Page 55 of The Stolen Throne
Cain grabs me by the arm to stop me, but the way Reven’s gaze cuts to his hand, he’s lucky he still has it. To my surprise, he lets go, though with a glower. “You can’t let her—”
“She’s doing this.” Reven is unmovable, and I guess Cain can see that, based on the way his lip curls.
Is it wrong that his standing up for me thaws some of the icy anger in my chest at his leaving me?
“I’ll shadow her out if I have to,” Reven tells Cain. “Get to your father and warn him what she’s about to do.”
My friend shakes his head. Once. Twice. Then, “Hells.” He sprints away using the few tents still miraculously standing as cover.
Reven looks at me, no doubt in his eyes, which bolsters my own courage. “Ready?”
I take a deep breath, drawing my power forward until the glow coming from my hands is almost blinding. Thank goddess for the daylight or I’d be easy for the Elimination to spot and kill.
Planting my feet—as if that’s going to help—I hold up my hands, directing the light toward the creature still squaring off against the Wanderers, who look tiny beside its bulk.
Here we go.
This time, I go big. I’m going to have to work fast, but maybe if I neutralize the parts that do the most moving, I can buy myself time to freeze the rest. Which now means stopping that endless serpentine tail. Four hooves might’ve been easier.
I concentrate hard, picturing every part the way I can see it curled, and imagine all the sand inside. When I think I’m ready, the power that leaves me is like a physical wave. I imagine a soul being forced from the body feels much the same.
The Elimination’s thundering roar cuts off, and its head whips down to look at itself. Its torso jerks as though it’s trying to make itself move, but I have it. I damn well have it.
I have all the sand in its coiled snake body immobilized.
Holding that much, I try for the torso, except it transforms again. Not the tail, but the upper part becomes fully snake, except the face and the horns. It falls forward onto the sand like a tower being toppled, then writhes and flips over the dunes and trampled tents as it tries to free itself.
But I still have it.
My focus narrows to only me and the Devourer I’m trying to stop. I’m furiously trying to freeze more, but it’s moving, so the progress is slow going as I make my way up its body a bit at a time.
My insides start to quake with the effort.
A scream of frustration punches from the Elimination’s throat, and it changes form yet again, giant wings sprouting from its back. With a great beat of its wings, sending gusts of air over us, it lifts, paralyzed back end and all, out of the dunes so fast, I have to snap my head back to track it into the sky.
So that’s how it got this far into the desert. Why hasn’t it attacked on land before?
I lose my focus, and my control over the animal slips enough that it shifts midair, returning to the form of the original beast, wings gone, as it drops back to the sand with a booming blast of sound and sand. I duck and cover, but nothing touches me.
Lowering my arms, I find Reven standing over me, blocking me with his body.
“Where are you?” a voice, low and scratchy the way I imagine a sandy lion would sound if it could speak, demands in my head.
I hear it the same way I heard the Hollow when I thought it spoke to me. I’d convinced myself I’d imagined that, but two Devourers speaking to me can’t be a coincidence.
I push Reven up and out of my way and force my light forward again. This time, I try for the entire body in one shot. I know I’m not entirely successful when its head starts moving, eerie eyes made of sand searching all around it. Searching for me.
My amulet still rests silent and unhelpful against my skin. Why? The ghost of Eidolon’s story rings in my mind. Is she silent because this is her mate? Her consort became a monster?
“I promise I won’t kill him.” I’m speaking to the goddess in the amulet. In theory. I’m honestly not sure what I expect.
“What?” Reven’s head jerks down to stare at me. “Why wouldn’t you—”
The piece of lightning glass—the heirloom Omma slipped into my pocket the day my grandmother died and Tabra became queen—sparks so wildly, the intense heat singes my skin, and I yelp.
Reven spins me around to face him, concern etched in every angle of his face. “Meren—”
“Move.”
