Training
This has been a disaster.
But somehow, Tarquin is injured, too. He’s lying on the floor, groaning,
blood dripping from his lip.
I turn to see Raphael standing above us both. “That wasn’t going well.”
I rasp, “It really wasn’t.”
Raphael’s frigid gaze slides to Tarquin. Sighing, he slides his hands into
his pockets. “If you kill one of our only two Sentinels, Pendragon, I will
end your life.” He flashes a dark smile. “And I don’t give a fuck who your
great-grandmother was.”
“You’d better give a fuck, demi-Fey.” Tarquin dabs at his bloody lip.
“And how does this mongrel expect to function out in the field if she can’t
even take a bit of training?”
“Mate, mate,” Horatio brays. “Why is she even here?”
“It’s her first day of training,” says Raphael coolly. “Murdering
someone isn’t education.”
“Raphael.” Viviane’s sharp voice echoes in the room.
Everyone has stopped practicing, and they are all staring at Raphael,
Tarquin, and me. Looks like we’ve put on quite the show.
I hate being the center of attention.
“This is my class,” Viviane says. “And I think I can manage on my
own.”
“It didn’t look like it.” Raphael’s pale eyes glint. “It looked as if we
were about to lose one of our Sentinels.”
Viviane folds her arms calmly. “I saw what happened, and it looked
fine. I didn’t see any good reason to interfere with her training. Nia was
learning a valuable lesson.”
“Viviane, if you suddenly find yourself with the rare skill that Nia
possesses, then you can be a bit more careless with her welfare.”
Viviane narrows her eyes at him. “Get out,” she says through clenched
teeth.
What just happened
Gasping, I realize not everyone in the crowd is running away. Not all of them are afraid, or even confused by the outburst of violence. They move differently, with purpose, motive, a mission. Black pistols gleam, flashing as they dig into a guard’s back or stomach. Knives glint in the growing dark. The screams of fear become screams of pain. Bodies fall, slumping against the tile of the square.
I remember the riots in Summerton. Reds hunted down and tortured. A mob turning on the weakest among them. It was disorganized, chaotic, without any order. This is the opposite. What looks like wild panic is the careful work of a few dozen assassins in a crowd of hundreds. With a grin, I realize they all have something in common. As the hysteria grows, each one dons a red scarf.
The Scarlet Guard is here.
Cal, Kilorn, Farley, Cameron, Bree, Tramy, the Colonel.
They’re here.
With everything I have, I butt my head back and crack my skull against Clover’s nose. She howls, and silver blood spurts down her face. In an instant her grip on me breaks, leaving only Kitten. I drive an elbow into her gut, hoping to throw her off. She lets go of my shoulder, only to wrap her arm around my neck and squeeze.
I twist, trying to get enough room to bend my neck and bite. No chance. She increases the pressure, threatening to crush my windpipe. My vision spots, and I feel myself being pulled backward. Away from the Treasury, Maven, his Sentinels. Through the lethal crowd. I trip backward as we reach the steps. I kick weakly, trying to catch on to anything. The Security officers dodge my poor efforts. Some drop to their knees, guns raised, covering the retreat. Clover looms over me, the bottom half of her face painted with mirrored blood.
“Double back through Whitefire. We have to keep
Reklam
He will let the world burn for her
With a nod, I say, “I need to go tell Auren. I left her sleeping earlier.
She’ll want to be in the mender’s wing while Hojat works on Rissa.”
Ryatt comes with me back inside the castle, my brow furrowed as we
head upstairs. “You don’t think the guard did it, do you?” he asks quietly so
that none of the staff hears.
“No, I don’t.”
I’m not sure why, but I have a bad feeling in my gut.
“I don’t either. Something just isn’t sitting right.” We’re quiet until we
reach Ryatt’s floor. “I’m going to dip in my room so I can change out of
Fake Rip,” he says as we split off. “I’ll meet you down in the mender’s
wing.”
With a nod, I turn and go up another flight of stairs, and then cut
down the hall to my rooms where I let myself in. Yet when I make it into
the bedroom, I find the bed empty. With a churning feeling of unease, I
scoop up her cut ribbon from the bedside table and put it in my pocket. In
the closet, I see the rumpled remains of the ruby dress she was wearing
earlier. I see my black and brown clothes now shiny gold.
And I know.
Right then. That churning feeling in my gut pushes at me, nauseates
me. The glint of my clothes makes me immediately think of that glint I
thought I saw on the grass outside in the gardens. A thought I dismissed too
quickly.
My heart fucking bulges like it’s going to explode, surging with fear
and fury.
I check the bathroom. The front sitting room. The private room where
we take our meals. The library. The kitchens. The roof. And when I’m up
there, with the wind whipping at my face, I’m panting and pounding and
fucking panicked. Because she’s not here. She’s not fucking here.
“Sire?”
I spin around to find Marcoul behind me along with several other
Who is afraid of the little golden girl? Well we should be
“If I can’t have her, no one can.” Midas’s cold,
calculating voice makes my heart drop. Because I can hear
the truth binding his words. He would rather kill me than
let me leave. He’s betting on both of our lives that Slade
won’t risk it, and he bet right.
“Go now, Ravinger. You have thirty seconds, or I will
kill her.”
The Wrath shift on their feet. Fake Rip looks at me,
fury flickering over his face.
But Slade’s gaze is locked on me. “Use your ribbons,”
he urges, and a choked sob curdles from my cinched
throat.
“I can’t.”
Midas pulls my body closer, his hold banded around
my waist so hard that it’s a struggle to breathe, especially
as he chuckles against me. “Oh, she didn’t tell you? She
lost that privilege.”
Slade’s eyes drop when Midas motions to my left hand
where the ribbon is still tied loosely around my limb.
Something like appalled torment flushes over Slade’s
face as his eyes flash from my ribbon and back to my face.
“Auren...”
Tears that feel like fire burn down my cheeks, and my
chest expands with the cry of rumbling rage that builds like
a storm.
“She’s helpless and completely at my mercy, and she
will die at my hand if you force it.”
My anger lifts up her head from the billowing clouds,
the word helpless echoing inside of them, clinking with
electric frenzy.
So what happens know
One moment, everyone is drinking and cheering, but
then, the goblet slips from Niven’s hand and crashes to the
ground.
The people nearest him startle, but it becomes
apparent very quickly that there’s more wrong than just a
dropped cup.
Prince Niven locks his hands around his throat, eyes
gone wide in fear, just as someone in the crowd screams.
The prince stumbles, and purple-cloaked Ranhold
guards come rushing forward. With pure panic, his fingers
claw down his neck—a neck that’s now lined with black
veins spreading up toward his cheeks.
“Oh no...” My whisper is swallowed up by the eruption
of shouts from below, as dark froth starts to bubble out
from the young prince’s lips.
“Poison! The prince has been poisoned!” someone
screeches.
I watch in horror as the prince falls to his knees too
quick for the guards to catch him.
“Mender! Where’s the royal mender?” Midas booms
out.
A gray-haired man in purple robes surges forward and
falls to his knees in front of the prince, a red band tied
around his arm. From up here, I have the perfect vantage
point to see the mender’s hands skate shakily over Niven’s
chest, head tilted against his mouth.
Midas pushes past his own guards to kneel beside the
mender too. Queen Kaila hangs back, her brother standing
in front of her like a shield, while more men stand behind
her.
Reklam
Reklam