My mind provided me images of Margie, trapped in her kitchen—of the others, burning to death in their common room.
No. No, no, no. We had to go back.
Someone grabbed Madinia’s reins. We were both dressed in finery, riding the king’s best horses on the outskirts of the slums. That made us targets. I yanked the thread of time toward me, leaned over, and ripped the reins from his hand.
Time resumed before I could do much more.
The man choked out a scream, turning to flee. I wavered on the horse, all sound dimming. Then we were moving once more. “Stop,” I croaked out.
“You’re about to pass out,” Madinia snarled. “Just hold on.”
She’d taken my reins, spurring my horse on. I buried my hands in the horse’s mane and clutched tightly as Madinia took over our escape.
I had a bad feeling.
If the king had been in the castle, he would have been summoned by all the screaming.
That meant that he was at the city walls.
Madinia whirled as we cantered down a side street, only to find the next street we needed was blocked. For someone who spent most of her time in the castle, she’d managed to memorize plenty of routes to the city walls. Time and time again, we reached streets that were blocked, and she was able to take us in a new direction, until the city gates finally came into sight. My horse broke into a gallop with no encouragement from me, and the click-clack of hooves on stone was the only sound for the next few moments. I swayed once more, forcing myself to bend low, almost hugging the horse.
Sabium would be waiting at those walls. Where everyone I loved was gathered in one place.
I crouched in the saddle, my heart beating hard enough to crack my ribs.
We hurtled through the gates and into chaos.
The world narrowed, but I saw everything with my next breath.
The king, surrounded by guards, Farrow kneeling at his feet. Strange, tall women who looked like they were made of stone, standing behind the king. Lorian, fifty foot-spans away, positioned shoulder-to-shoulder with the other mercenaries. My brothers—both of them—flanking Asinia. Three hundred other prisoners positioned behind them, all of them standing next to their carriages with their hands in the air.
Among them were Vicer, Margie, and some of the other rebels.
I turned my attention back to the king.
Farrow’s eyes met mine, and then his gaze slid to Madinia’s, wide and filled with sorrow.
“Please,” Madinia choked out, and the king smiled.
With the swing of his guard’s sword, Farrow’s head rolled to the ground.
Madinia screamed and screamed.
I was out of energy. Out of magic. Out of everything. But I snatched my reins from Madinia’s hands, turned my horse, and galloped across the wide expanse in front of the city. Toward Lorian.
“Aim!” the king shouted, and I felt hundreds of arrows turned on me. Any moment now, they would fire, and if I was lucky, I would die instantly. If I wasn’t, I would be pierced through, forced to choke on my last breaths.
Lorian roared my name. It was a sound that seemed to be ripped from his soul.
All I could see was his face. All I could feel was the amulet I ripped from my neck, the stone heating up in my hand. All I could hear was Sabium laughing, that rough chuckle I’d always loathed.
But the king’s laugh was drowned out by the memory of Lorian’s voice in my head. Of our vow. “None of your prisoners will live unless you give me that amulet.”
I lifted my hand. Lorian’s eyes blazed into mine.
The amulet seemed to suck in the light. Behind me, the king’s laughter turned to a wrathful scream.
I threw the amulet toward Lorian with everything I had, hunching my shoulders against the pain I knew would encompass my final moments.
Lorian caught the amulet in his hand. And he laughed—a wild, exultant laugh.
Dread exploded in my stomach.
Lorian was somehow growing bigger before my eyes. Distantly, I could hear Asinia screaming something. But I couldn’t make it out over the sound of thunder.
Lightning lit up the sky.
Lorian’s ears grew longer. Longer and pointed. His eyes were no longer that familiar forest green. No, they blazed emerald, his irises silver.
Fae.
He was fae.
I’d thought he was a hybrid. Like me. Thought we were fighting for the same cause.
Something deep inside my chest cracked open, and I gasped at the pain. Lorian’s eyes met mine once more. As if he’d somehow heard that intake of breath.
“Fae scum,” the king roared. “You will burn for your deception!”
Lorian smiled—that slow, feral killing smile. I slid off the horse and turned back toward King Sabium, my knees so weak I stumbled.
I should be dead by now. But—
Lightning flashed, hitting each arrow as they flew toward us. The kind of power rumored to be nothing more than myth.
My gaze found the other mercenaries. Except they weren’t mercenaries at all. All of them were taller, broader. All had pointed ears and eyes that glowed.
It suddenly made sense. Why they were so closed-mouthed about their powers.
Rythos couldn’t just make people like him. Marth didn’t only have the ability to see glimpses of the past. These men didn’t have just one magical ability. They had many. But their power had been hugely diminished for some reason. And they wanted it back.
Because they were fae. That was why they were here. They’d each only ever told me about their main power. I’d believed them, because I’d never expected otherwise.
A crown of lightning wreathed Lorian’s head before it became a ball of sparks, shooting at the guards once more.
“It’s the Bloodthirsty Prince!”
I bent in two, hands on my knees. It was my heart that had cracked open. It had broken so violently, I could have sworn I was bleeding out.
Lorian wasn’t just fae. He was the fae prince who had leveled Crawyth. The fae prince who had murdered my real parents.
The hole inside me, the one I hadn’t even realized had begun to fill…it was empty once more.
“You can’t kill him yet, Lorian!” Galon roared.
The guards were still firing arrows at us. Arrows that Lorian continued to destroy with his lightning. The guards began to scatter, backing away despite the king’s roaring orders.
The stone women…exploded. Small rocks flew into the guards, causing several of them to fall to their knees.
Lorian slowly turned his head in that strange…fae way of his. I’d noticed those differences and ignored them. Ignored them, because I didn’t want to see. Ignored them, because I’d been close to falling in love with him.
The air crackled. Thunder roared. Lorian lifted a hand. And the closest guards—the ones who’d listened to the king and stayed…Lorian’s bolts struck them with one blow. A gruesome, instant death.
The king turned and kicked his horse, fleeing. Most of his guards followed him.
Lorian’s gaze was almost wistful as he watched them go. His mind likely on murder once more. But he turned away, dismounted, and prowled toward me. I felt like a rabbit that could sense a hawk circling above her, ready to strike.
Prey.