Page 54 of A Kiss of Flame
one day left to find levian
Barith had spent precious days trying to track Levian with no success. He'd even managed to get his arse to Veldaraen, only to wait on that cursed little island for an entire day before finally coming to terms with the fact that he’d likely missed her. The mage hadn’t returned a single one of his calls or texts. Barith knew she was probably ignoring him, but he couldn’t be sure, and the not knowing gnawed at him, driving him mad with worry. His gut twisted at the thought of her in trouble, and the relentless ache of anxiety kept him going, kept him searching.
The cold, misting rain soaked through his clothes as he swooped down below the low clouds, circling the large estate. The house was large and well-appointed, with a lovely garden in the back. It brimmed with signs of the party His Daemon Lordliness had mentioned.
The last person Barith had expected to help him find Levian was Carvatticus. The daemon had called an hour earlier, ordering Barith to get to Manchester because he couldn’t. Levianwas about to get herself into trouble. She was sneaking into a party to meet some old acquaintance of her father’s to get something she needed to track her thieves. She’d promised Car via text she’d be careful, but neither the daemon nor Barith had believed her. Levian could be clever and resourceful, but her stubbornness could also make her reckless. The fact that she was doing this alone, without anyone else, proved point enough.
Barith circled the house again, dipping lower. He wasn’t sure how he would find Levian beyond bursting in and snarling her name. It was pure desperation at this point—if something had gone wrong, if she was hurt or in danger, he couldn't bear the thought of it. And then he saw a bright flash from one of the upper-floor windows. His heart skipped a beat, then pounded furiously as a surge of adrenaline hit him. He didn't need his heart’s confirming thumps to know it was her. He was already diving toward the window.
The dragon crashed through the glass, the force sending shards flying in every direction as he pulled his flaming sword from his chest, preparing for battle. He barely registered the chaos of broken glass as he landed, scanning the room. Levian spun around to face him. “Barith,” she breathed, her voice filled with shock and a hint of relief. His heart immediately lightened to see her alive, but his gaze fell on the blood trailing down her arm, and his heart hardened. Levian stood over an unconscious man, her arm bleeding badly, a Dökk blade in her hand.
A black-haired woman hiding behind a chair suddenly lunged at Levian. Barith snarled, trying to close the gap, but wasn't quick enough. He watched, a moment of panic seizing him as the woman caught Levian around the waist, hauling her to the floor. He tried to grab the woman—but a whip of shadow magick coiled around his wrist, yanking him backward. The magic burned against his skin, dark energy binding his movement.
Barith turned with a growl, his eyes locking on the once-unconscious man holding the other end of the whip, struggling to stand. The man's nose was broken and bleeding, much like Deckland’s had been back at Kamár, and he cradled his hand as if it, too, was injured. Before either could move, the Dökk blade flew through the air and bounced, landing between them. Barith swung his flaming sword, slicing through the shadow whip, and lunged for the blade.
A ball of shadow magick flew toward his face, and Barith dropped low to avoid it, his fingers missing the blade. He turned, narrowly dodging another attack, his body a whirl of instinct and fury. He kicked a chair into the man’s legs, knocking him over, sending his next shadowy attack careening into a glass case full of relics that shattered and splintered.
Levian screamed, and Barith whipped around, his blood roaring in his ears. The black-haired woman was straddling the mage, one hand smashing her face into the floor, the other holding a silver blade that was plunged deep into Levian’s bad arm. Barith roared, charging forward, and shoved the woman off the mage, sending her crashing into the front of a desk. She hit her head and fell to the floor in a heap.
Barith helped Levian off the floor, cradling her protectively against his chest. He could feel her trembling, her breaths shallow, her face pale with pain. “How did you find me?” she panted, her voice shaky.
“Car,” he growled.
Levian huffed a little pained laugh of understanding as she reached over to yank the knife from her arm, hissing in pain. “I can’t do magick,” she told him. “The room is enchanted.”
It suddenly made sense why Levian hadn't been protecting herself—why she'd seemed so vulnerable. The realization made his rage burn hotter. He pulled her toward the window, intent on getting her out of there, but she stilled him. “The Dökk blade,”she gasped, her eyes full of determination even as her body sagged against his. “We can’t leave it here with Vane.”
Barith’s heart twisted in conflict. He wanted to get her out of danger. “We need to go,” he growled as he saw the man begin to regain his footing.
“I can handle her. Get the blade,” Levian insisted, stumbling toward the desk.
Barith knew better than to argue with her when she looked like that. He nodded, fury pumping through his veins, and lunged toward Vane, who was hobbling to his feet. The man's furious black eyes met his, and Barith felt a chill emanate from him. The dragon brushed it off, lifting his sword to cut down the ball of shadow Vane sent hurtling toward him. Barith didn’t rely on magick like Levian, so he was used to facing magick slingers with nothing but his sword.
“You will pay for this,” Vane snarled. “Both of you. You have no idea?—”
“Who we’re messing with?” Barith finished condescendingly. “Aye, I don’t. And I don’t give a toss either.”
Vane glowered at him, pulling the shadow magick into his bad right hand. Barith replied by summoning the fire from within him, setting his sword ablaze. Vane smirked, vanishing in a swirl of shadow. Barith grunted and went still. He knew the trick but hoped Vane was arrogant enough to try and get close. Using transport magick meant Vane had to know precisely where he was reappearing, and Barith was keen enough to catch the slight shift in the air to his right. He spun around, swiping his sword just as Vane reappeared, ready to attack.
The blade sliced across Vane’s outstretched hand, and he howled in pain. Several of his fingers landed on the floor as Barith slammed the hilt of his sword into Vane's face, the impact hard enough to send the half-fae sprawling to the ground, unconscious once more.
“Look out!” Levian yelled.
Barith didn’t have time to turn before the black-haired woman kicked him square in the back between his wings, sending him stumbling into the wall. She grabbed the Dökk blade off the floor, her eyes wild and furious as she looked down at Vane.
“You’re both dead!” she snarled, her voice dripping with venom. She lunged at Barith, her movements quick and calculated. He swung his sword in response, but she dodged him with precision. She slashed again, her blade grazing his chest, and an icy chill spread through his body, making him shiver.
The woman’s glare was filled with hatred, her eyes blazing with fury. “You will pay,” she spat, her voice dripping with malice. Barith gripped his sword tighter, ready to take her. She spun around suddenly, launching the blade straight at Levian.
Barith’s heart dropped as he watched the black blade fly through the air, knowing Levian was helpless to stop it. He saw her lift her hands instinctively, desperation in her eyes, but no magick came. The blade plunged into the flesh just below her collarbone, and Barith’s heart twisted in agony. He roared and brought his flaming sword down toward the woman. She ducked away, narrowly avoiding his strike, and grabbed Vane. In a swirl of ashen smoke, they both vanished.
Barith rushed to Levian, his heart pounding in his ears, panic tightening his chest. She lay on the floor, the hilt of the blade protruding from her chest, her face contorted in pain. She groaned, her body trembling violently. He dropped to his knees beside her, his hands shaking as he grabbed the blade and yanked it free, knowing the longer it remained, the worse the injury would be. Levian screamed, the sound raw and agonizing, and it pierced his heart. “You’ll be alright,” he promised, pressing his hand against the wound to still the bleeding.
Levian’s violet eyes met his, wide with fear and pain, her breaths coming in short gasps. A tear slipped down her cheek, and Barith felt his heart break. He had to save her—he couldn’t lose her, not now, not like this. “I’ll get you out of here,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “It’s not but a wee scratch.”
Voices and shouts echoed from the hall beyond as reinforcements began to descend.
“Purse,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Stepping stone.”