The room had been leached of color, the icy blues now gray, the shafts of sunlight from the window pure white. I looked at my fingertips and saw a haze of onyx smoke curling from them.
Arcus and Rasmus struggled a few feet away, and though Arcus’s arms bunched with the effort of holding his brother off, his knees buckled as Rasmus’s hands squeezed his throat. I watched them with detached interest, trying to remember what I had wanted so badly only moments before. I tried to move and found that I was still encased in ice.
Break this ice, I thought, and the ice exploded into half-melted shards, glistening like white gems as they filled the air and skidded across the floor.
Hadn’t I been part of the king only moments ago, my darkness inside him? He was my ally.
“My king,” I said, and my voice was tinged with the sound of chiming bells, haunting and resonant. I sent a whirlwind of heated air at Arcus, and he was thrown several feet away, sliding across the floor in a screech of armor on stone.
I walked slowly to Rasmus, and he watched me intently with eyes that were no longer as black, but showing a wider rim of dark blue. He took a shuddering breath. “You merged with the Minax.”
“We are one,” I answered with my strange new voice.
He reached out slowly, put his hand to the back of my neck, and pulled me forward, his lips meeting mine. He gasped when they met.
“Your skin burns,” he said. But his lips returned to mine and I pressed myself against him, returning his kiss.
“Ruby!” said Arcus, my name the very sound of shock and betrayal.
“She chose, brother,” Rasmus replied, smoothing a lock of hair from my cheek. “She chose power.”
“I am power,” I corrected, pointing to the throne.
Not a scrap of shadow marred it now. The Minax had left the throne and was in me, and was me, and I was it, and I would never give up this incredible power. But some part of the Minax was still linked with Rasmus. He still held some of my shadow energy, and I wouldn’t share this. I wanted it all.
“Leave the king,” I told the Minax, and a ropelike cord of shadow swirled from him and into me. Rasmus doubled over, putting his hands to his knees for support.
“Don’t take it all, my sweet,” said Rasmus shakily. “We need to share it.”
I hesitated. I didn’t want to give up even a shred of this feeling. The Minax spoke in my head. “You have freed me. You needn’t share our power long. Give him only enough to kill the brother, and we will feed on their grief and hatred and leave this place strong.”
I nodded, then touched Rasmus’s cheek and poured darkness back into him.
“Thank you,” he said with a smile.
“Kill him,” I commanded.
Rasmus drew his hands back and snapped them forward, hitting Arcus with a massive blast of frost. Arcus turned to take the blow on his shoulder, raising one hand to punch out his own onslaught.
“Need more,” Rasmus whispered, and I touched him again, giving him my dark energy.
As some of the darkness left me, the world gained color and I looked at Arcus with new eyes.
“You’re hurting him,” I said, expressionless. The Minax had said this would make me stronger, but I felt a vague sense of discomfort that even the oblivion couldn’t touch.
“Yes,” Rasmus gritted, “if only he would die faster.” His muscles coiled as he slammed out blow after blow of sharpened ice. The room filled with an echoing howl as it cut into the tender skin of Arcus’s neck, who used one hand to staunch the blood as he fought with the other.
I continued to watch until a gash formed on Arcus’s hand, making him cry out and curl up to take the blows against his back.
“Something is wrong,” I said, putting my hand around Rasmus’s wrist and pulling his arm down. His frost swirled against the floor and ceased. “I don’t want him to die.”
Rasmus met my eyes, his own nearly black again. “Don’t let your resolve weaken. We’re so close.”
“Ruby,” said Arcus, sitting up, bloody and panting with exhaustion. “Help me.”
“No,” said Rasmus. “He must die so we can take his power, and together we’ll be unstoppable. Do it, Ruby. Show me your strength.”
A rush of anticipation filled me. Hesitating for only a second, I raised my hand and let my fire explode at Arcus. He met it with frost. As the two columns merged, they sparked into white-and-blue fire that flowed toward the ceiling like a geyser.
“Frostfire,” Rasmus breathed, laughing delightedly. “The fire that can burn through anything. It was said only a divine being could create it, but here you are, making the stuff of gods. I knew you were special.” He turned to gloat. “Even you’re no match for it, brother!”
He added his frost to the columns, all three jets joining and creating a blinding-white pinwheel with a blue center. He used the force of his frost to bend the sparking flame, the blue center moving inexorably toward Arcus.
“When it reaches him,” Rasmus said, grinning, “he’ll be nothing more than a stain on the floor.”