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My heart seizes when I see the expression on his face. Pain mixed with confusion and more than a hint of fear.

“Are you hurt?”

My sense of foreboding rises when I watch him create a massive wall of water between a group of fleeing townspeople and their pursuers.

What’s he doing? Ice would form a much better barrier. And his water is moving strangely, almost sluggishly. Sections are shimmering.

Temporarily leaving Agnar to fight on his own, I battle my way to Sterling’s side, dispatching an attacker with a concussive blast of fire. “What’s wrong?”

At first, he doesn’t respond. The statue before him stumbles back, crushed by a torrent of water. Sterling stares down at his hands in horror.

They look normal enough to me. Strong and calloused from years of swordplay. “Sterling?”

“The water.” His wild eyes connect with mine. “It no longer belongs to me.”

Chapter Four

The second the words leave my mouth, Lark’s hair catches on fire.

Not just her hair. All of her. Flames spew from her body, wreathing her in radiance. The fire devours one of the massive stone assholes and lights the dust-clogged battlefield with a flash of crimson.

Yet the woman who owns my heart remains unscathed.

Her flames cradle us while she attacks. She spins a web of heat and destruction, and my gut clenches with both awe and desire.

My duchess. My warrior queen.

Lark requires no crown, or fancy gowns, or anything except herself to appear majestic. She simply is majestic. Every day, I think it’s impossible to love her more, and then she shows me yet another reason.

She’s magnificent.

If only I weren’t floundering.

I dig deep inside myself for my ice magic and curse when I slam into the resistance again. The shock of losing control is akin to falling off a cliff and slamming into the ocean far below.

Since I was old enough to wield, I never once lost command of my own godsdamned element.

Until now. Can’t say I’m enjoying the experience.

I batter the internal wall in an effort to reclaim my power as people continue to flee the courtyard. A hand grabs my arm, and I nearly punch Agnar’s cheek before I realize who’s shaking me.

Despite the dirt-streaked blood smeared all over his face, his mouth twitches. “Taking a little break while you put your honey to work? I think that crown’s turning you lazy.”

I can tell he’s joking, but my chest tightens with guilt anyway. Lark’s taken on far too much responsibility and suffered far too much because of me. First with the drachen corruption, and now this new clusterfuck with my elemental abilities.

Agnar squeezes my arm, grounding me just in time to watch an enormous stone fist swing at Lark’s head.

White-hot rage courses through my veins. Instinctively, I reach for my water with every fiber of my being, only to encounter more resistance. Like someone’s tampering with my element.

I grit my teeth and try again.

A cold more frigid than ice pierces me as I finally manage to tear through the internal resistance and blast the stone warrior with a water cannon.

I stumble as water crashes through the barrier like a broken dam. Relief bubbles inside me. Thank fuck. My element is back under my command.

Still, the thought of losing my power again—of losing her—punches me in the gut.

Keep your shit together, Barda. “This isn’t just an attack.”