30. Raven

THIRTY

RAVEN

Ican feel every pair of eyes on me as my gaze remains fixed on Burton’s. His Erikel fur cloak and scar down his cheek is pissing me off now. Everything that continues to transpire at the hands of this man is too much, too far, and I’m damn well over it.

“You told me he was dead,” my father bites, and I spy him in my peripheral vision, wagging a finger at Sebastian.

“He was. It seems someone took pity on him,” Burton sneers, eyes glaring daggers at me.

He’s too fucking childish and easily disgruntled to lead a war and cause a revolution or whatever the fuck this is. I can deal with him in a minute, but first, I need my father’s other hand to move.

“Get your hands off him,” I snap, my eyes flicking between my father and Brax, who remains on his knees, head dipped as he’s restrained by some kind of magic at my father’s hands. My father’s eyes meet mine, but they’re void of any significant presence, a reminder that this man is at the command of someone else, and the reality pisses me off even more. “I said, get. Your. Hands. Off. Him.”

My magic vibrates through my veins, ready to take action in whatever way necessary to protect my grumpy gargoyle. When he still doesn’t listen, I take a step toward him, but before I can attack, my hand grips the pendant around my neck.

I expect to feel some kind of stronger attack at my fingertips, like Brax’s gargoyle strength or Zane’s fire, but to my surprise, it’s Lyra’s magic that coils around my hand as I press my palm against Abel’s chest.

He startles at the contact, his hold on Brax shifting. I sense my man move, but I don’t turn to look. I can’t. My eyes are locked on my father’s as I physically watch his clouded vision disappear. It seems the tendrils of Lyra’s magic reveal your truth just as much as the truth around you. He falls to his knees before I can catch him, but Sebastian swiftly moves him to the side so nothing stands between me and Burton.

I crack my neck, releasing the necklace from my grasp as I glare at the fucker who has caused so much damage.

“What are you doing? Why is everyone here?”

My questions go ignored as he shakes his head at me. “I’m the one who asks the questions around here.” I roll my eyes. I really should be more prepared for his bullshit by now, but he’s not as easy to predict as it seems. “And you will address me appropriately,” he adds, peering down his nose at me as a sneer spreads across his lips.

Fucker.

If that’s the game he wants to play, then I’m more than willing to pretend to follow his lead. It will make bringing him down that much sweeter. “Oh, great one,” I say regally, dramatically bowing as I throw my arms out wide. His sneer sways into a triumphant grin as I stand back at full height. “What is everyone doing here?” I repeat, anger and adrenaline consuming me.

“Waiting for your return, of course,” he retorts, like it really is as simple as that.

Of course he was watching us; I was foolish to believe he wasn’t. He’s sly, conniving, and the biggest fucking snake I’ve come across. And that’s saying something after surviving Shadowmoor. But that feels like a sliver of Heaven in comparison to all of the darkness I’ve endured at Silvercrest Academy.

I’m still rolling my thoughts around in my head when he turns to address the gathered students who look confused as fuck in their seats surrounding the Gauntlet podium. Fear is visible on paler faces with every second that ticks by, while some flex their muscles, getting ready for battle.

“The time for war is now. The time for strengthening our community is here. The time to reveal the final steps in our plan has come,” Burton announces, arms flung wide as he tries to rally the students.

I’m pretty sure it’s not our plan, more his, but I manage to keep my mouth shut. Semantics aren’t what’s needed right now. It’s action, and I get the feeling that the beginning of the end is upon us.

A flash of gold catches my attention, trudging down the steps as he pulls along a man with chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles. The clunking of the golden warrior’s armor on the stone steps pulls everyone’s attention a moment later, sending a wave of murmurs around the space.

“Who is that?” Sebastian asks, standing to my left with our father at his side.

I squint for a moment, taking in the man, and despite his current state, I know exactly who it is.

“It’s Monarch Dutton. The man I revived,” I mutter, my teeth clenching as the memory of that day comes to the forefront of my mind. The day Creed was taken to attack the village, he instead had his memory tampered with by his father. It’s a relief to know he was kept safe now, but at the time, it was another layer of strain we really didn’t fucking need.

“He doesn’t look to be in the best shape,” Eldon states, and I can’t deny the truth in his words.

