I will choose a more interesting fate for her.” Aer’s hand slashes across her body, and Ever and the water crash to the ground.
With his weight resting on his elbows, he heaves and spits, glaring at Aer with a fury that should smite her dead. A war cry roaring from his lips, he lurches onto his feet and charges at Aer. Her hands fling out and the water is back, an instant flash flood contained in an elastic bubble surrounding the prince.
The water churns, rolling and buffeting him like a rag doll against its sides. This time, in his weakened state, I’m certain he won’t make it. He’ll die, and I’ll have to stand here and watch.
This can’t be happening. I won’t let it happen. Fear and anger such as I’ve never felt before boil through my veins, rising and rising.
“Stop!” My scream is high-pitched and long, and once it starts, I can’t seem to end it. My voice lifts higher and higher. I don’t need any breath in my lungs or oxygen in my blood. I don’t need anything except to make Aer go away.
Without thinking, I push my palms out in front of my body and rush at her. It’s not until I’m right up close that I realize she’s covering her ears and inching away.
Farther and farther.
Weak and cringing.
I can’t believe it. The air mage is afraid.
Then she’s crouching in the indigo-tinged light and begging me to be quiet, to leave her alone. But I won’t be quiet. I won’t stop. If she’s killed Ever, I’m going to end her right now. Forever.
I lunge. My fingers grip her throat, and I push her backward, falling to my knees. I quickly straddle her waist. I’m no longer singing my alarm, only panting harsh breaths in her wrinkly face. Wrinkles? What happened to her silky-smooth, perfect fae complexion? She’s as dehydrated as a prune.