The Poison Prince

Chapter XXVI

DEVANNA raised her hand up, palm facing out towards Xylia. Her eyes were as dark as the sky before a terrible storm. Letting the energy build up in her palm first, she shot forth a devastating blast of dark magicks that threw the young girl back into the wall. Xylia had no time to raise a defence, or even think about one. Her body cracked against the stone and she cried out in pain, crumpling to the floor as the sharp torment rippled down her spine. She rolled over, wincing, willing herself to get up again, but her limbs refused to listen.

"Xylia, we need you!" Julius yelled, his sword a useless shield against Devanna's magicks. The blade was bent and blackened by the attacks, but he was not going to surrender to the queen for anything.

Beyond the wall of ice Xylia could hear guards rioting in the hallway. Those who had chosen to remain loyal to Julius were pitted against those defending the queen. If they were under control via magicks no one seemed to care, or maybe they didn't even notice. The roars and hollers of loyalty helped raise Xylia back to her feet. She pushed through the pain as it waxed and waned, and fixed her gaze on the enraged queen, and the Empress by her side. Loreina only watched over the chaos, but in her eyes Xylia saw the fury. What was she waiting for? Xylia understood family and pride. She had learnt it from The Draca. There was no chance in all the kingdoms that she would stand there and let her daughter fight alone. Xylia was certain of that much.

Guests at the banquet had quickly begun to hide under the grand tables, or behind the lavish drapes. They wanted to be out of sight as fast as possible. This was not their fight. They hadn't come here tonight expecting to be embroiled in a battle. Quietly they prayed to whoever they believed in for the safety of their families and themselves. They just wanted to survive this night, to say the things they wished they had said.

Zechariahs helped one elderly Duke to crawl out of the firing zone, taking a hit from the queen in his efforts. She purposely targeted him with a fireball, which quickly damaged the armour but did little to hurt his Draca flesh. He winced all the same, falling forward from the blow, but succeeded in protecting the Duke, pushing him out of the way at the crucial moment. Zechariahs scrambled over to Xylia on all fours, gasping and wheezing.

"Coming into this I thought I'd die by the sword, not by the queen."

She gripped him tightly by the shoulders and shook him, hard. "You're not going to die at all, do you hear me?"

He gave her a small, melancholic smile and nodded once before pushing himself to his feet and rushing away from her with his sword clutched tightly in hand.

Remembering Julius' cry for help, Xylia crouched low and focused her strength. Aiming true, she froze the fireballs in the air, turning them into ice and letting them fall to the ground. They shattered on impact, a fine glittering dust coating the cold stone. It was a trying challenge, far more than Xylia had ever pushed herself to do before, but it worked. She couldn't stop them all, and some still slipped by, burning guards who fought for them, or setting fire to the tapestries that had hung on the castle walls for decades or more. She could see the rage growing within Queen Devanna. No one had stopped her magicks before. That instilled confidence in the young nobody, guiding her more than anything else could. Xylia rose to her feet and moved to face the queen. Momentarily, Devanna stopped her flurry of attacks and glared at the enigma of a girl before her.

"What are you?" She hissed, eyes ablaze with a fiery anger; though even in her ire she still held herself with the elegance expected of her. She was still physically beautiful despite the bitter ugliness of her heart which was now on show for all the nobles of Lyris to see.