“May I present to you, Monarch Dutton, the head of the Elevin army,” Burton declares, swinging a hand in his direction. “It makes sense for us to use the realm’s own army against them, don’t you agree?” he adds, earning a cheer from the Shadowgrim students, but there are a few Silvercrest Academy pupils joining in too.

I survey the crowd, and it takes a few moments, but I find who I’m looking for. Four rows back, right at the end, beside the guy who has been on my radar, is Leila. I can see her eyebrows practically touching her hairline from here as she continues to skim her eyes over everyone. It’s not lost on me that her father isn’t here yet, but it’s more the smirk on Grave’s face that holds me captive.

I’m going to fucking kill him for whatever connection he has to this.

Shaking my head, I turn my attention back to Burton. “None of this makes sense. You know that, right? Not a single ounce of it,” I bite, fingers flexing at my side as he stares me down.

“That’s because you’re a dumb, foolish girl with only one use. It’s no surprise that things here don’t make sense to you.” His lip lifts with a sneer and I want to wipe it from his face with my fist, but it would take too long to cut the distance between us, so I opt to use words instead.

“What doesn’t make sense to me is why you’re still in that skin,” I holler, loud enough to garner everyone’s attention, but of course, no one understands what I mean.

His sneer turns into a deathly glare before he shakes his head and waves his hand dismissively at me. “You’re talking nonsense again, Miss Hendrix. Do I need to remind you what I’m capable of if you don’t fall in line?” he threatens, and I grin. This, I can handle. The sly shit is what fucks with my head, but threatening me in any way, shape, or form, including those I love, is something I know how to react to and handle.

“I think we’re beyond that now, don’t you?” I taunt back, taking a small step toward him, and I immediately feel my men shift around me. I know they’ll be wanting to protect me, shield me from this man and his fucked up shit, but it’s too late for all of that, and I think we all know it.

“I know your weak spots,” he pushes, and I laugh. A wholehearted chuckle straight from my stomach.

“I know you are Burton.” Gasps echo around the Gauntlet at my admission, but uncertainty around the truth of my words only thickens.

“How educated of you, but whatever you think you know, however you think you see this going, you’re wrong. I’m going to break down how it’s actually going to happen.” He takes two measured steps toward me, fingers splayed in the air as he points to each one. “You will fall in line. You will play the perfect puppet. You will stand at my side as we take down the realm. Or… I will start to kill off your men.”

The excitement at that thought flashes with wonder in his eyes, but I don’t falter under his intense stare.

“What then? Once you’ve done that, you’ll have lost all of your leverage,” I retort, still goading him, and I’m pretty pleased with myself when I watch his face turn red, along with his telltale sneer scrunching his face.

“Warrior,” he bellows, waving his hand for the golden warrior to approach him without actually turning to find where he is.

The warrior pauses for a moment, his gaze flicking to Creed’s before he releases his hold on Monarch Dutton and begins to approach. The second the man in the golden armor is on the platform with the rest of us, Burton turns to us with a twisted smile, and I know what his next words will be before he even says them.

“I want you to kill… him.”

I’m not shocked to find his finger aimed in Creed’s direction, but the finality of it still makes my heart skip a beat with panic.

Creed’s father looks torn, glancing from Burton to his son and back twice before he reluctantly nods and slowly heads our way. We knew this would happen. If anything, we half-banked on it, but that doesn’t make it any easier from this point. It just signifies the point of no return.

Golden metal-clad fingers reach for the hilt of the same colored sword at the warrior’s waist. His onyx eyes are fixated on matching ones as he gets closer and closer. I don’t move, keeping my feet rooted to the spot, as Creed shifts enough to be two steps ahead of me.

I instantly feel what it’s like to be in their position, anger and distress clouding my thoughts as I desperately hold myself back from reacting.

The sword is half unsheathed when the movement is halted, and he jerks when the weapon tumbles from his grasp, clattering to the floor with an overwhelming echo.

“Kill him!” Burton yells as the golden warrior stares down at the weapon before peering back at his son. I follow his line of sight, but the next time I glance down at the shimmering weapon, it’s nowhere to be seen. “Where is it?” Burton cries out, clearly searching for the missing blade, but the uncertainty doesn’t last long as the weapon appears a moment later in Zane’s grasp, at Creed’s side.

