Arrows rained down on the ground just ahead of where we hid, dashing aside my thoughts of the past. Toryn and I waited for the last arrow to punch the ground, and then we leapt to our feet, rushing forward before they could loose their next storm. We made it over halfway before they came again.
I dodged to the side, my heart raging in my chest. One arrow hit its mark, slamming into my shoulder. Pain flared through me, but I batted it away. I yanked the arrow out of my arm and tossed it onto the ground.
We made it to the wall, breath heaving between us. Sweat coated Toryn’s brow, but he looked none the worse for wear. The storm fae were good shots, but we’d surprised them. And we’d gotten lucky.
I nodded toward the barred door. “We knock it down together. I’ll use some of my power, but not the full force of it. How is yours faring?”
Toryn grinned and held up his hands, wreathed in lightning. “All charged up.”
The son of storm fae. I would never forget what he’d given up to join my side.
“Good.” In the distance, something like an eagle let out a long, high-pitched whistle. “That was Niamh. They’re ready on the other side.”
I lifted my fingers to my lips and whistled back.
Pulling the mists into my body, I placed a palm against the door, the warped wood scratching against my palm. And then Ishoved, just as Toryn blasted his lightning at the gate. The door splintered, shattering inward. I held up my hands to protect my face from the wind tunnel of wood and stone. Power stormed through the opening, rattling my bones.
When the dust finally cleared, both of us peered inside. An empty courtyard stared back at us. Frowning, I strode through the rubble, stepping over a pile of fallen stone. There wasn’t a fae anywhere to be seen. No civilians. No soldiers. No assassins lurking in wait. Just pure silence, until a pair of footsteps echoed in the silence. A moment later, Niamh and Alastair joined us in the courtyard.
Al grunted. “Where the fuck is everyone?”
“Long gone.” Niamh let out a low whistle as she pointed a finger at the empty battlements at the top of the wall. “They couldn’t have fled that quickly.”
Toryn frowned. “They shot arrows at us only moments ago. The storm fae have power over the elements, but they can’tvanishinto thin air. Trust me. If they could, I would know.”
“It was a trick.” I spun in a slow circle, eyeing up the old village. Some of the doors had been knocked down, and windows were smashed. Old, dried blood painted some of the wooden walls. “An illusion. That’s why most of those arrows missed. No one was manning the bows.”
“That doesn’t make a lick of sense,” Niamh argued. “They can’t shoot arrows from afar.”
“They set it up,” I said, rubbing my chin. “They had the arrows ready to go, and then used a blast of wind to release them. They knew the arrows were unlikely to hit their mark, but it gave the impression soldiers were in here.”
“Why the hell would they want to do something like that?” Alastair asked.
Alarm flashed through me as my thoughts went straight to Tessa. Those horses would protect her, even against a small army of storm fae. There was more to them than met the eye. But I could not stop the jolt to my heart, the instinct to rush to her side and make sure she was alright.
“It was a trap,” Toryn said grimly.
Something in his voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I followed his gaze to where a group of storm fae on horseback charged into the village, grinning wickedly. Swords raised, they raced forward, bearing down on our group. I looked at each and every face. There were at least thirty of them and only four of us. A blast of wind shot into our faces, blinding me momentarily.
They were elites. Some of them were, at least.
“Run!” I shouted, grabbing Niamh’s arm and tugging her toward the buildings. I would stand against the storm fae alone, but I had to get the others to safety first. Toryn’s powers needed recharging before he could use the lightning again. Niamh and Alastair were common fae and had nothing other than their brute strength.
That would not hold up against a charging army of thirty, with elites in their ranks.
Fear flashed across Niamh’s face as another blast of wind hit us hard. It knocked us off our feet, throwing us onto the ground. Alastair crawled to his feet, his face paling. He lifted a shaking finger.
I looked over my shoulder and my stomach dropped. The storm fae had surrounded Toryn. He curled his hands into fists and shot his magic, but it did nothing but fizzle on his fingers. One of the storm fae leaned down and grabbed Toryn’s arm.
And then they took off into the mists, dragging him behind them.
I dropped back my head and roared just as the wind hammered into me and threw me at the wall.
Twenty-Four
Tessa
“What’s happening?” I jumped to my feet as Niamh raced down the path, her violet, braided hair flapping behind her like the loose rope on a ship. Her eyes were wild, brows pinched. Whatever had screamed out there must have attacked them. My mouth went dry. Was it pookas? Were they coming here? And where in the name of light was the Mist King?