Courts and Cabals 2 by G.S. D'Moore (warren buffett book recommendations TXT) 📗

guard and scraped against the armor. Power flared as the runic script fought against the brute force of the frost giant. Brute force won, and it dug a groove into the armor and spun him away. He contorted in a way that would have snapped my human bones, to avoid a quartet of spears that would have pinned him in place for Ymira to finish the job. Instead, a wide swing of his sword broke the spears midway up their lengths, and his remaining doubles set upon the suddenly weaponless guards like a school of piranha.

Ymira’s next attack went wide, and he nicked her across the ribcage as she overextended. It was just a flesh wound, but it showed me that even gods bled. The frost giant roared, and twirled with a quickness something her size should never be capable of, spun away to get some distance and leveled her staff at him.

“Uh oh,” the Trickster groaned as he realized he’d become distracted with taking out the guards, and that had allowed everyone to clear her field of fire. A blast of blue light hit him like a freight train that had jumped the tracks.

It didn’t flash freeze him like his doubles, but his armor’s runes blazed brilliantly as he flew through the air. For a moment, he was a shooting star across the night sky before he crashed to the floor not far from me. He skipped once, twice, and then found his footing. He spun, braced his heel into the ground to stop his forward momentum, and dug a shallow trench through the throne room. He ground to a halt in a crouch, looking like a superhero in a Marvel movie, before standing up. Aveena, who’d been sneaking over to finish me off, stopped in her tracks.

The Trickster and I looked out on a throne room full of the dead and dying. What remained of the guards brought down the last of the doubles. Blood and gore covered the floor. A few inches deep in some places. Bodies were littered everywhere, some not even close to where the fighting had been. If I knew the Fae, and I think I did after all of this, some of the courtiers had taken the opportunity to settle some old scores. Still, the majority of the corpses were Golden Boy’s work. Everyone who was still standing, and there were dozens of them, formed a half circle around me and the Trickster.

“Well, this has been fun,” the man’s golden glow hadn’t diminished in the slightest; and he didn’t sound at all like someone who was concerned he was about to die. He lent a hand, and easily pulled me to my feet.

“Not exactly how I thought it was going to end,” I countered, but it was better than dying on my knees as a prisoner.

“Nonsense,” he scoffed. “Neither of us will die here today. There is still so much more adventure in store for you, Cameron . . . or do you prefer Cam?”

“Cam,” I answered, but kept my eyes on Aveena. I could feel her conjuring more daggers to throw at me.

“Have you had your fun, Trickster?” the Lady of Winter pushed herself to the front of the gathered mob.

“What is life without a little fun, a little mischief?” he countered, and I could feel his shit-eating grin through the light of his visor slit.

Ymira looked around at the destruction, then down at her own body; slick with blood from multiple closed wounds, and then back to her foe. “I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

“Then I’m sorry to disappoint,” he replied, and a great ripping sensation filled the room.

My ears popped painfully, and I felt wetness leaking down the side of my face. “Sure, I could go for some burst eardrums about now.” As far as injuries went, it was the least of my problems.

I turned my head to look at Aveena, and saw she was howling in pure rage. None of the sound reached me, in fact, everything not within a few feet of me looked frozen.

“A little time dilation so we can have a heart-to-heart,” the Trickster looked down at me, but I had the impression he was sweating from the exertion of doing whatever he was doing. “First off, you’re fortunate it was me who caught wind of this whole thing. You already ate up your one get-out-of-jail-free card with dad in that stupid troll incident. My older brother thinks you’re a complete pussy, and you don’t want any of your half-sisters coming to the rescue,” he actually shivered, something the Coldstone had failed to accomplish.

“So, my sage wisdom to you is man the fuck up. Sure, you’re still half human, but your other half is Aesir. People quake in their boots at the mere mention of our name. You saw her royal frigidness; she practically shat her panties when she learned what you were. It’s time to start acting like a badass, Cam; or next time we meet up, you aren’t going to like the reunion.”

I had so many questions. What’s an Aesir? Why do people shit their pants at the very mention of their name? Who’s my dad? How did you find me? Why are you leaving me to die? I could go on and on.

Instead, I only got out two, heartfelt words, “Thank you.”

The Trickster nodded his armored helm at me, and then, whatever time dilation spell he’d worked ended. Aveena’s scream passed over me with the power of hurricane force winds. Ymira was leveling the Coldstone to turn me into a puddle of frozen gelato, and all the other Fae were launching themselves at me with fangs, claws, and glamour weapons ready to bite, tear, and rip me to shreds.

So, of course, the Trickster hit me in the chest with an open palm strike that pretty much broke every part of me, despite the