“I have energy!”
“You have the Pythian power but can’t access it. I can help—”
“Stop touching me!”
“—by increasing your personal strength—”
“I’m warning you!”
“—so you can shift uth out of here. Damn it, girl!” Rosier glared at me through a gap between my toes. “This isn’t exthactly fun for me, either!”
“Then cut it out!”
“I’m not . . . going to die . . . because of you! Now help me—”
“Oh, I’ll help you,” I growled, and kicked him.
He reared back, holding his nose and looking outraged. “You bith!” he screamed. “You coldhearted bith!”
And then he grabbed me.
But he was still handcuffed to the bed, which limited his range, and wrapped in the blanket, which limited his motion, and apparently, he hadn’t been trained in hand-to-hand combat by his son.
I had.
“Coldhearted? Coldhearted?” I got him in a headlock. “You’re the most coldhearted, conniving, evil son of a bitch I have ever—”
“Get off me!”
“—known in my life—”
“If you kill me, who is going to help you get Emrys back?” he wheezed.
“I’m not going to kill you! I’m going to make you wish you were dead!”
“Trust me. Working with you, I already do!”
The door slammed open. We looked up. I expected more grumpy mages, probably pissed that we were making so much noise
That wasn’t who I saw.
“Oh, fuck that!” Rosier screeched, and disappeared, just as a cadre of the demon council’s personal guard flooded into the room.
And since he was still cuffed to the bed, it went with him.
But I didn’t.
I hit the floor face-first, hard enough to see stars, not understanding how I’d been left behind. Until I saw the cut chain dangling off my wrist. And the ghostly knives gleefully zipping around the room, stabbing everything in sight. And the glass breaking, and the mages shielding, and the council’s guards hunkering down in their armor—
And then the lights went out.
It took me a second to realize that Rosier was back. And that it was lucky I’d still been sprawled on the floor, because the bed was, too. I hit my head on the underside anyway, which was on casters, so it was just high enough to accommodate a pissed-off Pythia. And then another one was yelling: “Forget the demon! Get the girl!”
But the council’s guards didn’t take orders from anyone except the council. And a second later my chin hit the floor again, when half a dozen supernatural soldiers leapt onto the bed on top of me. And then went flying back off, because war mages do, in fact, follow the Pythia’s orders.
Well, you know, most Pythias.
And then all hell broke loose.