56

At least seventy sword-wielding soldiers with hard frowns and clenched fists stand at the ready on the cobblestone street. They’re glowing blue, but there’s something else happening here besides their curious good health. Just like that soldier we passed on the road, the one wearing a dead man’s armor, I can’t hear the thoughts of any of these soldiers or their horses. Just that drone of waves hitting the shore, constant, high and low, hissing and unchanging.

These soldiers’ capes morph from blue to no color at all, blending with shadows and light, there and not there. Their armor isn’t simple copper and chain. No, the metal breastplates are engraved with runes that glow with blue light. These are not the same type of soldiers I fought in Maford or outside Caerno Woods. These are not the same class of soldiers guarding Gileon Wake in the sitting room.

I don’t recognize those blue glowing letters or symbols, but I do recognize the soldiers’ thicker-looking skin, and those weaponized capes, and the magical forces protecting them. These mage-soldiers are meant to stop me.

For good.

Elyn has thought of everything—if anyone can stop me, if anyone could cast a spell on an entire army, it would be her.

With his guards close behind, Gileon swaggers past and saunters down the porch stairs. “I guess my stop here was a waste of time. Obviously, brother, you’ve made your choice. But I can’t let her leave this town. Not if you want to live beyond this season. Not if I want to live long enough to become emperor of Vallendor.”

It feels as though fog is building in the space beneath my ribs, pressing and cold and growing and pushing. The pain that had radiated from my knee has swallowed my toes and now creeps from one shoulder to the other.

Beyond this ring of soldiers stand a dozen or so horses, some with riders, some without. Olivia is seated on a slate-colored horse in the middle. There are bruises around her eyes and nose, and her wrists are tied around the saddle horn with rope. Eyes glazed, she turns her head to scan the crowd and wobbles, barely maintaining her balance.

The twinkle of red and gold gems blink against her torn gray blouse as Gileon deftly parts the soldiers and makes his way to that slate-colored horse. “Like I said…” He grabs the saddle and hoists himself into position behind Olivia, who winces. “I won’t stop either of you from retrieving the amulet. You want it? Come take it, then.” He grabs the reins and spurs his horse as the soldiers from the inn all mount their own horses. Together, the contingent rides west.

“No,” Philia cries out. “We have to follow them!”

We do, but first, I must remove the two-legged obstacles blocking us.

“Can those things be killed?” Philia whispers.

“If they bleed, they die,” Jadon whispers back.

“Unless you’re lying about that, too?” I snark.

“Kai,” Jadon says. “I promise—”

I’ve stopped listening to him—I’ll use his brawn now and deal with his betrayal later. I lock eyes on the largest warrior in the battalion before us.

The only skin that isn’t protected by armor on this man resembles the pebbly scales of lizards. Even his eyes look as though they’re protected beneath resin. Underneath all the magic and fortification, the space around his heart glows the bluest, throbbing hard and quick.

Yes, he can be killed.

Jadon clenches Chaos, but I don’t wait for him to swing. I sweep both of my hands across the air, using wind to knock the first row of soldiers, including the big soldier, onto their asses. My vicious gale sparkles with red and gold dust. It’s beautiful and incredibly effective, but using my power has made that troubling, traveling pain carve a line from my shoulders down my arms to my hands. Every place on my body that pain has passed—from my knees to my toes and across my shoulders—is now numb.

Wind and fire will have to be my last resort.

Before the soldiers can clamber back onto their feet, I storm down the porch steps, and in a single bound, I stand over that giant soldier. I grab the blade of his broadsword and easily yank the weapon out of his hands. “You may be magic,” I tell him, “but you still need to know how to fight.” Then I drive his sword into the only available, unprotected space: the pebbly-skinned space between his eyebrows.

The second wave of soldiers crashes over their fallen comrades, their swords, pikes, and maces thrusting and swinging.

I quickly backtrack to the porch to reassess.

Jadon’s wielding Chaos, fighting three men at once.

Separi and her wife, Ridget, race to the edges of the fray, wielding their Renrian staffs.

Philia has no weapon.

I call her name and toss her the dead soldier’s broadsword. “If you see no other place,” I call out to her, “and the blade isn’t getting past the armor, aim between the eyebrows.”

She shouts, “Okay,” and glances past me. “They’re getting away.”

Clouds of dust rise behind Gileon’s horses as they race toward the sun.

That’s where we need to go.

