Marked (The Coldest Fae Book 3) by Katerina Martinez (novel24 .txt) 📗

had started flickering. I wasn’t sure how she had managed to stay upright, but she was on one knee, with both hands outstretched, Gullie still hovering between them. She was beaming with light, wreathed in it. It really was something to see.

Cillian suddenly screamed, with a sound that curdled my blood. I turned over, onto my side, and saw him now, on his knees, clutching his horns and roaring into the snow around his feet. Around him, tendrils of darkness began to writhe and draw out of his body, emerging and surround him in a kind of thick, shadowy mantle.

The Prince slammed his fists against the ground, and the cloak of shadow shot out from his back, the tendrils exploding out of him like they were alive. I watched these shadow limbs stretch out and reach for the sky where they met like waves crashing together. In moments, the darkness expanded like blood in water, creating a much deeper shadow that stood in stark contrast to the Veridian hanging above it.

And from the darkness, came a giant face, black as pitch, with glowing red eyes and large, curved horns. It was a face that had haunted my nightmares since the day I saw it in the mirror.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

 

 

Radulf.

He hung in the sky like an angry God, watching us with an angry scowl on his face. Dark tendrils of shadow stretched from the extremities of his form all the way to the ground, where they merged with Cillian’s body like some kind of horrible marionette.

“The wolf bitch thinks she can sever my link,” Radulf roared with a voice like an avalanche. “She is wrong.”

I had to fight to get to my feet. The explosion had knocked the wind right out of me, but others had it worse. Mira was still down, as were some of the moon children. Ashera had fallen on her back, but she was propping herself up on her elbows and staring up at the horrible face glaring down on us from above.

“Radulf!” I yelled, pushing the limits of my own voice to try and get it past the howl of the wind. “It’s over! You have to let him go.”

“Is that so? And why would I do that? My little brother and I have such a strong bond; I don’t see any reason to break it.”

“It’s not too late for you, Radulf. I know what happened, I know you didn’t ask for this—we can help you if you let him go!”

“You know nothing, half-breed.”

“He told me everything. He told me you were injured, and that your father sent you to the Veridian to try and heal you, but that it didn’t work.”

Radulf laughed, and thunder grumbled. “I entered the storm a broken man and emerged with powers beyond my own comprehension. I am more than a man, now. I am a God, I have justice to dispense, and there is nothing you can do to change that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Ashera said, lending her voice to mine. “Your link is exposed, spirit. I can sever them with a thought.”

“So, sever them, then! Come near him and see what happens.”

Ashera glanced at me, then looked over at Cillian. She didn’t wait for my go ahead, nor did she ask my permission. Instead, she hurled herself at the Prince, drawing a dagger from her belt as she went and readying it in her hand. I saw the focus in her eyes, the determination in her stride—she was lithe, and quick, and powerful, but a strike of lightning blasted the ground in front of her and knocked her off her feet.

Breathless I watched her sail through the air before slamming into the ground. “No!” I screamed, and I rushed toward the Prince, fury driving my instincts and blinding me to all rational thoughts. I drew my dagger as well, caught sight of one of the tendrils linking Radulf and the Prince, and then I drove the dagger all the way through it.

But the tendril didn’t break.

I backed up, watching the inky black coil only shift and move, but not sever. Radulf laughed again, the sound reverberating inside of my chest. I stared at the dagger in my hand. The gem was glowing, I could feel the magic coursing through it, but it hadn’t worked. Something was wrong.

“Did you think it would be that easy?” Radulf roared. “In a couple of minutes, my Wenlow are going to tear down that flimsy shield and eat every last one of you. And then after my brother and I are done with you, girl, we’re going to go back to the castle and assemble my army.”

I shuddered all over. He knew. He knew what Cillian and I had been doing, how close we’d gotten. Was he there when the Prince and I were intimate? Was he watching from behind Cillian’s eyes?

Oh no… was he in the driver’s seat?

“Did you think you had kept me down all this time?” Radulf asked, “Did you seriously think I emerged not once during your time with my brother? I have to admit I’m looking forward to the day I get to be in complete control of his body… I can do things to you he could never do.”

“Enough!” Cillian screamed.

He hadn’t said a word until now, and the sound of his voice took me by surprise. The Prince turned around and stared at the sky. His hands were balled into tight fists, his eyes were bloodshot and red, all the veins in his neck had popped. He looked like he was in pain, and in a lot of it. The dark tentacles shooting out of his body were real enough that they were ripping through his clothes—I couldn’t be sure, but maybe they were tearing through his skin, too.

“My brother speaks,” Radulf said, his guttural voice seeming to spread for miles. “Tell me, are you going to protest to my treatment?”

“No,” Cillian said, and he tore his shirt open with his hands, exposing his chest. “I