Storm Siren

I’m saved from commenting by a sudden knock followed by Sir James’s entry with a cold meal. He sets it on the bed, then departs, and Colin and I set upon it like wolves.

 

It’s a good twenty minutes after we’ve finished and are trying—and failing—to rest when I first notice the commotion outside. Muted yelling. Metal clashing. Colin and I head to the window, but we can’t see into the courtyard from this angle, so we stand there straining our ears to make sense of what seems to be the beginnings of a fight.

 

Shivers ripple up my spine. The clouds crackle overhead.

 

The disturbance continues, growing louder with men running and armor tinning, and then the noise has spread inside—into the stairwell. When the next knock hits our door, Colin is halfway across the room by the time it opens.

 

Except it’s not Sir James.

 

“Breck?” Colin stalls. “What’re you doing here? You’re suppose’ to keep hidden and safe!”

 

“How’d you get in here?” is what I want to know. “And where’s the guard?”

 

Breck tips up her sightless gaze. “I don’t know, but Adora’s just showed up. Where’s the king?”

 

Adora has what?

 

“What do you mean Adora’s here?” Colin says. “She’s a traitor! That’s why she sent us!”

 

Breck ignores him, demanding again, “Where’s the king?” And this time there’s an annoyance to her tone.

 

She tugs a chunk of hair behind her ear.

 

 

 

I stare at her blank eyes. “How’d you get inside the Keep? How’d you find us?”

 

She says nothing. Just turns on her heel and exits the room as fast as she came.

 

We scramble after her only to hear the door lock as we reach it.

 

“What in hulls?” Colin shouts. “Breck, what’s going on?”

 

From beyond the door there’s a yell followed by a choking sound, and Colin is immediately clawing the wood frame. “Breck! Breck!”

 

“Here, watch out.” I push him back and, tugging a lightning charge through the window, use my hand to slam into the door. It takes three tries before the bolted thing flies open in a rush of smoke, but when we step out, Breck is gone, along with Sir James who was stationed there.

 

In his place is a puddle of blood with smudged footprints leading down the hall.

 

“Come on.” I grab Colin and half-run, half-limp for the king’s room.

 

A knight is laid out on the floor. More blood. He moans. His face and body have taken a beating. “Where’s the king? Where’s Breck?” I ask, as Colin helps him sit up against the bed. He doesn’t talk. Just points out the door.

 

Colin and I run.

 

When we reach the split in the passage at the bottom of the stairs, I don’t even pause before veering up the adjacent stairwell. “You search the room we entered through, I’ll check the terrace.”

 

“Find her, Nym!”

 

When I reach the top of the steps, the door’s ajar. I fling it open and lunge onto an empty terrace, scarcely taking in the Bron soldiers and commotion in the courtyard below in my haste to cross the walkway leading to the other turret. When I do, there’s another Faelen knight strewn awkwardly across the stone floor. He’s staring up at me with a graying expression and a knife in his chest. Beside him, a Bron guard is crumpled facedown in a puddle of blood. What in kracken is happening?

 

I bend over the Faelen man, but he pushes me away, murmuring, “Get to the room below.”

 

Then his head lags.

 

His arm drops to his side.

 

I let out a choked cry and take the spiraling steps two at a time.

 

At the bottom, I burst through the door only to be jerked to a stop by a rough arm and a sword at my throat.

 

I swear my heart fails and restarts itself twice before Rolf releases me and shifts aside to check the passage and seal the door.

 

“Nym?”

 

In the tapestry-lined room stand seven more knights, Princess Rasha with her strange reddish eyes, and King Sedric.

 

And behind them, Eogan.

 

The real Eogan. Black skin and emerald eyes. Forest of jagged hair beneath his hooded cloak. His gaze is pained, but not as bitter as Odion’s. Nor as blurry as Myles’s.

 

It’s unreadable though.

 

I glance away before my heart dissolves into a puddle of ash.

 

“Where’s the boy, Colin?” King Sedric demands.

 

Oh hulls. I turn back to yank the door open, but Rolf stops me. “No one leaves or enters this room now. The king’s been betrayed.”

 

 

 

Is he dense? Of course he’s been betrayed. “By Adora, and she’s here!”

 

“By King Odion.” Princess Rasha’s airy voice quivers and floats as she steps forward. “It’s why Eogan and I came. As soon as he heard King Sedric was here, he knew. And as soon as I heard Adora tell Lady Isobel her plans to follow Eogan, I raced to warn him.” She smiles at me. Sad, regretful. “We made it down the cliff minutes ago, just before Adora rode through the gate swearing allegiance to Odion. He means to kill King Sedric, but we believe she intends to kill them both.”

 

“My brother would never settle through a treaty something he can take by force,” Eogan mutters. “And in this case, I’m positive he means to do so, Your Majesty.”

 

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