A soldier storms toward me, sword out, his armor bright with that unknown spell. Other soldiers join, and together, they charge forward, shouting their battle cry, “For the emperor! For Supreme!” One soldier chooses Philia and catches her broadsword in his unprotected throat. Another soldier swings his sword at me and growls, “I’ll kill you, you mud—”

I draw Fury and swing, knocking him dead.

Another soldier sneaks behind me, and I have no option but to whip my hand at him. Blue waves of energy shoot from my numb fingers, launching him back, back, back, until he slams into the door of the tailor’s shop. That door splinters from the impact and knocks a lit hanging lantern onto bolts of fabric and canvas. All of it catches fire.

I throw more wind at another soldier too close for comfort, launching him high into the air. I then thrust my hands down, slamming him against the cobblestoned street. There’s a sickening crunch as bones smack armor and armor smacks rocks. No rune can protect against that. It sounds so… final .

All of this is worth the sharp tingling in my hands, feet, and even my earlobes.

The pops and crackles of fire intensify into growing booms as the flames consume more fabric at the tailor’s. A towheaded soldier races out of the smoke, heading my way.

Where’s your helmet, White Hair?

I throw Little Lava at the towheaded soldier, and she brings the heat to his throat.

Another soldier scrambles and wraps his arms around me.

Before I can react, his eyes go big and blank.

An arrow to his back.

Shit!

I peer around his big dead body to see that Philia has traded her sword for a golden bow plucked from one of the dead soldiers. She sends another arrow into the jowl of a soldier who has successfully reached me. By my count of arrows in the backs and faces of men, she’s killed…five, six… seven soldiers.

Above me, a soldier hangs midair wrapped in orange light, and another soldier hangs midair in green light—the power from the staffs of the Renrian women twists and squeezes and implodes their quarry until there’s nothing left but bloody ground meat.

With each kill, I push closer to that three thousand. I yank my dagger from the dead man’s throat and sweep my leg to trip an approaching soldier. He clatters facedown to the ground. I waste no time and drive my dagger into the unprotected backs of his knees.

He shrieks with pain and will never kneel before another emperor again.

I tug Little Lava from the soldier’s flesh and wipe her bloody blade across the fallen man’s shadowy blue cape.

Jadon dispatches a soldier who had jumped on him from behind, easily twisting from the man’s grip and delivering a death blow with Chaos. The wrapping on his hand has unraveled, weighed down by dirt and gore. I wonder at his tattoo—did he hide it because it is a symbol of his royal status? Just one more secret. His nose is bleeding, and his face drips with sweat.

“You okay?” I shout, pointing at my own nose.

“Sucker punch,” Jadon shouts. His gaze roams the destruction and dead bodies.

Smoke and flames curl to the sky, consuming the tailor’s shop. Some soldiers have fallen to the ground chopped down by arrows, multicolored beams of light, or steel blades. Blood dribbles from the dying corners of those soldiers who still have mouths.

I squint through the smoky darkness. I can no longer see the retreating horses of Wake’s guard, nor can I interpret the pulsing in my gut. Are these tugs alerting me to the amulet’s proximity or are these tugs my thundering heart exhausted from fighting?

Sudden movement draws my attention back to the battle. Another warrior stomps toward me, banging his fist against his breastplate.

If that’s where he wants it. I kick hard enough for him to stumble back, and then I kick him again. Once he’s on his knees, I grab the top of his head and his chin and twist it until he’s looking in the direction he shouldn’t. But he’s still breathing, and time is still ticking, and those horses carrying Olivia and my amulet are racing farther away from me. Before I can finish him off, a familiar shriek pulls my focus over to the inn’s porch, where a soldier rips the bow from Philia’s hands and strides away.

Her face bloody, Philia lunges to follow, but Separi pulls her out of the fray and back into the inn.

My eyes scan the landscape for the soldier who’s just taken Philia’s bow. There! By the horse troughs in front of the bakery. I march over to him and knock the back of his head with the pommel of my sword.

He drops the bow.

I snatch the weapon from the ground and call out, “Separi.” I toss the bow and watch it sail to the innkeeper.

Bam!

Something hard hits the back of my head. Stars fill my vision, and I stumble, regrouping quickly enough to swing Fury and slice the gap of unprotected flesh between a soldier’s knee and shin guards. I move on as Jadon swings and punches beside me, wielding Fury with my right hand and wind-whipping with my left. Despite the luclite armor, parts of me continue to numb as I use my wind as a weapon.

Another soldier creeps into my blind spot and swings his sword.

