Serena's instincts took over.
Sparkling magic erupted from her palm, nothing like the gold she was used to.
It wrapped around the blade in midair, stopping it three inches from her chest. Three inches. So close that she could feel heat radiating from the dark magic. And what stood between her and death looked like it belonged at a six-year-old's birthday party.
Then it fell to the ground with a clatter, still trapped in its shimmering cocoon.
Serena felt Fin's terror through their matebond. Raw, unfiltered, the kind of fear that belongs to a man who would burn a fortress to its foundation before he watched a blade touch her.
The High General stared at it. Then his eyes flicked to Serena.
His expression shifted from confusion to disbelief and landed on what looked suspiciously like professional embarrassment at being thwarted by glitter.
"You are Fae then, aren't you."
It wasn't a question.
