Our eyes met, his asking a question that he wasn’t sure he wanted me to answer.
I slid my hand to the side of his neck and his hands came to my lower back. “My allegiance hasn’t changed, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m with you.”
As I spoke, the hair on the back of my neck rose. An invisible fingertip traced my collarbone, making my skin tingle. An amorphous shadow blotted out the sun like a moving stain. My throat convulsed. The tendrils flowed into me and erased all worry and care, replacing it with a heady sense of limitless energy. The world lost color. Arcus turned light gray outlined in black, his heart dark and clear in my sight.
“Kill him.” It was the familiar ringing voice, excruciating and undeniable. I would do anything to please that voice.
No. I ripped my mind free with a sharp cry. The world regained its color, but somehow off, painted in faded hues, leaving me half in, half out of reality. The dark wisps licked at the edges of my awareness.
“Ruby?” said Arcus, his brow tightly creased.
The feeling was rising, the bloodlust sharpening. I had invited the Minax in, and now I didn’t know how to get it to leave. And it thirsted for Arcus’s death. I could feel my fingers itching to reach out and send dark tendrils into his heart. My control was slipping away by the second.
“Let me go!” I snarled, pushing against his chest. “The Minax is becoming a part of me. I can’t explain now. I have to destroy the throne before I hurt you!”
As he loosened his hold in surprise, I turned and bolted into the arena. The alcove that led to the castle was on the opposite side. Somehow, I had to make my way through the crush.
“Ruby!” Arcus shouted, fury tinged with fear.
But there was only one thought in my head: Destroy the throne. Marella had told me I was more powerful today than any other day. And now, while the king was distracted, might be my only chance. Even if the chance was small, I had to try.
I scrambled into the throng, a screaming whirl of swords and frost. I dodged and ducked, sometimes narrowly avoiding the clash of soldiers and Arcus’s supporters, impeccable blue tunics over armor pitted against people dressed as ragged peasants. I wove my way between them, sometimes using blasts of heat or flame to shield me from shards of ice thrown into an opponent’s face. It took several minutes just to get near the alcove where Braka and her champions fought with fierce, muscular efficiency.
“Fight for Arcus!” I shouted to Braka.
Her icy braids danced as she blocked and kicked and swept her sword in lusty arcs. At her blank look, I realized she knew Arcus by a different name.
“Fight for Arelius Arkanus!”
“I can’t, Fireling,” she said, parrying blows from three men at once. “We’re the king’s champions!”
“And who is the true king?” The question hung in the air as I darted into the alcove. I didn’t have time to convince her.
I streaked down the tunnel and into the courtyard, where fighting had spilled to and taken over. The arena was nothing compared with the battle that raged outside the castle. Steel rang against steel over cries and shouts. Archers loosed arrows from their position in the battlements. Frost wolves twisted and leaped, their teeth bared, eyes wild as they protected their masters. Blood darkened the cobbles underfoot, the metallic scent mixing with the reek of sweat and fear.
As I gained the castle wall, the guards were closing the massive doors. With a frantic rush, I focused on armor and swords, sending heat into the metal. Two of the guards dropped their weapons and cried out. One of them held on, coming at me with a shout. I darted to the side and threw heat into the air to cover him in a cloud of fog, then slipped past. Momentum made the doors continue to slide shut. When they closed, I pulled a heavy bar into place, sealing everyone out.
The corridors were empty. Most of the castle guards were outside in the fray. I was sure the throne room doors would still be guarded, though, so I headed for the dining hall’s secret passage.
I ran to the wall where the door was hidden and slid my hand along the wall, searching for the mechanism. I couldn’t find it.
“Ruby!” The voice was muffled but familiar.
There was a click, and then the door opened a crack to reveal someone inside the passage. It was Marella, one of her violet eyes and the elegant curve of her cheek visible in the finger-wide opening.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered.
“As I said, my father has served as advisor to three kings. I know every hidden room, every forgotten staircase, and every tunnel in this castle. I didn’t know if the king had shown it to you, but I hoped.
“Come.” She opened the door wider and started to move away.
Remembering what she’d told me—that Kane was one of the soldiers who raided the abbey, that Arcus was dead—I grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around. “Why did you lie to me?”