Page 25 of To Kill a King
A vine exploded through the floor, shattering the marble with an explosive crack that spat sharpened bits of debris throughout the room. The tendrils dove for Malkov, grabbing his arms and wrenching them to the side. His grasp on his power crumbled.
The grimoire tumbled to the ground, splaying the pages wide and cracking its spine.
Malkov bared his teeth and growled as he strained against the intrusive shoots. “Brooks!”
An initiate in dark green robes stepped forward, her black hair falling across her face as the currents of magic flowed around her. Her hands worked the air, kneading the power as though it were dough.
A sword flashed to Malkov’s right and the vines fell away from his right arm. A heartbeat later, his left was free, as well.
The woman clenched her jaw, grinding until her tendons snapped. Staring at Malkov with a fevered gaze, she pulled her fists to her chest.
The pressure popped his ear drums as the mage flung the power she’d gathered at him. “Murderer!”
A ball of blue light soared across the room, heading straight toward him.
Brooks’ hand appeared in front of his face, the magestone he held flashing red as the two magics collided. The room flashed purple as the jewel absorbed the attack.
More vines sprang from the earth, seeking to entangle them. Leaving his inquisitor to deal with the plant, Malkov stepped forward. It seemed he’d been wrong—one magic user of decent strength remained in the college…even if she was just an initiate.
His chest fluttered, the corner of his mouth pulling upward as he met her gaze.
He’d rectify that.
She screamed, “You murder us like we’re nothing but wheat to be harvested!”
He ducked her next magic ball, letting it fly over his shoulder and impact uselessly against the wall. “That’s exactly what you are,” he ground out, wrapping his power around hers. “As king it is my right to use resources as I see fit, for the good of the realm!”
With the final word, he yanked.
The mage stumbled forward, landing on her knees. Her hand pressed against her sternum, as though she could physically hold onto her magic. Turning her face up to meet his gaze, her eyes flashed white.
Her power slipped through his fingers like warm butter, settling back into her core, where it belonged. She waved her hand at the room. “Bostar!”
Release.
The dozen remaining mages staggered backward as Malkov’s compulsion shattered. The strength of her magic washed over him like water in a hot spring.
God’s Teeth!
He blinked at her. “How did I miss a beauty like you?” Her energy alone could fuel a full whisperer.
Behind her, the others scrambled for the exits, doubtless hoping to overpower his guards. His inquisitor would never allow that to happen. But still… “Take them alive!” he called.
She glared at him, her upper lip curling. “The Mage Underground will have its revenge for this.” Flicking her wrist toward him like she was throwing a disc, she screamed, “Die!”
Malkov threw himself to the floor as a blade of power flew overhead. It carved a divot in the marble. No doubt it would have cleaved him in half.
“Traitor!” Brooks stepped into view, his sword against the mage’s throat and the magestone to her forehead.
With a sharp breath, she stiffened.
Pushing himself to his feet, Malkov approached. The sounds of fists hitting flesh reached his ears as the guards subdued the remaining mages, most of whom were more suited for academia than actual fighting. After all, any suitable mage warriors had already been enlisted, except the children. The familiar and soothing clank of irons replaced the muffled thuds of the scuffle as the sentries restrained each mage with bindings made from cold iron.
He leaned close, putting one finger beneath her chin to tilt her face to meet his. “Who are you?”
She spit, the globule landing on his cheek before sliding down to the floor.
“No!” He slashed his hand through the air to halt Brooks’ blade. The last thing he needed was to lose access to this woman’s magic through an overly enthusiastic Arcane Inquisitor.