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  Mercy managed to save eight of the nine wounded, including Meta, whose arm Mercy reattached, but she warned her not to use it during the battle.

  “It won’t be completely healed for at least twenty-four hours,” Mercy cautioned.

  After expending enough energy to work her healing magic on nine people, Mercy’s strength was greatly depleted, so much so that she could barely stand. She desperately needed rest, hours of recuperative sleep. But there was no time.

  As she continued her search, her legs grew weaker and her arms felt as if they weighed fifty pounds each. Her hands trembled. She staggered, then fell to her knees. She clutched her sword tightly but felt her grip softening.

  Hold on to Ancelin’s sword! Don’t let it go!

  Try as she might, she couldn’t keep her eyes open, couldn’t fight her body’s urgent need for rest.

  She toppled facedown onto the ground, Ancelin’s sword slipping from her fingers. She could hear the clatter of battle and smell the scent of death all around her as she lay there in her half-conscious state, drained and defenseless.

  She had to find cover, a place to hide away until she could reenergize. Forcing her eyes open, she reached to her side until her fingers encountered her sword. Clasping it loosely, she dragged it with her as she crawled toward a stand of trees less than fifteen feet in front of her. She made it halfway there before a booted foot knocked Ancelin’s sword from her grasp, then stomped on her hand, flattening it against the ground. As pain radiated from her hand, along her arm and through her body, Mercy gazed up into a set of cold gray eyes.

  Cael Ansara’s eyes.

  He lifted his foot from her broken hand, then grabbed her hair and yanked her to her feet. Realizing that in her condition she wouldn’t be able to fight him, she sent out a psychic scream for help. It was all she could do.

  Pressing her back against his chest, he slid a dagger beneath her chin, resting the sharp blade across her throat. He pushed his cheek against hers, and his hot, foul breath raked across her face as he laughed.

  “Judah’s beautiful Raintree princess.” Cael licked her neck.

  Mercy cringed.

  “Too bad we don’t have time for me to show you that I’m superior to my brother in every way.” He thrust his semi-erect sex against her buttocks.

  If only she could muster enough strength to command Ancelin’s sword to come to her, she might be able to—

  “Release her!” The commanding voice came from behind them.

  Before Cael managed to turn around, the hand he held to her throat sprung open, and his dagger fell out and dropped to the ground. Startled by the appearance of a man who had been nowhere near them only seconds before, Cael momentarily focused on Mercy’s rescuer and not her. While Cael was distracted, she directed her core of inner strength on one objective—freeing herself from his tenacious hold.

  Just as she managed to break away from Cael, Judah reached out, grabbed Mercy’s arm and pulled her to him. Cael growled with rage as Judah shoved Mercy behind him.

  Where had Judah come from, and how had he gotten here so quickly? Mercy asked herself. The only explanation was teleportation, an ability she hadn’t realized he possessed. But why had he appeared, and not Dante, whom she had beckoned with her silent screams?

  As Judah faced Cael, he spoke telepathically to Mercy. It wasn’t Dante’s name you called, he told her. It was mine.

  Had she actually screamed for Judah to save her and not Dante?

  How did you…?

  Eve transported me, Judah said. She also heard your screams for help, so she sent me to you.

  “How touching.” Cael’s lips curved in a mocking smile. “You actually called for my brother to help you. You must be a fool, Princess Mercy. Don’t you know the only reason he’s here to fight me is because he doesn’t want me to have the pleasure of killing you? That’s a treat he wants for himself.”

  Judah didn’t deny his brother’s accusations. In fact, he ignored them completely. Instead he instructed Mercy to lay her hand on his shoulder. When she hesitated, he said, “Trust your instincts.”

  She did, and laid her hand on his shoulder. Immediately she felt a surge of Judah’s strength transported into her. Not much, but enough to keep her standing, and enough to enable her to call Ancelin’s sword up from the ground and into her hand.

  Cael sent the first wave of mind-numbing mental bolts toward Judah, who deflected them effortlessly, then returned fire. Mercy moved backward, away from Judah, and knew he understood that she could now protect herself with the ancient power of Ancelin’s sword, which left him free to concentrate completely on the Death Duel with his brother.

  Cael used every weapon in his arsenal of powers and black magic to attack Judah and to counteract Judah’s superior abilities. Mercy watched while the brothers fought, bloodying each other, exchanging energy bolts and optic blasts, pulverizing trees and brush and boulders within a hundred-foot radius all around them. And then they charged each other, coming together in mortal physical combat, sword against sword, might against might.

  Mercy held her breath when Cael pierced Judah’s side, ripping apart his shirt and slicing into the flesh beneath. Judah cursed, but the wound didn’t affect his agile maneuvers as he backed Cael up farther and farther, until he managed to chop off Cael’s sword hand. Howling in pain as his sword fell to the ground along with his severed hand, Cael reared up and, using all his energy, conjured a psychic bolt. Judah deflected the bolt, sending it back toward Cael, who barely managed to escape. As he hit the ground and rolled, Judah strode toward him. Before Cael could rebound and come up fighting, Judah swooped over him and plunged his sword through his half brother’s heart. Cael screeched like a banshee. Judah yanked the sword from Cael’s heart, and with one swift, deadly strike took off Cael’s head.

  Cael’s body shattered, splintering into dust. Judah stood there silent and unmoving, his brother’s blood coating the blade of his sword. Mercy rushed to him, her only thought to comfort and heal Judah. Holding Ancelin’s sword in her left hand, she ran the fingers of her right hand over Judah’s wound, then realized his body had already begun healing itself.

  Judah pulled Mercy to him and slid his arm around her waist, each of them still holding their battle swords.

  “Judah Ansara!” Dante Raintree called.

  Gasping, Mercy lifted her gaze until it collided with her brother’s.

  “Release her,” Dante said. “This fight is between the two of us.”

  Judah tightened his hold about Mercy’s waist. “Do you think I intend to kill her?”

  In that moment Mercy understood that Judah had no intention of harming her. He wouldn’t have given her the strength to retrieve Ancelin’s sword if he hadn’t wanted her to live.

  “He saved me from Cael when I was too weak to fight,” Mercy said.

  “Only to save you for himself,” Dante told her. “Have you forgotten that we are at war with the Ansara?”

  “Only with Cael’s warriors,” Judah corrected. “Or have you been too busy fighting to realize that my army was killing more of Cael’s soldiers than you Raintree were? I brought my army here to defeat Cael and to save my daughter…and her mother.”

  Mercy’s gaze met Judah’s, and their minds melded for a brief moment, long enough for her to realize that Judah was telling the truth.

  Dante narrowed his gaze until his eyes were mere slits. “You’re lying.”

  Mercy sensed that her brother was not going to back down from this fight, that he had every intention of engaging Judah in battle, Raintree Dranir against Ansara Dranir. To the death. When Dante stepped forward, sword drawn, gauntlet dropped, Judah shoved Mercy aside and confronted his enemy.

  “No, Dante, don’t! I—I love him!” Mercy cried. When he disregarded her completely, she turned to Judah. “Please, don’t do this. He’s my brother.”

  Both men ignored her. If only her powers hadn’t been depleted to such a great extent, she might have been able to stop th