The Blood Curse by Annette Marie

Author:Annette Marie [Marie, Annette]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781988153193
Publisher: Dark Owl Fantasy Inc.
Published: 2018-03-29T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

A none-too-gentle slap across the face woke Lyre. His eyes flew open and he groaned at the pain throbbing through his head, shoulder, and left leg.

Miysis’s blurry face hovered over him. “Finally! I was about to leave you here.”

Lyre cautiously lifted his head. Pain shot through his neck and shoulder but the injury—just bruising, he hoped—didn’t impede his movement. Miysis pulled him into a sitting position and Lyre’s vision blurred even worse before finally focusing.

They were at the edge of a wrecked market booth, and he assumed the fabric awning and the wooden table underneath had broken his fall.

“You didn’t split your skull,” Miysis said as he unceremoniously hauled Lyre to his feet. “You cracked the bones in your left leg but I already healed it.”

“Thanks,” Lyre grunted, testing the injured limb. Pain shot through his calf muscles. Accelerated healing on the battlefield wasn’t all that thorough.

“I hope your head is still working,” the prince growled as he dragged Lyre into motion, ignoring his limp. “Tell me what you know about the spells those daemons were using.”

“They’re Chrysalis spells,” he answered, furious all over again at the reminder. “Bastian stole them from me and I’d say he’s been putting his mimic ability to good use since then.”

Miysis swore as he stopped at a junction of narrow streets. Thunder cracked every ten seconds and lightning rippled through the clouds, the increasing wind cool and humid. Beneath the roar of the weather, shouts and frightened cries filled the city.

“Finding my men in this storm is going to be hell, and the wind is too strong for sustained flight.” Miysis glanced at Lyre, his normally bright eyes black with anger. “Can you walk on your own?”

Miysis didn’t wait for an answer before letting him go and striding forward. Lyre trotted after him, evaluating the wobbly weakness in his left leg. His head and shoulder ached too but not as badly. He would get Clio to check him over for other injuries—as soon as he found her. He glanced at the dark shape of the citadel and hoped she was safe.

He and Miysis jogged through the streets, angling back toward the citadel. Still out of glamour—no sense in weakening himself just to spare Miysis any discomfort—he activated his defensive weaves and pulled his bow off his shoulder.

Miysis glanced at him. “How useful will that be in this wind?”

“Short range will be fine.”

The prince grunted and picked up the pace. They rounded a corner and Lyre’s senses sizzled from oncoming magic. Ten feet away, a green gem rolled across the ground, sparkling brightly.

He grabbed Miysis, shoved him down, and cast a bubble shield. The gemstone detonated into a fireball, blasting a hole in the flagstones and tearing chunks off nearby stone buildings. The flames surged upward, heat rippling off them. At their base, a green tinge was the only indicator that a spell fueled the inferno.

Lyre sprang up, scouring the darkness for a sign of whoever had thrown that gem. Miysis joined him, weaponless but ready to fight.

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