Fates Entwined: Halven Rising
Fates Entwined: Chapter 33

Reese lunged for the guard in front of her, stabbed him in the gut, and used the weight of her sword as a counterbalance to give him a neck-breaking roundhouse kick to the head.

And she didn’t stop there. She tore through the guards, one after another—stabbing, kicking, and dodging past Portia’s defenses as she made her way to the throne where Portia stood looking about smugly.

The woman thought she had things under control? Well, think again.

Portia was the reason for all of this—the reason Elena had been forced to save Fae from the only virus ever to affect their kind. The reason Reese had met Keen in the first place. If not for Portia, Reese wouldn’t have fallen in love with him. She wouldn’t have had her heart shredded into a million pieces that even her powerful best friend couldn’t fix.

Keen had held Illa’s face tenderly, the candlelight highlighting their beauty, just as he’d held Reese’s when he’d pleaded for her to stay out of any battles. Only this time, he’d cradled the face of his wife.

Reese knew how things would be once she’d arrived. Knew Keen would be lost to her forever, but she hadn’t expected to see such tenderness from her stoic Fae toward another. And it tore her apart.

Someone would pay for all she’d lost, and for what so many others had suffered. And that person was Portia.

The man in front of Reese pulled out a dirk from behind his back as she fought off the sword in his other hand. With a flick of his wrist, he slashed her thigh.

Her hand slipped on the pommel of her sword, but only for a split second. She balanced on her good leg and used the power of her injured leg to strike the Fae in the chest, knocking him into other fighters.

Reese’s stomach roiled as she caught sight of the blood gushing down her pants.

Her attacker scrambled to regain his footing. But even as she limped away, her leg was healing, much like a full-blooded Fae.

She made it past more soldiers and toward Portia, her leg completely functional again, her determination even stronger. Portia stood at the front, focused on the battle, arms relaxed at her sides. Her emotions confirmed her confidence, and for a moment, Reese worried.

Portia had to have known Derek would attack again, with Old Kingdom at risk after the marriage. But had she prepared for them to return this quickly? They’d thought they would catch her off guard, but now Reese wondered. There hadn’t been time for Portia to release the rumored second virus, had there? What if she’d been more prepared than they believed?

Camille flashed to a spot near Hakon, and stabbed a guard about to behead him.

Reese’s heart dropped and she gripped her sword. She hadn’t formally acknowledged Hakon as her father, but he was. He hadn’t raised her, but he cared about her. He’d shown it when Reese nearly died from the Ancient Allon—and before, if she thought about it.

The next place Camille sprang up was across the room, where she knocked the skulls of two guards together. She was so fast that Reese could hardly keep track of her.

Lives could be lost. Would be lost. She needed to keep a clear head.

Speaking of heads, a fireball flew past her, singeing the tips of her golden hair and landing square in the chest of a guard on her right…with a pickax a foot from her face.

The Fae with the pickax crumpled to the ground. Not dead, but injured enough that he wouldn’t be up for a few precious seconds. Enough time for Reese to keep moving.

Elena flashed her a smile and held up her thumb, before aiming a null bomb at the back of the room where a horde of Newlander soldiers had filed in. Between the water, fire, and other earth magic Newlanders wielded, they’d take the damn palace down if they weren’t careful.

A loud boom sounded, and then a slippery-looking, bubble-like film seeped over the guards Elena had targeted. They waved their hands—attempting to use magic?—and swiped at the clear film covering them. When their magic didn’t work, they pulled out swords and knives and attacked Elena’s guards with brute force.

Reese made it a few more feet, then dodged the sword of a seven-foot-plus Fae guard—and elbowed him in the family jewels.

Yep, that was how it was going to be. She’d fight dirty if she needed to. Being shorter than the rest had its advantages.

The man sank to the floor, groaning, and Reese hopped over him, making steady progress toward the front.

Portia no longer looked so smug, and Reese was closer to Illa now, along with Keen.

She didn’t want to look at him, but she couldn’t help it. And when she did, he was scowling.

Of course.

His gaze dropped to her leg. It had completely healed, but it was still covered in blood.

