Essence of the Angels (The Starlight Chronicles #2)

Chapter Ten

Valarie's POV

It was like an explosion of wind had launched me into the air, sending me hurtling towards Xanthias' Manor. I braced myself for impact, but before the stone could smack into me, another caress of ice-cold air graced my back and pulled me down to the ground. I landed with a hard thud in the dirt, grunting in shock and pain, elbows stinging. I'd barely pushed myself upright when she came at me again, this time with icicles shooting from her fingertips.

Eyes wide with alarm, I tried rolling out of the way, but my coat got all tangled up with my arms and legs. I shifted the heavy fabric off of me before dumping it off to the side. The icy air instantly wrapped around me, causing me to shiver with my muscles tensing in protest. I didn't have time to worry about that. This woman was going to murder me!

I had to find Devian. Where the hell was Devian?

I took off across the arena, but she followed me, sending more icicles after me. I jostled around the corner of the manor and kept sprinting through the overgrowth of wildflowers and blooming gardens. It wasn't as tended to back here and there was no path. Black sticks and branches scraped against my skin, as I plowed my way through, terror clutching at my heart.

Fresh blood oozed through the cuts and scrapes, but I didn't have time to worry about them. Ignoring their sting, I kept pushing my way through. My mind was spiraling as my heart pounded in my chest—did this woman kill Devian? How had he disappeared so quickly, so silently? What was I up against here?

Suddenly, the woman came at me from the side, bursting through a shrub and smacking me against the hard manor wall. I grunted, trying to kick her off, but she held me firm, her eyes dark with a twisted gleam of pleasure. Panic seized me.

"Devian!" I screamed, the sound tearing through my throat. I pleaded silently that he wasn't dead, that he could hear me screaming. Surely he wouldn't abandon me now— he cared about me, right? Well, maybe not cared, but I served a purpose for his cause. He needed me. I was the Zareina. I had to live—

The woman burned ice against my wrists. It was too cold—unbearably cold. I whimpered helplessly, trying desperately to summon my fire magic. A single flame.

Anything!

The woman eyed me curiously, then finally stepped back. I stared, wide eyed and hesitant, making note of my nearest escape route. Why had she let go?

"You don't have your spark," she said finally. "Most people, when threatened, can summon their magic without fail. It's their first instinct. But you . . . you have too much inner turmoil immobilizing you."

She folded her arms and glanced to her left. I followed her gaze only to find Devian and who I assumed was Xanthias standing there in the gardens, watching. My jaw dropped and I tried to scream at them, but all that came out was a choked sound.

They'd known.

That meant . . . this woman must be . . .

I turned back, and that gleam in her eyes was replaced by a modest gaze.

"I'm Stellena," she introduced, but didn't bother to hold out her hand. I was glad—I didn't want to shake her damn hand. Especially not right after she'd attacked me, but the fact that her fingertips were still blue with ice didn't help.

"Without that spark, your fire won't kindle," Stellena said finally, giving Devian a dark grimace. "I don't know how much help I can be until she sorts out her inner thoughts."