Lyre followed Jaspar through a maze of alleys, then into a building. They climbed pitch-black steps and came out on a rooftop that overlooked the square. Deep shadows coiled at the base of the watchtower.

Below, Miysis, Clio, and a third of his men had advanced into the square, circling the spring in the center. How long until Bastian launched an attack from within that shadow illusion? Clio was the only one who might have any idea what was happening beneath the blanket of shadows.

Going down on one knee as the water-laden wind howled around him, Lyre pulled an arrow from his quiver, the steel point blank of any weavings. Eyes closing halfway, he wove a swift spell through the metal. Illusions were easy to break if you knew how they’d been woven—and since he’d invented that weaving, he knew exactly how.

Shrugging his bow off his shoulder, he nocked the arrow and let it fly. The bolt whipped across the square, hit the ground just inside the shadow illusion, and flashed bright gold.

The illusion dissolved in a whirl of fading shadows.

“Nice,” Jaspar complimented. He put a foot on the rooftop ledge. “I’m off.”

Lyre nodded as he pulled another arrow from his quiver and nocked it. The griffin soldier jumped off the edge, wings spread to slow his drop to the flagstones. In the square, the first group of chimeras charged toward Miysis and his men. The griffins leaped to meet the enemy soldiers, and Clio ducked out of the way as the two forces clashed.

Lyre activated the spell and the arrowhead lit up. Aiming for a cluster of Bastian’s men yet to join the fight, he fired the bolt. It struck the ground in the middle of the group and a circle of golden light flashed outward. The ground inside the circle shattered. As stone burst in every direction, the daemons collapsed in the unstable rubble beneath their feet.

From their hidden location in a nearby alley, another third of Miysis’s force charged into the square and descended on the nymphs and chimeras flailing in the rubble. Two opinaris bowled over daemons, catching helpless victims in their huge beaks.

Lyre ran his fingers across his arrows. Most were spelled for battle against regularly shielded daemons, but he had a few options. He slipped a bolt from the quiver.

As another group of Bastian’s soldiers surged forward, Lyre activated the arrow and loosed it. The bolt arced upward then dropped toward the troop. Twenty feet from the ground, it exploded like fireworks and a hundred fiery orbs plunged down.

The blobs of magical fire stuck to the daemons’ shields. They faltered, batting frantically at the flames. Not lethal, but excessively distracting.

As the daemons flailed at the sticky fire, Miysis’s third team appeared from the other side of the watchtower, completing the trap that pinned Bastian’s forces against the structure, leaving them no room to retreat.

Lyre scanned the chaos, searching for the nymph prince, but he was too far to make out details through the rain. Miysis was easy to pick out as he expertly drove a borrowed halberd into a chimera’s chest. Clio darted among the warriors, her nymph agility surprising Lyre all over again. He was too used to her being clumsy.

She whirled between battling daemons, and with deft touches, she destroyed their defensive weaves. A trio of griffins had attached themselves to her—one guarding her, the other two falling on the enemies she exposed. Relieved she was safe, he again surveyed the fight—and his stomach sank.

It wasn’t enough.

Though even in numbers, Bastian’s soldiers only needed to land one hit to critically wound a griffin, while the griffins had to strike the same spot multiple times to take down a single warrior. The nymphs were fast and deadly with their magic, and the chimeras were powerful and almost as fast. They worked in pairs, lethal in combination, and the griffins fell one by one.

Lyre lifted his bow, arrow nocked. As the light of magic and flames flashed brighter, Bastian was illuminated. Guarded by four warriors, he waited at the tower’s base, the griffins unable to reach him.

Lyre drew the bowstring back but the wind gusted worse than before, and he knew he couldn’t make the shot. The two sides had mixed, enemies and allies tangled together, and he might take out griffins with his arrow.

Cut the head off the snake. That was the plan, and he had to make sure it happened.

Jaw clenched, he turned away from the ledge and ran back to the stairs. If the griffins were overrun, Aldrendahar would fall—all because of Lyre’s magic.

This. This was why Chrysalis was so rich, why Hades was so powerful, why master weavers were so sought after. This was why Bastian had invested years into molding Clio to his will so he could send her to Asphodel to steal Chrysalis’s spellwork.

The right magic could turn a battle. The right magic could win a war.

He reached ground level and careened outside, his leg aching but the limp almost gone. Slinging his bow over his shoulder, he dug into his pocket and pulled out his pouch of spells. Pausing in the shadows, he sorted them at speed, then selected the set he needed. Unfinished, unstable, and might blow up in his face, but it was all he had that could possibly work.

Gems clenched in his fist, he charged into the square. Furious shouts and pained cries rose over the roar of the storm. He dodged warriors as he cut toward the center, homing in on Miysis. Off to his left, Clio and her small team of griffins had been pushed to the fringe of the battle, defending against three chimeras and a nymph.

He couldn’t stop to help her. Ramming a nymph off his feet with one shoulder, Lyre dove into the circle of griffins around Miysis as the prince slammed the butt of his halberd into a chimera. Another griffin threw the daemon backward.

“What the hell are you doing?” Miysis shouted, rain plastering his blond hair to his face.

Wheezing, Lyre skidded to a stop beside the prince and faced the tower. On the other side of a dozen battling daemons, Bastian stood safe.

