Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(112)

Maeven reared back her hand. Magic streaked through the air, but it didn’t hit me.

It hit her.

Blue lightning slammed into Maeven, throwing her out of the gazebo and onto the grass beyond. My heart lifted.

Sullivan was here.

More blue lightning streaked through the air, narrowly missing the magier closest to me, and I saw Sullivan running toward the gazebo, more magic crackling on his hands.

“Evie!” he yelled.

“Over here!” I screamed.

The Mortan magiers froze, not sure which one of us to attack. Then half of the magiers turned toward me, and the others turned toward Sullivan. Dahlia might have told the Mortans not to hurt her son when Sullivan had stormed away from the gazebo earlier, but that wasn’t an option anymore.

Fighting—killing—was the only choice any of us had now.

I snapped up my daggers and charged at the assassins closest to me, plunging into the pack of them. The magiers yelled and screamed and unleashed their lightning, fire, and ice, slamming their power into my body, but I held on to my immunity and used my own cold, hard power to extinguish every spark of magic that touched my skin.

I didn’t care what happened to me. No, the only thought in my mind was getting to Sullivan, and I would cut down every single person—every single fucking thing—who got in my way. That sharp, painful need to reach him blotted out everything else.

“Evie!” he yelled again.

I would have yelled back, but I didn’t want to waste precious energy doing anything that wasn’t bringing me closer to him. The stench of magic filled my nose, so much of it that I couldn’t tell where it ended and I began. But I reached for even more of my immunity, and I ruthlessly snuffed out every single bit of lightning, fire, and ice that stopped me from getting closer to Sullivan.

Something strange happened. The longer and harder I used my immunity, the more I could sense all the magic around me. And not only could I sense the magic, but it almost felt like I could touch it, as though the magiers’ lightning, fire, and ice were tangible, physical things that I could hold in my hands the same way I was holding my daggers.

Then another ball of lightning blasted against my body. I shook off the odd thoughts, used my immunity to extinguish the magic, and kept going.

Sullivan sent bolt after bolt of lightning zinging out at the magiers he was battling, as well as ducking their blasts of power in return. But one of the Mortan magiers managed to clip Sullivan’s shoulder with his fire, making Sullivan stumble to the ground. The magier reared back his hand, getting ready to unleash more of his fire. I opened my mouth to scream a warning at Sullivan, but I didn’t have to save him.

Dahlia did it for me.

She darted forward, sank her fingers into the magier’s hair, pulled back his head, and cut his throat. Then she shoved him away, and the dying man thumped to the ground in between her and Sullivan.

His head snapped up, and he stared at her in confusion. “Mother? What are you doing here?”

Dahlia stared at him, that bloody dagger still clutched in her hand. I ran in that direction, yelling at Sullivan to get away from her, although he didn’t hear me over the shrieks and screams. But I didn’t have to save Sullivan from his mother either.

Once again, she did it for me.

Dahlia looked at me, and I could smell her dusty resignation even above the stench of all the blood and magic in the air. She lifted her hand, showing me the vial of amethyst-eye poison. She must have picked it up from wherever Maeven had dropped it. Dahlia used her thumb to pop the stopper off the top of the glass.

She gave me a hard, grim smile, then tilted up the vial and drained the contents.

Sullivan scrambled back to his feet. “Mother! What are you doing?”

Dahlia shook her head and staggered away from him. She hit one of the cushioned benches and slid off, crumpling to the ground. Sullivan hurried over to her.

“Mother?” he yelled. “Mother!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another ball of purple lightning flare to life, and I whirled around in that direction.

Maeven had finally gotten back up onto her feet, but she wasn’t targeting me anymore. No, this time, she was going after Sullivan. She gave me an evil smile, then reached for even more of her lightning, far more lightning than what she had been going to use on me.

She was going to kill Sullivan.





Chapter Twenty-Five


“Sully!” I screamed.

I raced toward him, cutting down any assassin stupid enough to get in my way. Even though I was moving as fast as possible, I wasn’t going to reach him in time.

One of the magiers plowed into me and knocked the dagger out of my right hand. I tried to keep going and run past him, but he caught me around the waist, holding me in place.

“Sully!” I screamed again. “Sully, look out!”

His head snapped up, and he finally realized that Maeven was targeting him. His eyes widened, and he lifted his hand to summon up his own magic to block her attack, but he was too late. Maeven snapped her hand forward, throwing every last bit of her power at him.

For a moment, I felt like I was underwater, and everything was happening in long, slow waves of motion.

I churned and churned my legs, dragging the magier along with me. I also stretched my empty hand out in front of me, wishing that I could somehow reach Sullivan in time, wishing that I could do something, anything, to keep Maeven’s lightning from killing him. Wishing that I had the power to throttle her magic without even touching it or her.