While I won’t engage with her, I do need to know why Archer is in so deep. He said it was for love, but I don’t believe it.
“Archer,” I murmur, garnering his attention. “Please… don’t do this. Release me and let’s end this together. Let’s get our city back.”
“Our city?” he asks with exaggerated surprise. “This isn’t your city. This isn’t your dimension anymore. It all belongs to Ferelith.”
“But why are you helping her?” I ask as Ferelith stands, turns her back on me, and studies the book.
Archer uses his magical hold, fueled by Merrilyn’s blood and whatever power Ferelith has shared with him, to pull me to my feet. His magic is nowhere near this strong to be able to keep me subdued, but I am like a marionette under his control.
Putting his face before mine, he whispers, “When the rest of the cities are conquered and you are destroyed, Ferelith will be crowned sovereign of all Vyronas, and I will sit on a throne at her side. Why would I not choose her?”
“You’re despicable,” I hiss. “A traitor through and through. I’ll see that you’re hanged for this.”
Archer laughs at my temerity, which causes his focus to slip a bit. Power rises within me, and Archer feels it too. He struggles to regain control, but I pull from the ley lines that run deep and wide through Kestevayne, ignoring the shadow magic that calls out to me to destroy him, and I fling it outward. It doesn’t just blow toward Archer—who goes flying and crashes into the throne—but it catches Ferelith in the back too.
She stumbles and whirls in surprise. As I turn on her, she punches a bolt of power straight into my chest that knocks the breath out of me and buckles my knees.
I bend in half, wheezing as my lungs refuse to inflate.
Ferelith flips the length of her dress back at one of the slits and pulls free a dagger sheathed at her thigh. She strides for me, and I wonder if this is it. Is she going to kill me here and now?
I’m vaguely aware of Archer picking himself up off the floor, shaking his head. At least I rattled the bastard.
As Ferelith draws closer, I manage to suck in a breath and reach deep for my magic. It’s weak and sluggish in responding to my command. Ferelith grips the dagger but rather than swing it in my direction, she drives the tip into the palm of her own hand where bright red blood wells.
I’m helpless to move as she advances and slaps her palm to my forehead, coating me with her body’s fluid. She then flips her hand over and presses it downward, and my body follows the motion, flipping and slamming onto the stone floor.
Ferelith flings her hand outward, and I slide in the same direction, helpless to stop my trajectory. She balls her hand into a fist when I reach the middle of the room, and my body slams to an abrupt halt as if I’ve run into a wall.
I groan as I roll to my hands and knees, attempting to push up. She slams her hand downward, and my body splays flat on the cold stone. It feels like there’s a weight on top of me, but I manage to turn my head so I can see her.
With her palm facing the floor, essentially pinning me down with her blood magic, she moves to set the spell book on a low table near the window.
“Archer,” she says as she stares down at the book.
“Yes, my love,” he gushes as he trots her way, hands clasped. He looks like an eager puppy as he skids to a stop at her side.
Ferelith glances back at me, then turns to face Archer. “I’ll need to figure out this spell book, and that will take time. I cannot focus on her to keep her magic quelled, so I need your help.”
“I’m at your service,” he says, and I notice for the first time that it sounds a little robotic.
As if he’s said that phrase a thousand times before.
Could he be under her control? It’s been widely rumored that she uses blood oaths to control the masses. Did she take control of him and make him an unwitting accomplice?
I want to find an excuse for Archer’s traitorous behavior, but I also know I’m grasping at straws.
“Lay five pyrite stones around her,” she instructs, flipping her other hand over. The rocks appear on her palm. They’re rough cut, the color of dull brass. “Create a diameter of at least ten feet.”
“As you wish,” he replies, taking the stones.
Again, robotic sounding, but she’s clearly the alpha in this relationship. Maybe she has him trained and not under mind control.
I attempt to move, but I’m still held flat by her power. I try to pull on the darkness inside of me but it’s quiet and I can’t feel it. My situation is dire and I scream mentally inside my head, Amell… father… I need your help.