CHAPTER 18 – KYLE

A demonic howl echoed between the trees.

Angeline.

“They’ve reached the Castle,” Merlena said, voice uncharacteristically grave.

Kyle couldn’t move, the impulse to run both towards and away from the sound rippled under his flesh, a conflicting cyclone ripping away all coherent thought. He felt like he’d split in two: Kyle the fighter, Kyle the free. Both of them wanted to live, but he knew if he turned back the chance of that was next to none.

Same chances Angeline, Pallas, and all those kids had.

He blinked, snapping out of his trance. Every single person in that Castle had chosen to cross The Veil. They knew full well what would happen to them on this side. It’s not like The Realm’s Army had a retirement fund. No need. No one made it that far.

“Come on,” Kyle said, trudging past the blue cow, away from the direction they’d come, “we gotta move our asses.”

“Wait,” she huffed. The squishing suction of mud approached as the blue Viking waddled after him in her heels.

Kyle gritted his teeth. Couldn’t the idiot have grabbed some practical shoes? If he got killed because of this bimbo…

She sidled up next to him, hands on her hips, rouged lips a thin frown. “How are you supposed to watch my back if you’re in front of me?”

Kyle opened his mouth, about to snap, ‘with an ass like that, no one wants to watch your back’, but the words froze on his tongue. Despite his disgust, he couldn’t bring himself to say it. He may have been a lot of things, but he wasn’t the type of man to say that kind of thing to a lady… even if that lady was a selfish hag. Plus, after everything that had happened in the past hour, another fight was the last thing he was looking for. He’d just put up with the Master until he found the nearest place he could drop her off.

“You should take off those shoes,” he said. The nearest outpost was hours away, longer if he had to wait for her.

“Oh you want to see these feet bare?” she said, her voice doing a weird little fluctuation.

“Yes?” he said, his gaze darting back the way they’d come. “We need to put some room between us.”

“Ahem,” she cleared her throat dramatically.

Kyle glanced back.

Merlena had one leg stuck out towards Kallen.

His brow crinkled.

She rolled her eyes and nodded towards her foot, eyelashes batting coyly. “Oh, come on, don’t be scared,” she said, “Mama don’t bite.”

What? She couldn’t be fucking serious. She wanted him to remove her shoes? His lips formed a flat line, his confusion deepening.

“I’m waiting,” she said, pretending to yawn.

Loathing boiled in his gut. “We don’t have time for this.”

She tapped her foot impatiently on the dirt.

Did she really think this was a fucking game? Every single person in that Castle back there could well be dead, and if they waited around, they would join them shortly—

Angeline.

The Captain’s face flashed in his mind. Mere hours ago, they’d had time for everything… to talk, to touch, to trace each other’s forms in the dark… and in paint. A place where anything was possible, where nothing was mandatory.

And now he had no choice but to run, to protect the useless Master. To protect himself. That was all he was living for now. Some life.

“I see,” the blue shrew sneered, stepping her foot back beneath her, “all tired out then from your romp with the arsonist whore?”

A bolt of rage shot down his spine. “DON’T you dare call her that.”

Merlena narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?” she popped one hand in the air, a cloud of blue magic flickering into being.

Kyle gritted his teeth and mirrored her stance, a ball of flame flickering in his hand. “You ever been in a fight, ma’am?”

She glared at him for a few tense seconds, then closed her fist, extinguishing the whirl of blue magic. “You’re right, we don’t have time for this.” She flipped her ponytail over her shoulder and stomped past Kyle.

He stared down at the tiny fire dancing across his palm.

Merlena called over her shoulder. “She’s not worth fighting over anyway.”

A ball of molten lead socked him in the gut. Fighting over. Fight with. Fighting for. However he spun it, he hadn’t fought hard enough.

Even if what the Captain said was true, even if she didn’t want him, that shouldn’t have mattered. He wanted her, needed her. Needed to protect her. And all he’d done was look for a way out. She pushed him, and he didn’t push back. His fighter spirit was gone. She was right. He hadn’t been a fighter for a long time. Just a coward.

The fire in his palm wavered, shifting in the slight breeze. Here he was, conjuring pathetic pissing-contest embers, wasting the amulet’s Salamander power. It was sacrilege abusing it like that. This type of magic existed for one reason: to fight.

There was only one way the Castle stood a chance against those Elves, and that was her. Not Captain Quintana. Not the Mage. Not even a soldier of The Realm. The only person who could win that battle was Angie, the Arsonist. The fierce, fearless woman, unbound by rules, and morals, and law. The woman with flames untamed.

A massive grin spread across Kyle’s face as he pushed a little more heat into the fire in his fist. Then he lobbed it straight ahead, off into the blackness of night, intentionally just missing Merlena’s stupid, blue head.

The gargantuan Mage leapt in surprise, tumbling on her heels. She flew face-first into the hard-pack dirt, landing with a satisfying thud. She wheezed, scrambling to right herself. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Kyle drew his blade.

“HELP!” she squealed, stumbling as she tried to stand, high heels sinking in the mud.

“Shut the hell up,” Kyle said, diving closer. He pressed the blade to her chin. “Do you want the Elves to hear us? I won’t hurt you if you don’t try anything stupid.”

She clamped her mouth shut, eyes focused on his knife, and nodded.

“Good. Now do exactly as I say…”