“Etta,” he said.
She flicked her eyes from his face to the hand on her arm, the magic goading her into doing something about it. One last shred of sanity reminded her Belaens weren’t the enemy, but that was as far as it went. If they weren’t her enemies, what were they? She didn’t know. The confusion locked with the darkness swirling inside of her. Nothing. They were nothing.
A blast sounded behind them and Etta turned, ready to meet whoever sent rock raining down on them. She froze when her eyes met those of the woman she’d come to destroy.
La Dame’s charred body healed itself, pink skin slowly smoothing over the burned surface. Soon, only her eyes spoke of fire.
Fear tried to intrude on Etta’s mind but she pushed it away. There was no time to be afraid.
Edmund stepped up to her side
