He let Sebek cry. The Fhrey dropped to his knees, and he wept over the broken blades. Tesh gave him a full minute before severing his head from his neck.
* * *
—
To Persephone’s surprise and relief, neither Moya nor Grygor were dead. Both got back to their feet, merely knocked down by a strong wind. Shock gave way to puzzlement.
Why are they still alive?
The answer was written all over Moya. After the first battle, she had painted runes on everything she had. But Grygor didn’t have any markings, and he didn’t wear armor. The Miralyith should have killed the giant at least. But since they couldn’t always tell who wore the Orinfar and who didn’t, he likely always attacked with air.
Grygor was up again. Recognizing the greatest threat and forsaking all others, he launched himself at the bald figure.
The Miralyith either noticed Grygor didn’t have armor, or the fear of a rampaging giant had caused the Fhrey to act out of reflex. In any case, his defense wasn’t another blast of air.
A brilliant white light struck the giant.
“Grygor!” Padera yelled. Her voice was louder than Persephone thought possible.
The giant died in an instant.
The Miralyith died a half-second later as Moya, having risen to a knee, held Audrey sideways and launched two arrows before Grygor hit the floor. The first entered the Miralyith’s throat; the second got him in the eye.
“In the name of Fane Lothian”—Persephone heard the shout from the other room—“face your punishment, Nyphron, son of Zephyron!”
Nyphron pushed Bergin through the threshold, and then he and Tekchin pulled a bleeding Eres into Persephone’s bedchamber. This would be their final stand.
Moya leapt up on the bed and resumed firing arrows, but Persephone noticed she was down to only the ones in her hands. Tegan, Bergin, and a blood-covered Harkon took positions around the bed where Brin and Persephone clutched swords and Padera prayed to Mari, rubbing a small polished-stone carving of their god.
Eres got back to his feet and made great use of his spear’s long reach. For a time, he forced the fane’s invaders to stay back where they were easy targets for Moya’s bow. She slew four but had only three arrows left.
Maybe because they finally realized the Galantians weren’t willing to kill fellow Fhrey, six invaders rushed forward, forcing their way into the bedroom. Harkon threw himself forward, swinging. A bronze sword entered his chest, and he fell. Bergin killed a Fhrey that Tekchin had distracted with a slash across the face. Moya killed another. Then Bergin went down; Persephone didn’t even see the blow that killed him.
Nyphron, Tekchin, Eres, and Tegan were all that remained between the fane’s Fhrey and the bed, and the other Fhrey seemed to know that the Galantians were harmless.
A spear slammed into the headboard five inches from Persephone’s head, and she screamed. Together, Padera and Brin jerked the spear free, and the old woman took it, aiming the point in defense of the bed.
Four more Fhrey pushed into the room, and Tekchin took a blade thrust to his chest. The stroke landed under his breastplate, and he cried out. Moya’s howl was even louder.
“No!” She straddled Persephone and fired her last two arrows one after another into the chests of the newcomers. Each fell, but they were instantly replaced.
Brin pulled Moya down to the mattress as another spear flew. Just missing her, the weapon sparked off the stonework.
“A curse on you, Lothian,” Nyphron shouted. “A curse on you and your entire Tetlin house!”
Brin raised her dagger as more Fhrey rushed into the bedroom. Persephone gritted her teeth against the pain and raised her blade. She muttered a prayer to Mari.
That’s when the roof came off the Kype.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The Light on Shining Armor
The way Roan described it—the rising sun, the bridge, the beating of her heart—I wish I could have seen it. I wish everyone could have. It was what fairy tales are made of.
—THE BOOK OF BRIN
Roan had watched the entire thing through a wash of tears. She didn’t mean to, not the whole thing. She had planned to close her eyes before Suri killed him. Didn’t seem right to watch that part, but it had happened so fast.
Suri had asked Raithe to lie down. She picked up the sword and Roan expected she would cut off his head, or raise it up and stab him in the chest, maybe cut his throat. Instead, she had laid the sword on his chest. Then she stroked his forehead, whispered something, leaned over, and kissed him on the brow.