“Not for the next couple of centuries.”
“You know she gets a say in the matter, don’t you?”
“And I’m pretty sure I know what she’d say, if you asked.”
I wasn’t so sure. Not after her experience of marriage so far. “You’re married for a couple of years and suddenly you’re the expert on relationships?”
Chin lifting, he straightened to his full height. “Actually, yes. Rose and I are very happy. In fact, we’re—”
The high whistle of something moving at speed cut through the music. Adrenaline surged through me as two arrows streaked overhead and pinged off the king’s throne.
Fuck.
“Shit,” Faolán growled.
We thrust our drinks at the nearest people, starting for the dais.
Kat. A shudder chased through me. There was an attack, and I didn’t know where she was. I glanced back at the ballroom doors as alarm rippled through the crowd.
This had to be what Sura meant about uniting the throne. A coup against both sides.
We shoved past folk fighting to get out and ordered them to remain calm. The last thing we needed was a panic like at the Solstice.
At our gritted instructions, they clutched each other, eyes wide. Some stared up at the mezzanine overlooking the ballroom where the shots had come from.
As word spread, chaos broke out.
The music stopped and screams and shouts took over. Dark clad figures dropped from the mezzanine, blades glinting, and more burst from a side room as archers covered their advance.
How the fuck had they got in?
I gritted my teeth and drew the dagger from my boot as Faolán produced a blade. Of course he’d had the same idea. It was why we were friends. Always ready. Always armed.
Side-by-side, we worked our way towards the dais, though my heart dragged me back.
I didn’t give a fuck about the king currently hiding behind the throne. I wanted to find Kat.
But if he died…
And if this was Hydra Ascendant…
The chaos wouldn’t be contained to this room—it would break out across the realm.
A pair of the armoured attackers reached us, clearly aiming for the dais and the royal family there.
My muscles thrummed with energy, glad to have somewhere to direct it.
I dodged, shoving a civilian out the way with my shadows as a blade cut through the air. The next strike rang on my dagger and up my arm, and my attacker grinned as if pleased I only had a small blade.
Idiot.
My shadows swarmed around his feet, only meeting a little resistance from his magic. More powerful fae made it more of a struggle. But not him.
He jolted as they tugged on his ankle, and I took my opening.
Gripping his sword arm, I pulled him close and drove my dagger into his throat.
His eyes went wide. He gurgled, blood bubbling at his neck and from his mouth. Then he slumped to the floor.
A second later, Faolán had his attacker taken care of, and they fell at his feet, a wicked gash across their shoulder, neck twisted at an unnatural angle.
“All right?”
He answered with a grim nod, and we took the attackers’ weapons before continuing forward.
I craned to check the situation on the dais. Cyrus shielded himself with a chair, and bent over his father, ushering him through a side door with guards following. Before the throne a huge sabrecat roared, baring its teeth at anyone who came close. Russet stripes ran through its golden coat.
Not it—him. Sepher.
Cyrus had the king’s escape in hand, and Sepher covered it. I even spotted Zita pressed against the throne, dagger in hand, wearing a look that dared anyone to sneak up on her new husband.
We weren’t the only ones who’d broken the rules about weapons.
I grabbed Faolán’s arm. “They don’t need us.”
He nodded. “Look.” He held still, forcing the crowd to break around us, and from across the room, I made out Asher’s black hair and the purple gleam of Lysander’s. He whistled and they turned towards us, arriving as the crowd’s flow became a trickle.
“Have you seen Perry?” Pale, Asher scanned the guests pressing at the exit as guards pushed in.
“No,” I muttered, signalling to the guards to hold a line around the double doors. If they entered on one side, they could help civilians out the other. “Nor any of the others.” The words were bitter on my tongue.
Lysander held out his hand for Faolán’s spare blade before shadowstepping out of sight, leaving flecks of darkness behind. An instant later, he materialised behind an attacker on the other side of the room who had hold of a pregnant woman. With a single thrust, he drove the knife into their spine.
While he helped the woman, I gave Asher my dagger. “Focus.” I said it as much to myself as him.
Blood bathed the ballroom floor by the time the first group of guards reached us, and most of the guests had escaped. But a few guards still fought the attackers, and screams echoed from the corridors. This wasn’t over.
“The king and Prince Cyrus went that way.” I pointed out the side door. “Go after them and protect their backs.”
One started in that direction, but another caught her shoulder—Amandine, who’d stopped Kat at the bridge. The others exchanged glances. “But Dawn’s Ascendant,” someone muttered.
Amandine scowled. “And as far as we know, this is an attack by Dusk. You could be sending us into a trap.”
I bit back a groan. Fucking daytime.
Faolán bristled, and Asher’s shoulders squared. I could feel his “I’m the queen’s cousin” card coming this way, but it would make no difference. These guards were all clad in Dawn’s pale grey.
I straightened and lifted my chin, fixing Amandine with a look that could wither trees. “Dusk has nothing to do with this. I knew nothing about it until the arrows started flying. Now, go and protect your king.”
Her nostrils flared.
“For once Dusk is talking sense. Stop being damn fools and do as the man says.” At my side appeared Sepher, in his fae form, naked and bloodied. Back on the dais half a dozen attackers lay dead… or at least parts of them did.
Beside him, Zita stared daggers at the guards, her actual blade stained red.
Amandine sucked in a breath and bowed her head. “At once, Your Highness.” The guards trooped off after the king and Cyrus.
I nodded my thanks to Sepher and gestured to the bodies and pooled blood. “Sorry your wedding turned into… this.”
As he slid an arm around Zita’s waist, he flashed me a feline grin, not the slightest bit concerned by his lack of clothes. “Like they say, the couple who slays together stays together.”
“I’m sure that isn’t a saying,” Asher muttered, gaze skimming over the dead guests.
“It is now.” Sepher smirked. “What’re you planning?”
It took me a beat to register that the fighting in here had stopped, and above, the mezzanine was empty except for a handful of guards.