Another star came hurtling at her. The metallic clash of it meeting her sword made her teeth shiver.
She was almost at the northernmost part of the campsite now. Smoke billowed into the sky. Eve leaped over bodies as Wren took in the scene: demon hordes sweeping through burning shelters; refugees fleeing on foot. She marked the amethyst-and-bronze-tipped flag of Marazi’s most prominent clan, the Orchids. Lord Anjiri was its leader and the ward of the city—and thus the demon who’d ordered this attack.
The demon Wren would need to take down if she was to stop it.
Another throwing star came at her. She moved too slow. It sliced her cheek, spilling blood—but she’d finally spotted her attacker. Wren pulled Eve around and stormed right for him.
The ape soldier rode a black bear. The creature was wild, frothing at the mouth. As it held its position, the demon put away his stars and drew a pair of spiked wheel-like rings the size of Wren’s face: feng huo lun. He brandished them with a grin, still not moving, though they were only moments from colliding—
Wren swerved at the last second.
The ape demon jumped.
He slashed out as he flew past. Wren parried his attack, then pulled Eve around to face him again—only to find his war-bear rearing up.
It struck out with inches-long claws. Eve whinnied and stumbled back, almost pitching Wren off. She clung on, gripping her legs tight.
The ape soldier leaped again.
Wren flipped her blade up as a shield. As he crashed into her, both of them tussling on Eve’s back, she drew her second sword and brought it around in a flashing arc of silver.
It dug a line up the soldier’s side from hip to ear. Blood gushed over Wren in a torrent. She shoved the demon off her, then spat out blood and spurred Eve into movement before they were caught by the riderless bear as it thrashed in a rage.
Flames beat on all sides. The haphazard manner in which the refugee settlement had grown slowed the Marazi’s soldiers in their attack, funneling them down narrow pathways between burning tents. It worked in Wren’s favor. She followed each channel and cut down soldier after soldier, adding to the corpses spread-eagled on the blood-slick grass. Time passed not in seconds but in bodies. War was a rhythm, and Wren had found hers.
Then: hoof-beats. Familiar cries.
A wave of cobalt-robed riders interspersed with Amala yellow and splashes of other clans’ colors rolled in across the plains. Flying above, the pearlescent armor of the White Wing loyalists reflected the firelight.
Commander Chang hollered something above the tumult. It was the first time Wren had been glad to see him. He charged into view on a black stallion. He wore an iron face mask, its exaggerated face twisted in a grimace. Lova was right behind him, blood on her clothes and fur. As they drew close, she led her horse, Panda, directly in the path of a Marazi soldier crawling on the ground. Bones crunched.
Even with his mask, Wren could tell Chang was livid. He drew level with her. “What in the gods—”
A discordant riot of horn blows drowned him out.
Beyond the twinkling lantern light of Marazi’s New City, the bridge that led to the Old City was teeming with soldiers. More swarmed down its broad boulevards. Other guards rushed to man what Wren knew from preparations with her father’s war council were cannons, located at intervals along the riverside of the Old City. Part of their plan had been to have their spies within the city rig them so they’d backfire—
Boom!
A shudder tore through the earth as one of the pavilions where a cannon was being loaded exploded. There were distant shrieks as debris and bodies slammed down upon nearby soldiers or splashed heavily in the Zebe.
“Oooh,” Lova cooed, as if watching a fireworks display.
A second blast rent the air.
This time, the cannon worked as it was supposed to. There was a hurtling flare of smoldering metal before it crashed nearby, bowling over both Marazi and Hanno soldiers.
Across the smoldering campsite, the battle raged on. Their White Wing allies, though few in number, were taking out batches of Marazi demons at once, clutching them in their talons before flinging their screaming figures through the air. Some paces away, Khuen and his White Wing friend Samira sent arrows through the necks of soldiers with astonishing speed.
Chang was blustering something about how Wren had ruined their plans and now look at the mess they were dealing with.
She held up a bloody hand. “Time for a new plan. Let the soldiers come here. The refugees are being evacuated, so we may as well use this as a battleground, and we’ll be at an advantage since we can see them coming. Plus, it’ll minimize casualties.”
“What about Lord Anjiri?” Chang said. “We need to capture him in order to take the city—”
“I can get to him.”
“You, on your own—”
“Yes, Commander.” Wren lifted her neck. “Me. Ketai Hanno’s daughter and the only living member of the legendary Xia warriors, trained from birth to assassinate demons. Or perhaps you’d prefer to volunteer your services in my place?”
His face purpled.
“Return to your soldiers,” she ordered. When he didn’t move, Wren barked, “Now!”
As he drew his horse around, Wren addressed Lova. “It’s too far to the next bridge. I’ll have to swim.”
“They’ll spot you,” she said.
“I’ll hide myself.”
“No, Wren. No more magic. You need to save your energy. Let me help—I’ll create a distraction.”
“With what?” Wren retorted impatiently. “Your beauty?”
Lova arched a brow. “Who’s the one joking at inappropriate times now? While that would obviously work, I’ve got something else in mind.”
“Fine.” Wren yanked Eve around, knowing what Lova meant. “Blow something up, then.”
“Oh, honey. I thought you’d never ask.”
They kicked their horses into motion, hurtling away from the campsite and into the eerily quiet streets of Marazi’s New City.
Its citizens were hiding in their homes, nervous faces peeking from shutters and cracked doorways. Wren and Lova took a less direct route to avoid the fresh wave of soldiers arriving from the southern bridge. Bird demons—some of Qanna’s White Wing, perhaps—flew with them.
They left the horses in a deserted street before slinking through the shadows to the Zebe.
Lova peered over the stone wall that bordered the river. “Looks pretty grim,” she said. The water roared past, murky and flashing from the burning pavilions. “Sure you’re feeling up to it?”
Wren ignored her, already climbing over the wall. She rolled the sleeves and hems of her bloodstained clothes. Tying her hair back, she calculated her crossing by eye.
“I’ll meet you at the Orchid Hall,” Lova said.
“I don’t need help,” Wren replied automatically.
“I know you don’t,” Lova snapped. “If you hadn’t realized by now, Wren, it’s not always about you. I need to know you’re going to be all right.” Then she disappeared into the shadows with a swish of her tail.