Delano shuddered.
I tapped into the eather, channeling all the healing energy I could. I didn’t care about the dakkais. I didn’t care about Malec or Kolis because I couldn’t lose Delano. I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t lose—
The fur thinned under my hands, replaced by skin. Pale blond hair appeared, flopping into eyes that didn’t blink. Didn’t focus. Didn’t see.
“No!” I carefully rolled Delano onto his side, grasping his shoulders, shaking him. There was nothing. I reached for the dagger but halted. “Please. Please don’t do this. Get up, Delano. Please. Please.”
There was nothing.
Tears blinded me as silvery fire erupted over my head, rippling over the dakkais racing toward us. Sorrow rose sharply, crowding out everything else. Grabbing Delano, I pulled him away from the edge as someone screamed. Emil stumbled back, his swords slipping from his hands as he went down on one knee in front of the Revenant who had speared him through the chest. Kieran was suddenly there, his mouth open in a roar as he swung his sword through the Revenant’s neck.
Casteel spun then, his fangs bared as he skewered a Revenant. Blood drenched his face, his armor, and beneath my hands, Delano’s skin was already beginning to cool.
“I told you, my daughter.” Isbeth’s voice was soft but clear through the madness. “I said you would give me what I want.”
That fissure inside me that had broken open upon Vikter’s death tore wide now, coming from that hollow place inside me. My entire body jolted as grief-laced fury poured out of me, icy and endless. The sword fell from my hand as my other slid away from Delano. Rage joined the essence of the Primals, pressing at my skin as I rose and slowly turned.
I looked at Isbeth as she raised the sword above Malec once more, and I screamed.
Energy pulsed out from me, crackling and spitting as it spilled across the floor and slammed into Isbeth, knocking her back. She lost the sword as she caught herself. The Temple shuddered as eather pulsed from me, smacking into the dakkais drawn to me.
Isbeth rose, backing up. Bracing herself, she lifted her hand. “Don’t make me do this, Penellaphe.”
“I’m going to kill you,” I said as I stalked forward, and it was that voice, the one full of smoke and shadow. “I’m going to rip you apart.”
Her eyes flared wide as she skidded back several feet. A burst of eather left her.
And I laughed.
The energy hit me, and I took it in—the fiery pain, the burn of it—letting it seep into my skin and become a part of me. And then I sent it back.
Isbeth flew backward into the pillar. The impact cracked the marble as she fell forward onto her knees. “Ouch,” she snarled, lifting her head.
I smiled even as blood dripped from me—from the hits she’d landed—and hit the stone. Roots spilled out from new fissures in the stone as I walked, my eyes narrowing on her.
Her skin split open at the hairline as I stalked forward, another blood tree taking root, then another and another behind me. Blood beaded along the slice curving toward her temple, narrowly missing her left eye. Another deep cut formed across her forehead and ran through her brow.
Another pulse of eather hit me as she staggered to her feet. I drew that into myself as my throat burned. As an ache settled deep in the center of my back, and my jaw throbbed. I lifted my hands, and all the fallen weapons rose from the Temple floor and flew forward.
Isbeth waved her arm, sending them scattering. “Cute parlor trick.”
Closing the distance between us, I cocked my head to the side as a chunk of stone slammed into the side of her head. Blood gushed from her nose, her mouth. “How’s that for a cute parlor trick, Mother?”
Isbeth stumbled, catching herself. Her head whipped toward me. “You want to kill me? It won’t bring any of them back. It won’t stop what is coming—”
A wave of eather rolled from me, striking Isbeth. She fell back, laughing.
The air charged around me as lightning cracked overhead. I sucked in that energy as I saw Millicent fighting to get to Malec. Isbeth lashed out. A pulse of light struck my leg and splintered off, striking Millicent as she grasped the dagger protruding from Malec’s chest. She spun back, landing in a pool of blood near a toppled pillar, the blade limp in her hand.
“Betrayed by both of my daughters.” Isbeth wiped the blood from her face. “I’m so very proud.”
Snapping forward, I grabbed the crown. She howled as the jewels snagged, tearing clumps of her hair free as I yanked it from her head. Rage fueled me as I drew back my hand and backhanded her with the crown, knocking her to the floor.