Wren climbed up. “Don’t forget about the trip back.”
Khuen’s arms cinched around her waist. “Maybe I’ll hang out here. Place looks pretty fancy. It could be comfortable enough.”
“If you enjoy the company of dead corpses,” Merrin said darkly.
“They’re still probably more fun than the two of you,” Khuen said—then let out a shriek as Merrin launched them from the cliff edge.
They flew low and fast, coming at the palace from an angle so they’d only be seen by the closest two guards. Mist swirled. Cold wind lashed Wren’s cheeks.
“Khuen!” she yelled. “Get ready!”
Despite his trembling, the boy let go, leaning into her to draw his bow and notch an arrow as Wren reached around, securing him to her with one hand. Her other gripped a fistful of Merrin’s feathers. The tip of Khuen’s arrow hovered by her ear, bobbing with each beat of Merrin’s powerful wings.
The guards hadn’t spotted them yet. As they came into their shadow, Merrin lifted his nose. They shot up with astonishing speed, right beneath the guards, until they were so close Wren could see the white paint of their feathers and the tarnished silver of their armor.
Khuen fired.
The first shot hit true, right between the joints of the demon’s armor. She tumbled from the sky with a cry. The second guard—a kestrel-woman—banked in time to avoid a clean shot, though Khuen’s arrow caught her in her right arm.
“Commander!” she screeched as she listed, dropping into a messy landing on one of the palace’s platforms.
Commander. Did that mean Commander Teoh was nearby? Wren had been hoping the inimitable hawk demon, leader of the White Wing’s army, wouldn’t be here. But sure enough, as Merrin flew on, Khuen taking down two more guards, a large figure appeared past one of the palace’s towers.
Wren recognized her at once. Trailed by a pair of smaller demons, the Commander flew with ferocity, zeroing in on them without hesitation. The setting sunlight caught the tip of her qiang.
She raised it, aiming straight for Merrin.
He dove, anticipating her attack. But there was no whistle of a spear cutting the air. No flash of silver. Commander Teoh had feinted—and in doing so, pushed them right into a trio of new guards who’d appeared below, bursting from a thick squall of mist.
Khuen’s yell was earsplitting as Merrin tucked his wings to roll past them. As they dropped, they brushed so close to one of the guards Wren felt a taloned hand scrape her robes. She’d have been pulled straight off Merrin’s back were it not for Khuen’s viselike grip—even if it was only an accidental side effect of his terror.
Merrin flattened out. He sped lightning fast through the icy air, all six birds in pursuit. Two were right upon them, jostling at their sides. Still gripping Khuen with one arm, Wren clamped her legs tighter and let go of Merrin’s feathers to draw a sword. She lanced out in one powerful slice. With a rattling scream, the guard fell from the sky.
“Khuen!” Wren roared. “Shoot!”
For a moment, it seemed like the petrified boy had finally reached his limits. Then he was drawing a fresh arrow, twisting around.
A buzzard demon plummeted in a tangle of limp wings. There was another burst of red as Khuen’s following arrow met its mark.
Now there were only two guards and Commander Teoh left.
As Merrin sped through the air, following a wide loop around the palace, the Commander yelled, “SOUND THE ALARM!”
One of the guards flanking her peeled away—only to plunge a second later, crumpling around the feathered tip of Khuen’s arrow.
“Wren!” Merrin shouted.
He jerked his head. She followed his movement and saw the veranda they’d picked for their landing spot.
“Should I—”
“Yes!”
He veered so steeply poor Khuen let out another wail. Wren felt him slip. She wrenched her left arm back even farther, pinning him to her, muscles straining to keep them both in place. The pain from her old injury was a starburst, radiating from her hips, and she growled, forcing back the nausea it wrought.
Merrin canted. Khuen’s bow cracked into Wren’s cheekbone. An arrow tumbled from his grip. But they were almost there now, the terrace rushing closer, its white marble sparkling as the sun dipped behind the line of mountains—
“Argh!”
Khuen slipped from Wren’s grasp. A second later she was thrown from Merrin’s back as they landed heavily, tumbling across the polished tiles.
The world whirled by in flashes of white and sunset gold. Wren tried to curl into a ball, but the momentum was too great. All she could do was brace herself against the pain until finally she was sliding slower, slower…
She bounced to her feet. Merrin was clambering to his own a few meters away. Wren scanned the veranda for Khuen.
Before she could find him, Commander Teoh and the remaining guard—a kite demon, sharp-eyed and sleek—landed in front of her.
Wren drew her second blade and charged.
The Commander came at her first, but Wren ducked, using the slippery surface of the tiles to skid under her outstretched arm. She arced one sword across the throat of the kite guard before she even had a chance to draw her own. Blood sprayed, hot and stinking. At the same time, Wren thrust her second blade behind her, feeling the satisfying snick as it caught the Commander’s armor.
She swirled. Commander Teoh backed up, spear pointed like an accusatory finger. Out the corner of her eye, Wren saw more guards running onto the terrace. Merrin met them. The clash of weapons rent the air.
“I don’t want to kill you, Commander,” Wren said, panting for breath.
The hawk-woman’s black eyes flashed. “I am loyal to Lady Qanna, Wren Hanno. I will follow her to my grave.”
“Luckily for you, then, it’s not far.”
The voice that spoke wasn’t Wren’s. It took her—and the Commander—a moment to notice the arrow tip protruding from her throat.
The Commander’s face went slack. She reached a talon to her neck, where liquid red gushed, vivid against the white clan paint of her feathers. Blood gurgled out from her beak. With a soft sigh, she slumped to her knees and fell to the marble tiles.
A garnet pool crept out around her head, a macabre halo.
Khuen knelt to prize the arrow from her neck. Then he was off, joining Merrin to face the new guards.
Wren stepped forward to make the sky salute over Commander Teoh’s body. She stared down at the bird-woman’s lifeless form. Nearby lay the kite guard’s body, whose opened throat looked like a gory smile. Here it was. The first blood she’d spilled since the battle in Jana. After a month and a half of desiring it, yearning for it—the slice of her blade, the give of demon flesh—after being so desperate to do something that’d help her feel useful and powerful again, she was no longer cooped up in the Jade Fort with only her failure and guilt for company. She waited for the surge of strength and rightness the dance of weapons usually brought.
Instead, something deep within her seethed, dark and disgusted, and just so, so tired.