Winds of Fire [ACOTAR]

CHAPTER FIFTY

Primrose didn't want to watch, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the scene before her. Heat kissed her skin, fire coming from both males, Beron's far stronger than Lucien's whose arm was already singed and blistering. As he stumbled back, he cupped his hand over his arm, golden-white light coming from his palm and wrapping around his forearm. When he pulled away, his arm was completely healed. Prim flickered her gaze to Helion, the High Lord stood with a proud smile as his son used the powers he had blessed him with.

Beron's cheeks burned red, hands erupting in flame, firing balls one after the other as Lucien rolled out of the way, sending his own back and catching Beron's leg. He braced himself on his other leg, swiping out with his fist as Lucien moved forward. It connected with his shoulder, Lucien swinging his leg to un-stabilise Beron as he went down. They both crashed to the floor. 

Lucien crawled across the space, standing back up to face Beron who was on his knees, sending a fireball straight for him. He blocked, stupidly throwing up his arm to shield his face but crying out as it burnt straight through to his flesh. Primrose cringed as he stepped back, tears brimming in his eyes as he healed his arm, this time taking a moment longer, the skin stitching together before their very eyes. By the time he was done, Beron was on two feet again.

"What's your goal here, Lucien?" he hissed, "We both know you don't have the guts to kill me."

His teasing words had Lucien running forward, punching out with all his might until Beron was coughing and falling into the mud. The High Lord only laughed, spitting blood onto the grass at his side. "Do it then," he chuckled, "You coward."

Despite the tight fist at his side, Lucien shook his head, "You're not worth it. You don't deserve a quick death, I want to tear you to shreds first."

Fear, Prim could have sworn, flashed in Beron's eyes for a mere moment. Lucien stepped back, hissing as he did so, "Get up."

Beron did, holding a hand to his chest and limping on his leg that was still healing from the burn. Lucien was right there, sending a foot into his chest as Beron sent a fireball that flamed along Lucien's trouser leg. He shook it off, patting it down with his palms as Beron steadied himself, sending fire that erupted against his shoulder and chest. Primrose wasn't the only one who gasped as Lucien hit the ground hard.

Nesta gripped Helion's arm as he attempted to move to his son, tears running down Lady Autumn's cheeks as Beron prowled forward. His feet pounded into Lucien's ribcage, fists coming down to punch his face, his jaw, his nose, blood pooling over his features. Moans and coughs escaped from Lucien and Prim couldn't take it anymore. She moved to Orion, hiding her face in his neck and squeezing her eye shut. Orion's hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to her hair. It was then, hearing the pounding of Beron and the choking of Lucien, that a scream erupted.

"No!" they cried, high-pitched and full of agony. At first, she had thought it was Feyre, but pulling away from Orion, she saw the High Lady was composed, her eyes wide in shock. She followed her gaze to the mountain were everyone stared, a blink against the horizon. Elain.

The fae stood within the mountain range, likely having travelled down from the cabin on her own when she sensed something was wrong. It could have been her seer powers, or the fact that her mate was the one in pain. The outburst caught Beron's attention, drawing him away from Lucien for just a second. He struck then, with everything he had, and fire blasted from his open palm.

It caught Beron, sending the High Lord to the floor, still as he hit the grass. Wrapping himself in golden healing light, even the Day Court powers couldn't heal him immediately. Lucien groaned out as his breathing got clearer, nose cracking back into place and ribs healing beneath his shirt. Pushing up on his side, he slid onto his knees, crawling across to his father.

Primrose could see it where she was stood, the blistering redness of skin, the thickness of blood as it seeped onto the grass. She couldn't imagine what it looked like upclose. Lucien was kneeling over him, reaching for something unseen. A blade appeared in his hand, small but sharp. Beron was choking on his own blood, his throat completely burnt and melted away.

"I'm only doing this," he whispered, the smell of burnt flesh carrying on the wind, "because if it were me, I would want it to end instead of having the drawn out pain I know you're experiencing."

Beron couldn't respond, his hands fisting in Lucien's shirt instead and pulling him closer. His fingers tightened around the hilt and only a breath escaped the High Lord as the dagger sunk right into his heart.