Before I can respond, a hand grabs my shoulder and shoves me aside, cutting off my view of Eogan.
Rolf meets a Bron sword with his own. “You trying to get yourself killed, girl? Move!”
I retreat farther behind the Faelen knights, tripping over body after fallen body toward the two brothers, twisting away beneath oncoming blades before taking out their owners with a shock of charged air and smoke. I can hear my own grunts as their weapons knick and cut me, but it’s all happening so fast and so bloody that, at some point, I forget about the pain. I forget the horror.
I forget feeling anything at all except the sickening realization that Eogan is about to die.
I edge closer as Odion lunges forward with an expression of hate. If Eogan would move I could end this insane fray.
Odion’s sword glances off his brother’s before he dips to swipe at his legs. Eogan jumps and parries, then brings his own blade down, catching Odion on the arm, then arcs his foil to land a hit on the chain mail guarding his twin’s rib.
Odion stumbles back and leaps onto the low wall. He jumps down three feet away before charging and swiping at his brother like a madman. He forces Eogan into a Bron soldier who thrusts a blade out.
My hand is up just as the sword tip bounces away midair. Eogan’s block. Without looking back, Eogan takes the man down. Then he rolls out of the way of his brother’s next strike.
But not far enough.
Eogan’s cry says the blade has connected with his shoulder.
My lash of fire tears so swift and loud, it’s a whip cutting through the wall and bursting apart the bricks beside Odion. I yank it back before it can hit Eogan and aim to bring the next one down on his brother’s head when a heaving ripple of stone nearly jolts me off my feet. It gives Odion pause and topples half the regiment.
My relief rushes up and bursts.
I spin round until I see Colin standing near the back side of the turret without a shirt on and covered in dirt and blood. He hops up on the wall by the cliff and grins at me through the growing dim, then points at the gate where more Bron soldiers are plowing through the narrow fortress entryway.
He bends down, his eyes still on me. I nod.
The courtyard begins to undulate. It takes me two strikes at the fortress’s gateway before I finally meet Colin’s efforts with a hit big enough that, together, we shatter the arch into a smoking slump of mortar and stone. It won’t keep the Bron army out long, but it’ll slow them.
I yank down two more fire bolts around the mass of soldiers, and Colin sends another small earthquake that, for a moment, seems it will unhinge the entire fortress from the cliff. The churning wave of fighting slows as both sides pause then dive for cover.
Except for Odion.
He looks straight at me and smiles in that way politicians do when they see something they want.
I whip an enormous hailstone at his face, but he ducks in lunging at Eogan.
A trembling thread erupts along the ground and the next thing I know, there’s an explosion of rock and dust directly behind Odion. I look down to discover Colin crouched beside me. He glances up and winks. “Hey.”
“You’re alive.”
“’Course. Just took a bit to deal with the guards inside. You seen Breck?”
I shake my head as Odion’s voice rises. “Looks like you’ve found yourself some unique ones, big brother. Seems you forgot to tell them their abilities won’t work on—”
Eogan stabs his twin in the shoulder and sends him toppling backward over Colin’s open fissure behind him.
Odion fumbles at the air. Sways. Slashes. Before jumping over it to scramble back with his disoriented men.
“Get King Sedric and take him round the turrets!” Eogan yells.
The three nearest knights yank the turret door open and usher the king and Princess Rasha out. When they emerge, even from where I’m standing it’s clear the king’s only been kept inside by physical force. His gaze is deadly as it sweeps over the bodies, the Bron men, the fallen Faelen knights. Over the blood covering it all like a wretched crimson blanket.
The atmosphere slows.
Like the very air itself has its breath hinged. Waiting on the king.
Waiting on the dead . . .
For a moment, the only sound is that of the droning airships as Princess Rasha’s grieving eyes find mine.
“Your Highness, stop!” a cold voice rings out.
Beside me, Colin gasps.
I glance over at the speaker and watch Breck appear through the smoke, her wrists bound. And behind her, Adora.
Breck stumbles, and Colin starts for her.
I grab his arm just as Adora swerves her eerie smile our direction. She’s got a knife at Breck’s neck.
“King Sedric,” our owner’s shrill voice calls. “You’ll tell your men to step away from you, or I’ll slit this poor girl’s throat.”
She steps closer and even in the midst of battle, the insane woman’s makeup is perfect, as are her clothes. Only her hair appears to have caught fire at some point.
She laughs.