Page 54 of Omen of ice
A massive white blur shoots past me. Valen’s wolf lands gracefully between the tragon and me, hackles up and fangs bared. The beast rises onto its back legs and snaps its teeth. The sound echoes through the clearing and sends chills down my back.
The tragon swipes at the space in front of Valen. A warning.Back off.
Valen, in turn, snaps his jaw and growls. It’s ferocious and protective and sends a ripple of gratitude through me. Gratitude, then guilt. Our positions should be reversed. I’m supposed to be protecting him. Not the other way around.
His form blurs, then melts back into Fae.
The tips of his fingers begin to ice, and as he lifts both hands and holds them out toward the tragon, he says, “Tania, back up.” But his voice is wrong. Deeper than normal with an eerie warble. I realize I don’t feel the adrenaline surge through the link that I should. I feel…chaos.
“Valen—”
“Get back.” There’s no room for argument in his tone, so I do as he says and creep around to stand behind him, then watch in awe as the tragon wails, each of its feet quickly becoming fused to the ground, encased in ice.
It’s subdued. Now is our chance! “Come on. It’s stuck. We need to move.”
The beast lets out a wail, and Valen smiles. The slightest twitch of his lip and rise of his brow. In another situation, I might think I was looking at a mischievous child. One covered in mud and smirking as he stood in the center of a once pristine white hall. But I know better. The jolt of power that fills the air caresses my skin, and the hairs on my arms and at the back of my neck jump to attention. Confidence flares in his eyes a second before he closes them. For a moment, I don’t understand.
Then my entire body goes numb.
The tragon screams, this time full of fury. The creature thrashes, and the ice cracks. “Valen,” I say. “You’ve immobilized it. We need to go before it gets loose.”
There’s no indication that he hears me. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t speak. It’s like he’s in thrall to the magic, as if he’s allowed it to take control.
His heart stutters, the erratic thump stealing the air from my lungs and making me dizzy. Anger unlike anything I’ve ever known pours over me.
The tragon flails as the ice continues to splinter. Tiny bits break away and fall to the ground, bounce several inches, then dissolve into liquid.
I gasp, trying to clear away the toxic emotions permeating the air. “Valen, snap out of it!”
No response. If this keeps up, the tragon will be free and gnawing on our bones in moments.
“You’re going to get us both killed!” I grab his arm and curse. Stinging cold bites at my skin, ripping away the top layer on two of my fingers.
The ice keeping the tragon rooted shatters, and the beast stills. Valen blinks once. Twice. Three times… Awareness filters back, and his mouth falls open.
“Tania, I…”
The tragon lets out a bellowing roar and charges straight for us.
18
Valen
The haze clears as the tragon frees itself from the ice, and my brain snaps into place, telling my feet to move. I rush back to where Tania’s discarded sword lies.
Tania grunts and throws herself sideways as the animal charges, tucking and rolling safely out of reach. “Don’t just stand there,” she yells. “Use the damned sword!”
“I’m no good with blades!”
She picks herself up off the ground and bares her teeth. “But I am.”
In that moment, the druid’s sword is lighter in my hand, and my fingers wrap comfortably around the hilt. The blade and I are one. I lift the weapon and pivot as the tragon lunges, swinging up and stepping several inches to the left. The move is just enough to avoid the animal’s blow, whispers of its scales skimming across my face as I turn away. The blade hits meat. The distinct resistance, then smooth, eerily familiar slice as it tears through my prey is like euphoria.
The tragon bellows. It skids to a stop a few yards away, the large gash in its belly oozing deep green fluid. A bad wound but not fatal. It crouches and readies itself for another round.
My pulse thunders in my ears. The blood rushes to my head, focus narrowing on my prey with razor precision.
“Be ready,” Tania shouts. She drops to one knee and slams her hand against the ground. Her eyes glaze over, from the deepest hazel to a crystalline blue. I feel warmer, like the cool of my magic is being leeched from my veins. The dirt between her and the tragon shimmers and lightens, turning slick—just as the beast starts to run.
