Her skin was so warm, I could’ve soaked it up for the rest of time. “You don’t need to do that… to comfort me.”
“What part of it feels real don’t you understand?” Tears tracked through the blood on her cheeks as she planted a kiss to my lips.
“It isn’t real. It isn’t…”
93
Bastian
I found her sitting with my dead self’s head in her lap. Her cheeks were soaked, but she had her bow drawn, an arrow trained on me. “Bastian.” She sagged.
“Not the best day to turn on me, love.” I flashed a smile as she lowered her bow. “But if I’m going to die at anyone’s hands, I’d pick yours. Though, for the record, I’d prefer your thighs.”
She made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh or a sob as I stroked her hair and helped her up. “You may have mentioned that before.” Her gaze lingered on the body. “It doesn’t feel right to leave him.”
“Look away.” I hefted a marble bust from its plinth.
“What are you—?”
I smashed my other self’s head in. “No one can know. This will stop them recognising me.” I stood, shielding her from the sight. “I’ll have to make sure I get hold of the body during the clean-up, though. Here…” I pulled the moth-hilted dagger from his hip and pressed it into her hand. “Had a feeling you might need your weapons. The Wicked Lady doesn’t hide away, even during an attempted coup.”
She strapped the dagger in place. “It’s just Katherine.” She nodded, a crease between her eyebrows. “The Wicked Lady. The ember. It’s all me. It always was. Only… before I couldn’t bring all those parts together. I think now, I’m nearly there.”
My chest filled. Stars above. She really was a goddess, standing before me in blood and gold, ready to march into a fight without saying she wasn’t brave, only desperate. Without needing to wear a mask or a false name in order to break someone else’s rules.
I lifted her chin and kissed her. I wanted to make it long—I wanted to kiss her to within an inch of her life. But time wasn’t on our side.
She blinked up at me. “What was that for?”
“To show you.”
“Show me what?”
“How much I’m constantly awed by you.”
She looked away, but I caught her smile first. “Flatterer. We still need to get to the king, though.” She pulled a wad of fabric from her cleavage. “Look. It isn’t Sura. These all have that mixed thread. One being different, I could understand.”
I blinked at the collection of bloodied insignias. “But all of them? It would be a mighty coincidence.”
“Exactly.” She gave me a beseeching look.
“You’re right. I don’t think Sura is behind this. Could be Lucius or someone trying to assassinate him.”
“If he caught you unawares, he could use it as a chance to kill you and blame Hydra Ascendant.”
I retrieved my Shadowblade, smiling at her concern for me. “Well, thanks to you, I’m not unawares. He was last seen heading to the throne room. Come on.”
She frowned at her hands, clenching and unclenching them as the purple stains faded. Tension thrummed through her shoulders as her gaze flicked to the bodies. No shadows or purple haze hid them anymore.
I held her shoulders. “This is what your power is for—for you to use. Not to be denied. Not to keep you isolated, but for you to exert your will upon the world at last.” I squeezed until she looked me in the eye. “You are the one in control.”
She lifted her chin, back straight, jaw set, something regal in her determination. “I am.”
94
Kat
I didn’t know whether to be relieved or horrified by how easy it had been to kill so many attackers with my magic. But tired from hazing, I didn’t have the energy to pick that tangle apart.
As we approached the corridor leading to the throne room, the sounds of battle reached us: metal and cries, the groans of the dying.
“Kingsguard and Cyrus’s personal guard,” Bastian muttered as he peered around the corner. “No sign of Cyrus or Lucius—they must already be inside.”
If these false Ascendants worked for the king, why were they fighting his guard and Prince Cyrus’s? Commitment to the deception? Had they turned on him?
Focus. What did this mean in practical terms?
“No haze, then.” That would make it harder to keep him safe, which was all the more important now his other self was dead. I unhooked my bow from the strap crossing my body.
He touched my back, palm warm on my bare skin, tethering me here rather than to the possibilities of what might be about to happen to him in that fight. “I’ll go in, you stay here. Duck around the corner if they fire back.”
Just as he went to turn away, I grabbed his hand. “I need you not to die, Bastian. Do you understand? When I saw you…”
He gripped my fingers. “I know exactly how you felt.” His gaze flicked to my chest where there should’ve been a scar. “I’m not dying today and neither are you.” With a nod, he stepped out into the corridor.
As he charged, blades ready, shadows racing ahead, I fired.
My arrow cut through grey leather armour, and when my first kill fell, the teal-haired woman who’d been fighting him looked up. Her eyes widened, first on Bastian, then me. With a fierce smile, she inclined her head and turned to her next foe.
As warmth filled me, I already had another arrow nocked, but it took painful seconds to pick out my target. Bodies jostled left and right, in constant movement, so where one instant I had a clear shot at the enemy’s throat, the next, one of Cyrus’s guards stood in the way.
Bastian drove into the enemy as silent and dark as his shadows. He cut one down, then another—surprise on his side. And that opened up a shot for me.
I took it, and another fake Ascendant fell.
In the chaos, with shadows ghosting left and right and dozens of bodies packed into the open space before the throne room doors, I could half watch Bastian.
His fighting wasn’t like a dance—dances had too many pretty flourishes.
Here, every movement served a purpose.
He dropped to one knee, dodging a spear point, then pivoted on that knee inside the wielder’s guard. As he rose, he drove his dagger up beneath their ribs. The whole thing flowed with such precision, it seemed like just one movement.
But as the spear wielder fell, another fake Ascendant took their place.
So many. I fired and fired, taking out my fair share, but there was always another. Thankfully, his shadows kept skittering across the floor, bringing arrows back to me.
Steel flashing, Bastian blocked another strike as I nocked my next arrow. Behind him an Ascendant grabbed the fallen spear and readied it while another approached with daggers.
Fuck.
I pulled the bowstring taut, heart in my throat with the knowledge that if both parts of him were killed, he would die—really die.
Not while I still drew breath.
Jaw ratcheting tight, I squeezed my bow, which tingled in my grip.
Exhale. Release.