Queen of Blood and Vengeance (Secrets of the Faerie Crown #4)

83. Guinevere

83

GUINEVERE

There were just too many of them. The Aquarians and elementals formed a bastion at the center of the army, ramming their way into the succubus horde. Someone had told Gwen that these ones were easier to kill, because they’d taken over human bodies rather than fae. But she noticed no difference. They killed more effectively than any enemy she’d faced as a lieutenant in the terrestrial army, serving under Arran.

They killed the human female named Tally who Elora had grown so fond of during their short alliance.

They killed the ice-wielding female who’d wanted to punish Gwen for slaughtering her brother.

They killed and killed and killed.

At least Sylva was not on this battlefield. The human woman waited in the village to receive wounded soldiers.

Maybe she would die there.

Gwen certainly would.

She shifted from her dark lioness back into her fae from, using the power of her powerful hind legs to leap, transforming in the air and landing with such force that her sword cleaved the succubus beneath her in half.

Her sword was free by the time her knees pushed back up to stand. Three succubus surged for her, she took them all, leaving the male nearest her free to turn and engage in the other direction.

She vaguely recognized the male. She’d been introduced to him once, but he was one human who hadn’t seemed important. His place was with Veyka and Arran, with the terrestrials, with their quests. But there he was, fighting alongside the humans.

He was half-witch, she recalled.

But he fought for the humans.

He had a sister. She recalled that as well.

Perhaps it was for her that he fought.

Perhaps it was for her that he died.

A succubus careened into him, thrown off by another human fighting a few feet away. It knocked the man down, falling with him. Gwen would have rolled and come out on top. Slammed her amorite-swirled blade into the creature’s chest. But the human was not a warrior. He landed beneath the succubus. The succubus ripped out his throat, then it dug its sharpened bony fingertips into his chest, searching for his soul. Half-witch or not, the man would not heal.

Gwen watched the life leave his eyes.

She felt nothing.

Not even the blade that pierced her leather, nor the sharp pain of her organs being split in two.

She felt nothing as her knees hit the ground. Then her face, straight down into the mud.

She felt nothing.

Then she saw nothing either.