56. Dex

56

DEX

I t had been years since I last set foot in Lumilia. At the time, I’d only been a teenager swearing allegiance to the king, and I never went inside the castle itself, remaining instead in the courtyard or in the barracks where all the other soldiers stayed.

I sure as hell had never heard anyone say the castle could change itself.

With my friends around me and my sword in my hand, I ran through the halls. Our cabin had been alive, in a way. Our magic—mine more than most—had given it a sort of life. So the thought of this place having a similar quality wasn’t completely foreign to me.

But given what was happening around us, the castle was currently in a battle for its life—and from what I could tell, it wasn’t exactly winning.

Branches grew from the stone walls like they were intent on ripping the entire place apart. Rot clung to everything, chewing into the stones like it was devouring the granite and the magic alike. But worst were the fissures where everything just… ended.

“Gap in the floor, straight ahead,” the demon called back. He stepped over the jagged gash of nothingness in the granite, his body hunched awkwardly to keep his wings from hitting the ceiling. “Stupid little one this time.”

Clay gave a wry chuckle, enjoying the demon’s insults, but I kept my attention on the walls and floor as Ozias and I stepped over the gap as well. The strange fissures had started showing up the closer we came to the outer walls, like they were another form of rot slowly gaining purchase on the castle itself. And they seemed able to spread quickly, or for others to open near them without warning.

We couldn’t take anything for granted.

“Here, allow me.” Byron hefted the steward over the gap and then set the man back down. I vaguely recalled the thin, graying man from the day I swore allegiance to the throne of Aneira. He’d been rigid. Proper. Seemingly clothed in rules and correct procedures as much as the formal livery of his station.

Even the castle becoming this madhouse of trees and rot hadn’t done much to shake that from him.

“Thank you,” Harran said with a tight nod. “Much appreciated.”

Shaking my head, I kept going. We had to be getting close to the courtyard by now.

As if summoned by my thoughts, an archway waited at the end of the larger hallway around the next turn, sunlight shining down on the flagstones beyond. The demon and Ozias had both stopped short of it, hanging back from the reach of the light.

“Well,” Lars said, clearly trying to keep a positive note in his voice when he spotted the exit too. “Here goes nothing.”

Cursing silently, I adjusted my grip on my sword and continued down the tunnel, only to pause when I reached the archway.

The courtyard was empty.

Clay made a sarcastic sound. “Oh, no. This definitely isn’t a trap.”

“Now what do we do?” Byron asked, peering past our shoulders at the empty space. Shaped like a pentagon with crenelated walls on three sides and the tall castle walls forming two more, the courtyard spanned several thousand square feet. A tall, barred gateway stood on the opposite end, directly across from us. Broad, gray flagstones covered the ground everywhere except for where a ring of dirt and dead grass waited at the center of the courtyard. At the heart of that ring stood the royal tree.

Or what was left of it.

For a moment, I stared, my examination of the courtyard faltering at the sight of the twisted thing that had once been the royal tree of Aneira. Generations of Aneirans had tended to it lovingly, and in my memory, the tree had been a beautiful testimony to what humans could do if only they tried.

But now its bark was covered in writhing black veins of rot. Its branches looked like those in the castle, skeletal hands clawing at the air. Even in the depth of winter, countless apples hung from its branches, all of them emanating that same nauseating energy designed to draw us in and make us devour them, never mind that we could die.

An icy, crystalline feeling surged over my skin, dulling the pull.

The magic of Erenelle. It wasn’t having any of that crooning nonsense. Even as the chill of its power sank back inside me, becoming almost imperceptible once more, nothing about the apple tree appealed to me.

Except making sure it died.

Returning my focus to the courtyard, my mind raced to calculate the possibilities—or lack thereof. I could see what Casimir had spoken of now: magic lit the sky to the west where the apothecary district lay. Hopefully that meant the witches, the giants, and maybe even the shadow wolf had made it, but it didn’t do us much good at the moment. Meanwhile, the windows on the castle were a threat, as were the spaces behind the crenelations. Either could hide attackers, and save for this door, the courtyard exit on the far end, and the main entrance to the castle itself, we’d be utterly exposed with nowhere to retreat from any of them.

Clay was right. Perfect place for an ambush.

And we had no choice but to enter it anyway.

“Surround the princess,” I told the others, still keeping my eyes on the empty courtyard. “We move fast and we don’t stop until we’re across the?—”

Rumbling suddenly shook the corridor where we stood. The flagstones on the floor cracked, branches shooting up fast between them.

“Holy shit, go!” Clay shoved us forward.

Branches tore the air, growing so rapidly that in only moments the hallway was choked by them.

Separating us from Harran on the other side.

“Princess!” he shouted. “I-I can’t get through!”

“Run!” she ordered him. “Get out of here. Don’t let this?—”

She cut off with a panicked cry as the branches started tearing into the ceiling and pushing through the outer wall of the castle itself.

Biting back a curse, I spun, my eyes sweeping the courtyard while the steward retreated from the collapsing hallway. As yet, no one had launched an attack, barring the damn branches that had just driven us out into the open.

But that could change at any moment.

“Move,” I ordered the others. “Stay together.”