He had asked her not to fight, but screw that. He had no say in what she did. She was her own woman. A warrior, just like the rest of them. In her heart, she’d always been one, and now she was in truth. She loved her parents back home, but she was also Hakon’s daughter.

One of Derek’s soldiers crept up behind Illa’s back. Keen broke the Fae’s neck before he could do any harm to Reese’s sister. Not all of the men they’d arrived with understood the complexity of Hakon and Illa’s roles, even though they were fighting on the same side.

Keen continued to block anyone who got near Illa, but he also seemed to keep tabs on Reese as well.

She sighed. He needed to stop that. Things were confusing enough as it was.

Reese stabbed the Newlander next to her, who thought it would be fun to launch an electric bolt her way. The sparks in his hands died and blood bubbled from his lips. Okay, so she might have stabbed him in the lungs. Still, the guy would recover, but not before she swept past him and made it to Hakon.

Her father nodded at her, and continued fighting the Newlanders as he worked his way toward Derek’s men at the back of the room. But Reese was on a mission. And so, it seemed, was Elena. They were both making their way toward Portia, along with a contingent of Derek’s best men and several Newlander renegades who’d fought alongside Theda before Portia had her killed.

Portia wouldn’t get away with it. Not murdering Elena’s mother, nor so many Fae. Reese would spend her last breath to make sure of it.

Just then, a group of men and a few women in what looked like peasant garb cleared a swath of attacking soldiers from Reese’s path, touching them and dropping Portia’s military to their knees with what Reese assumed were mental powers.

These people had to be the Sunlanders Deirdre had convinced to fight. Their working-class dress, the fact that Reese hadn’t seen them at the Old Kingdom castle with the rest of the mentalists, and Deirdre fighting beside them were the top indicators. Sunlanders were historically passive, but after Portia had unleashed the disease in Tirnan and murdered half their population, they must have decided battle had its place in their world.

“Sister.”

Reese spun and caught sight of Illa. Her sister reached back and touched the arm of a Fae about to grab her. The Fae’s eyes went blank and then he spun around and grabbed his comrade instead, who seemed none too pleased with the headlock the man had him in.

“You need to go to Derek and the others,” Reese said. “Hakon is making his way there too.”

Instead of answering, Illa ducked, touched the ankle of a Fae attacking Keen, and stood as the Fae stabbed himself instead. “You must retreat as well. There are better fighters than the two of us.”

“Nope,” Reese said, and clubbed a guard in the back of the head with the butt of one of her larger knives.

He spun on her angrily, but Reese kicked the side of his knee, breaking it and knocking him into other fighters.

“Sister, you are good,” Illa said. “As good as the average soldier, but these men are experts trained to fight for the crown. They will not back down. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Reese didn’t bother glancing over. She was too busy clashing swords with a seven-foot guard with short white-blond hair who had decided she needed to die, given the ferocity sweeping off him. She feinted to the right, then kicked him in the chest, hearing the crunch of ribs snapping, before a different white-blond Fae moved up behind the guy and broke his neck.

Keen’s eyes blazed at Reese over the body that now lay on the ground, slowly writhing as his neck healed. “Take Illa and leave. I’ve already ordered Ulric to get you out of here.”

She swung her sword down and stabbed the guard on the ground in the foot. His broken neck was healing too quickly, and she had a few choice words to give to the arrogant Fae in front of her. “Illa can leave. I’m staying and fighting.”

Keen plunged his sword back and stabbed someone through the stomach—rather brutally, twisting it with a nasty crunch. He hadn’t even looked to see who it was, but Keen read minds, so…

“I do not have time to sit and argue with you about this. It is not up for discussion.”

“Oh good, because I have Fae ass to kick. Excuse me.” She turned to make her way to Portia, who was so close… Just a half a dozen feet more and Reese would be within arm’s reach.

But Keen moved in front of her, his large chest blocking her and forcing her to take a step back. “Do not make me throw you over my shoulder.”

Okay, now that just pissed her off. He would totally make good on that promise, and she couldn’t attack Keen the way she did these other assholes. As big a bossypants as he was, she didn’t actually want to hurt him.

Which made no sense. He deserved to feel pain. Her chest burned like the fires of hell just from thinking of him married to her sister. “Get out of my way, Keen—” Reese said, and then she felt it.