I duck, but not before the tip of his blade nicks my cheek. I suck at the air—the cut stings like a flame. My knees wobble. My vision narrows. I pull Warruin from my back scabbard, but the staff isn’t glowing lavender. I thrust the ouroboros at the soldier before me, but nothing happens. No time to figure out how it works, since the soldier is rushing toward me again. This time, I swing the staff, connecting it to the soldier’s face and sending him to his knees.

No use in keeping a weapon not fit for me.

I toss it over to the porch, where Separi is wiping down a cut on Philia’s cheek.

Jadon and I press on, cutting, slashing, back-to-back, just like we fought the emperor’s men in Maford, just like we fought the burnu in the glen.

More soldiers pour into Caburh. How many men did Wake bring ? And where are they coming from? The sound of their clanking armor makes my head hurt. The fiery glint of shiny armor makes me squint.

I could possibly hit three thousand today, but I doubt it. Not with my knees, legs, arms, and back…all of me softening like butter with every move I make.

Jadon swings his sword, but his moves have lost their crisp confidence. His swings are now slurred.

I can’t keep fighting. “Help me . ”

Neighing. Hooves clomping. Horses rear and come down on top of men. Dogs growl. Dogs bark. Soldiers shriek. Sparrows swoop through the smoke. Men scream as they catch their bloody eyeballs, unable to see crimson-stained beaks.

“We’re here, Lady.”

“Go west, Lady.”

“Hurry, Lady.”

My head aches so much that I can’t focus enough to push any wind through my fingers. “We need to get out of here!” I yell.

Jadon barely acknowledges me. He’s covered in blood—his and the blood of men piled at his feet. But he’s still standing.

Fatigue soaks into my bones. Don’t die here. Not in this place. Not—

Silence sweeps across this new battleground, making my skin prick with worry.

“Oh my…” Jadon’s eyes widen.

What’s caused him to —? I turn to face what he’s looking at. “Shit,” I whisper .

Cursuflies with their scales, feathers, white eyes, and crones’ hair fly over the streets of Caburh. If I didn’t have confirmation before, this is all I needed to prove that Elyn is behind this. That she’s found herself an ally in Wake, providing him an otherworldly army to finish us off.

I search the skies for Elyn. She has to be close.

One of the creatures buzzes over to me and stares me down with its white eyes. Before it unlocks its jaws, I thrust my sword into its heart, then hop back as hot-green blood bursts and spills onto the slippery road.

One cursufly down. Countless to go.

Still no sign of Elyn or her sentinels. But there are more cursuflies. So many cursuflies.

I can’t…not all of them—

And then a shriek, that mix of high and low. A darkness darker than smoke moves over the fighting, and red eyes glow in the gray.

Tazara! Battabies swarm overhead and attack the cursuflies, putting out their lights. Tazara hovers in place, capturing the attention of the boss-beast cursufly, the one with fire in her cauldron-like belly.

The giant cursufly hurls a fireball at the king of night-dwelling creatures. With a single flap of his wings, Tazara sends the fireball back, hitting the cursufly who’d sent it, and the fire— her own fire —consumes her until nothing’s left.

“Thank you, Tazara.”

“The Lady of Dawn and Dusk asked that we follow you on your journey here,” the battawhale says . “She said you would need me.”

My gratitude and relief swell like the seas, but before I can speak another word, the king of the night-dwelling creatures is gone, leaving the battabies to complete their mission.

Soldiers hack and swing their swords at cursuflies, too, cutting down these new enemies, rolling out of the way of fireballs, some not rolling quickly enough.

We need to leave this place before I fight myself over the edge of exhaustion.

“Kai!” Philia’s face is bright with urgency. “Follow Gileon,” she shouts, pointing. “Please don’t lose sight of Olivia.”

“Lady, hurry,” Separi calls. “We’ll finish this fight. Go retrieve your amulet!”

“The soldiers have gone west,” according to those sparrows with the bloody beaks.

Past the smoke, I glimpse one single glow of amber bobbing and dropping, smaller and smaller as it races into the sun. Moths, red ones, gold ones, black ones, swirl around me. Their glittery trail leads out of the town, westbound.

“We need to go,” I shout to Jadon. “ Now. Or we’ll lose her again.”

Jadon grabs the reins of two horses. Both look strong enough to carry us until the ends of the realm.

We gallop away from the smoke, racing beneath an immense blue sky that rolls on forever. I take a cleansing breath and look across to the man riding beside me, the man I thought I knew, the man who lied to me even as we depended on each other for survival, who shared my bed before the light rose in today’s sky. He’s not a blacksmith. He’s not an Ealdrehrt. He’s someone wholly different, someone I can no longer trust. Jadon Wake—the emperor’s son.

My only ally.