Lyre drew himself up. “Are you ready to fight the snake?”

Miysis’s eyes widened.

“If he pulls out a clock, don’t let him use it,” Lyre added before placing a gemstone between his teeth.

He held one stone in each hand, extending them so the three formed a triangle. Eyes narrowing in concentration, he activated the one in his left hand. A crackling line of magic shot to the gem in his right hand and he activated that phase of the weave. A double line of light shot for the gem in his teeth, and power vibrated his skull as they connected. He activated the third gemstone.

A triple beam of power shot to the first gem, forming a triangle. Golden light burst through the center, filling it with lines and runes. The power continued to shoot from gem to gem, growing in force with each pass. His muscles strained, fighting to hold the gems in place as he waited for the right moment.

Building. Building. The golden blaze eclipsed even the lightning above.

He triggered the final phase of the spell.

The force spinning through the three gems rerouted to the center of the triangle and blasted outward in a shrieking beam of power. It crashed through every daemon in its path, hurling them into the air with bone-breaking force. With a sizzling shriek, it hit the base of the tower and tore right through the stone.

Then the three gems shattered and the backlash slammed into Lyre. He hit the ground, unable to breathe, but it didn’t matter.

The blast had cleared a path, and Miysis didn’t hesitate. He launched into the opening, three griffins on his heels, and raced toward Bastian. The nymph bastard had dodged Lyre’s blast, but his protectors hadn’t been as quick and only two were still on their feet.

Despite the ferocity of Lyre’s spell, the battle continued. He rolled painfully onto his side, his ribs screaming. Feet surged all around, splashing in the puddles. He had to get up before they trampled him. He had to move.

He tried to rise but the pain locked his lungs. A pair of boots stopped nearby and he jerked his head up. A chimera stood over him, sword raised for a killing strike.

The daemon stumbled forward, then dropped to his knees. Clio appeared behind him, clutching a long dagger—its blade coated in the chimera’s blood. Her face was white but her eyes were black, her teeth bared. She mercilessly shoved the chimera over and knelt beside Lyre, already casting a bubble shield over them. She pressed her hand to his chest.

“You cracked your ribs again!” she growled. “Couldn’t you tell that spell was unstable?”

He stared at her. That was the sexiest growl he’d ever heard.

Not waiting for his answer, she sent a hot wave of healing magic rushing into his chest. Healing bones took more time than they had, so he assumed she was adding extra support to keep his ribs in one piece. The pain diminished, and the moment he could breathe again, he pushed upright, his gaze flashing past her.

Miysis had reached Bastian. A griffin soldier had fallen and the other two were battling Bastian’s protectors, leaving the two leaders to face each other. Prince against prince.

Miysis’s halberd whirled in his hands, wings arching off his back. Bastian darted side to side, unable to retreat with the tower behind him. Defensive weavings shimmered over his body and magic flashed down the lightweight saber he wielded.

Miysis didn’t hesitate, didn’t falter. He drove in hard, his magic burning across his body. His shields were strong and fast, holding against Bastian’s spells, and he was stronger, more fit, and a hell of a lot angrier.

His halberd struck Bastian high on the left arm and bounced off the weaves. Bastian whipped out a spell but it burst on Miysis’s swift spot-shield—a battle-fast barrier, small and tough for deflecting single attacks. Spinning, Miysis dropped low and used the butt of his halberd to sweep Bastian’s legs out. The nymph fell and launched up again in almost the same motion, but Miysis’s halberd swung around and hit Bastian’s left arm a second time.

Lurching back, Bastian tried to grab the chains around his neck, desperate for something more powerful—but he didn’t have time. Lyre could see it. There was a very good reason that he and his brothers, despite wielding some of the deadliest magic in the three realms, were well trained in several forms of physical combat.

Never depend on magic alone. It could be fast or it could be powerful, but it was rarely both. And fast, weak magic wouldn’t be enough to defeat Miysis.

Before Bastian could select the right gem, Miysis’s halberd came down on his arm for a third time. Blood splashed from the wound.

Beside Lyre, Clio tensed. Conflicted anguish twisted her face and her mouth moved in a whisper Lyre couldn’t hear, but he read the shape of the words on her lips.

“His shields are gone.”

Miysis’s strike hadn’t just cut a hole in Bastian’s defensive weaves. The griffin had damaged the shield to the point of failure, and that meant his next strike would kill.

Wounded and shocked, Bastian staggered. Miysis drew the halberd back and a hush fell, muting the battles and the storm.

Miysis lunged forward, blade aimed at the nymph’s heart—just as a nearby griffin battling a chimera stumbled backward. And Bastian, with no time to cast a spell, grabbed the griffin’s wing and pulled the off-balance warrior into Miysis’s path.

Sliding on the wet flagstones, Miysis pulled his blade away in a desperate attempt to abort his attack, but it was too late. He slammed into his own man, blade catching the griffin’s unprotected side and cutting deep. The warrior crumpled, his blood gushing across the flagstones.

For an instant, Miysis stood frozen in horror.

Bastian blasted Miysis’s halberd out of his hands. The force threw the griffin prince back and he landed on one knee.

Blade flashing, Bastian plunged his saber into Miysis.