My heart races as I look at the triumphant grin on Zane’s face as he hands the sword off to Creed, but the look of elation doesn’t travel to him as well. He knows what he must do.

Creed takes a step forward at the same time as his father does, eliminating most of the distance between them in one swift second, and it’s instinctive for me to follow suit, but I startle when I feel an arm band around my waist, halting me from going any further.

Glaring over my shoulder, I’m surprised to find it’s my father. “Don’t you dare,” I hiss, prepared to beat the hell out of him if necessary, but he relents, his eyebrows furrowed as he relaxes his hold.

I take another step toward Creed, but he throws his left arm out, warning me not to go any further without taking his eyes off the sword. He twirls it in his hand, the onyx gem standing tall and proud in the handle.

“Allow me,” Brax grunts, moving to Creed’s other side. Everything happens so fast, the world seeming to slow around us as my gargoyle grabs the blade in his hand and snaps it in two.

The murmurs around the room grow louder, nobody is willing to take action in any way until Burton fucking says so, and it makes me want to get this over and done with even quicker. The strength of Brax alone doesn’t release the onyx stone as he intended, but Eldon is right beside him in a flash, pressing a heated hand to the metal, and a moment later, it pops free and Creed catches it before it hits the ground.

I can hear Burton still yelling in the background, his voice getting angrier with every syllable, but none of it registers as I watch Creed stare his father down. My heart aches, my limbs pleading to take a step toward my love and cradle him from the storm that’s coming. But this is it. This is exactly what his father said.

A look passes between two sets of onyx eyes as the golden warrior exhales slowly, his arms hanging loose at his sides. “I love you, Creed. Do it, son. Do it now.”

The onyx stone twirls through Creed’s fingers for a split second before he takes the command. He launches it at his father, the stone aimed at his head, and as the gem touches the warrior’s forehead, he collapses to his knees in pain.

My chest clenches, pain etching its way through my veins as members of the crowd scream, watching as a black cloud billows from the connection between stone and armor, swelling outward in an ominous, twisting explosion of darkness that surrounds the golden warrior, confining him within its inky shadow, until it suddenly collapses in on itself, leaving nothing in its wake.

Not even a sliver of golden armor.

Creed stares down at the empty spot, eyes wide as the world swirls in turmoil around him. The cries from the crowd grow louder and I tilt my face to look at them. Hysteria is real, and I can’t help but laugh. Burton truly believes he’s going to take these people to war. What a fucking fool.

“You won’t get away with this. Where is he? Tell me where he is right now. Bring him back,” he snaps, not actually giving anyone a chance to respond to the shit he’s spouting.

At least he can’t ask me to heal him if he’s not here. Not that I wouldn’t if that’s what Creed wanted and needed, but after the conversation he had with his father at our front door the other day, we know this is a blessing for him more than anything. It’s the only way he was ever going to truly have freedom from the shackles holding him in place, and my heart bleeds for the honorable-yet-pained decision he had to make.

Zane wraps his arm around his friend, pulling him back in line with the rest of us when a fresh shadow falls over the entryway into the Gauntlet.

I don’t recognize the man, or the men and women that follow after him, and it makes my stomach clench to see Grave step out onto the staircase with his arms open wide. The two embrace before the new arrival turns his attention to my father.

“Fall in line, Abel. Bring your children with you or face the consequences.” Leila gapes at Grave, horror coating her vision, but I turn my attention to my father. When my eyes lock with his, he remains clear-minded, and I hope like hell that it’s enough to keep him out of their grasp. “If you won’t take the warning from Erikel, then take it from The Monarchy,” he adds, his voice thundering around the space, and I spy a few students shudder in their seats.

Burton claps his hands together, grinning at me with joy in his eyes like he still believes he has the upper hand. “You’ve taken down my golden warrior, but I have the Amayans, and I believe you’ve already met my army of Drakes.”

My heart stills as their shadows come into view first, moments before claws appear and they begin to ascend the staircase together. One by one, the Drakes surround the podium where we stand, their teeth bared in our direction, and my stomach sinks.

Motherfuckers.