Not simple hatred, or determination, but a magnified mix of the two that was so powerful it smacked her in the gut like a punch. And it was coming off Portia. Who was staring at Hakon.

Reese ducked around Keen’s long legs—another privilege of being shorter than the rest—and raced toward her father.

Keen called after her, but she ignored him, focused on Hakon and whatever the hell Portia had planned. Reese scanned the area. And targeted one of Portia’s guards moving steadily to her father. The guard had no weapons—nothing that Reese could detect, anyway. But death—death was what he would inflict. Reese sensed the sour, dire finality of it in his body language and the flashes of feeling he gave off.

The guard was two feet away from Hakon—within striking distance. Reese didn’t know what he would do, but she wasn’t going to get there in time. She had been headed toward Portia, not her father, who was closer to Derek.

She glanced back. Derek and the others were fighting for their lives. Even if they could hear her above the din of battle, they wouldn’t be able to do anything.

The man reached for Hakon, and his hands were glowing…

Illa can confuse people—make them do the opposite of what they intend…

Reese closed her eyes and focused on the Fae’s emotions. She thought of happiness, life…serenity.

Seconds later, she blinked, fearing the worst.

But Hakon was still there, angling his large shoulders into the gut of a younger Fae who couldn’t take the bulk of the older man. The two of them toppled to the ground. And Portia’s Fae guard—the one with the glowing hands—simply stood nearby, looking confused, shoulders tucked close as though he didn’t want to move. Or touch. Or harm.

And he didn’t. Reese could read it in his emotions.

Had she done that?

She glanced around the room and targeted a Fae attacking Elena. Elena seemed to have the upper hand with the electric shocks she was sending the guy, but he wouldn’t quit going after her, no matter how many times she struck him.

Reese sent emotions of serenity and happiness his way, just as she had the man attacking her father, and the guard stepped back, brow furrowing. He backed against the wall, looking as though he wanted to escape.

Holy shit. If she could change a Fae’s emotions, she could change the course of the battle.

Already there were bodies lining the ground, no longer moving. Most were injured, but some had died, and there would be more death to come. But if she could make everyone calm?

Simply making everyone happy wouldn’t do it, because some of these men were bloodthirsty. They got off on the power of taking a life. No—it had to be kindness, contentment, and love that she spread.

Reese closed her eyes, and this time she thought of her love for her friends, her love for Keen, the contentment of replaceing her place in the world, and projected the emotions into the room. She focusing it on each point at which she sensed anger, a thirst for blood or violence, and greed.

Bit by bit, a change came over the room, with the exception of one target. But his emotions were worry and determination, not hate.

Reese opened her eyes and saw Keen staring at her. He looked around at the men who’d slowly stopped fighting.

With their two abilities blocking one another, Keen couldn’t listen in on her thoughts, and she could never read his emotions. It made sense he wouldn’t be affected by her new power.

But when Reese looked up at Portia, she too seemed unaffected. And Portia was staring straight at Reese with all the hatred and anger her soldiers now lacked.

Portia stepped forward and grabbed a gun from the holster of the closest Oldlander guard—and shot it straight at Reese.

A roar erupted from Keen.

The blast echoed in Reese’s ears, and she grabbed her chest, wiping feverishly at the film covering her. Not blood. Portia had stolen a null gun, eliminating Reese’s powers and her ability to calm the room.

Just as quickly as the anger had disappeared, it seemed to fill the space again. Fighting broke out like before, except this time, Reese found herself surrounded by guards. They lifted her, kicking and screaming, and took her toward Portia.

Keen was battling four men at once—his own men attempting to hold him back from reaching her.

Portia glanced at one of her head guards. “Bring in the rest of the soldiers. The ones infected with the modified disease. Show these”—her expression turned to one of disgust—“poor excuses for warriors what it means to have absolute power.”

Her gaze landed on Reese, still struggling in the arms of Portia’s men. “And you. I tolerated your filthy presence, but I see diplomacy is overrated.” She looked over Reese’s head, and Reese turned too. Keen had broken away from the guards and stood behind her, staring at the queen.

“Kill her, Keen Albrecht.”