As one, we started across the courtyard, the princess shielded at our center. I’d spent years training my friends, drilling them on all I knew about how to fight and survive as a unit. It was the best way I knew to show them I cared, by making sure they could stay alive if worse came to worst.

No matter what else happened, pride in them filled me now.

“Voidborn!” Niko called.

My eyes darted to the side. A dozen of those green-skinned men with tusks were pouring out of the main castle door, massive axes and swords in their hands and vicious lights glowing in their eyes.

“Got more of them!” Lars called back.

On the other side of the courtyard, harpies landed on top of a crenelated wall, leering down at us like they couldn’t wait to tear our flesh from our bones.

“Pick up the pace,” I ordered, gauging our distance to the tree. We’d just crossed the edge of the ring of dirt and roots, with only a short distance left to go. “We’re almost?—”

Like the invisible hand of a full-size giant, something slammed into me, sending me flying. Pain erupted from my shoulder and side as I crashed down, dazing me, and my sword clattered on the flagstones.

Scrambling back up, I grabbed my weapon. My friends were scattered, thrown to the ground same as me. Above us, the harpies were circling, their ear-piercing shrieks of joy tearing the air.

But Gwyneira was on her feet. Unlike the rest of us, she hadn’t been tossed down, and she stood only a few yards from the tree.

A massive globe of misty, crystalline glass surrounded her and the tree alike, as if someone had turned a round bowl on its head, trapping her inside.

“Holy shit.” Clay shoved to his feet. “Hang on, princess!” He charged forward, sword drawn.

Shrieking, the harpies dove, swiping at him and narrowly missing. He skidded to a stop, retreating as another barreled at him.

Growling, Ozias swung at them with his ax, tearing one down while the others darted away.

The green-skinned men thundered toward us, weapons ready.

Swearing blurred through my mind, but it was background noise to the focus that honed my senses. Slashing my sword, I sent one harpy spiraling into the flagstones. Spinning the blade fast, I stabbed behind me, taking down one of the green-skinned monsters at my back.

Ahead, the princess struck the wall, shouting without sound behind the thick barrier. Even her vampire strength couldn’t crack the glass.

Fuck.

“Take that thing down!” I shouted at Byron and Casimir as I cut through another green-skinned attacker.

“I’m trying!” Byron yelled back.

Turning into smoke, Casimir wove through the battlefield at high speed, coalescing into human form just shy of the glass. Pressing his hands to the barrier, he viciously snarled something I couldn’t hear.

Light flared like twin suns bursting to life beneath his palms. The blast roared across the surface of the glass, blindingly bright. Behind him, Byron flung out a hand, shouting something in old Erenlian.

Crackles like lightning crawled over the glass, joining his light. Inside the glass, the princess shielded her eyes. Through the strange connection we all now shared to her power, I could feel her magic pouring from her outstretched hand, aimed at the glass.

“Come on,” I urged between gritted teeth, spinning out of the way of a diving harpy. “Break, you fucking?—”

An icy wind suddenly whipped over the courtyard, driving me backward. The harpies scattered and the green-skinned men stopped, struggling to stand in the face of the onslaught. Casimir staggered, fighting to hang onto the wall and his spell alike.

The wind faded. A chuckle carried through the silence in its wake.

“Oh, I think that’s quite enough.”

A thumping pulse went through the glass. Casimir flew backward, thrown from the globe like he’d been hit by a battering ram. Before he hit the ground, he shifted and turned, twisting in midair and then landing on his feet.

The queen paced calmly around the side of the misty globe. “Impressive.” She regarded Casimir. “You have the look of the Zeniryan royal family. I’d heard one of my sister witches devoured you all. I didn’t realize one of you remained for Gwyneira to turn into a pet .”

She chuckled to herself like the words were some secret joke. Her blond hair gleamed in the sunlight, but so did her skin, the latter with a faintly silver sheen that made no sense. Her black dress seemed to absorb the light completely, swallowing it whole and letting nothing return. When she smiled, her fangs glinted between her red lips while her blue eyes were as soulless as a doll’s.

“Release the princess,” Casimir growled.

Queen Melisandre made an amused sound. “Such loyalty . Risking so much for my pathetic stepdaughter and her idiotic crusade. As if you’d find any other outcome than simply watching her die.”

The demon’s snarl tore the air. Claws at the ready, he charged.

Her hand caught him around the throat, stopping him in his tracks. The demon’s eyes went wide as he struggled and couldn’t break free.

“No, no,” she chided. “I have something special planned for you.”

The air warped. Gaps in reality suddenly appeared between them, tearing across his chest and arms like invisible claws.

The demon screamed.

Metal flashed at the corner of my eye. With a roar, Ozias hurled his ax through the air. The blade spun end over end, flying for the space between the demon and the queen.

A heartbeat ahead of when the blade would cost her an arm, she released him. The demon crumpled to the ground, hunched over the wounds on his chest and arms.

The queen’s eyes turned to Ozias. She smiled, the expression brutal in its satisfaction.

Dread gripped me, but she didn’t attack. “Keep them here,” she said to the Voidborn calmly. “And save the winged one for last. I need to have a word with my stepdaughter.”

She turned away and walked through the glass like it wasn’t even there. Inside the globe, Gwyneira retreated, her eyes locked on her stepmother.

As one, the Voidborn charged.