“Get her to safety!” bellowed the first lieutenant, shoving the queen behind one of his soldiers.
The uniformed archer shot another arrow, just before Sloane, long black coat flying, jumped down from a collapsed viewing stand. She knocked the arrow out of the sky with her twin obsidian daggers, then thrust them at the archer. A pair of shadowed wolves burst from her blades and tackled the man, jaws open wide. One latched onto his throat, the other his belly.
Rielle ran to him, joining Sloane in time to see the man’s clouded eyes flicker, as if a shadow had passed through his mind. The wolves flinched away and dissolved. The archer’s body jerked once; his neck snapped. His gray eyes cleared to an ordinary brown.
“What was that?” Sloane muttered, wiping the sweat from her face. “Did you see that?”
“I did,” said Rielle, a slow understanding creeping through her. Corien?
Hmm? He sounded entirely satisfied. What is it, my dear?
“These are Sauvillier colors.” She touched the man’s collar. “Why would Lord Dervin’s men attack like this?”
Something slammed into the ground, shaking the hills.
“I don’t understand,” Sloane snapped, a thread of desperate fear in her voice. “We’re their own people!”
What a tragedy it all is, Corien mused. If only there was a way to stop it.
“He’s doing it,” Rielle whispered. “He’s controlling them.”
Sloane stared at her. “What? Who is?”
If you want to stop this, you will come to me. Now.
A chill shook her. Where are you?
Come find me, my marvelous girl. Or I will kill them all where they stand.
Sizzling booms of magic and the agonized cries of soldiers ripped the air of the foothills to shreds. Rielle started to run.
Sloane grabbed her arm. “No, wait! Tell me what’s happening!”
Rielle knocked the flat of her palm against Sloane’s chest and sent her flying back twenty yards into a clump of grass.
She turned and ran, tears smarting her eyes, but there was no time for guilt. She tore up the hill’s rocky slope, along a series of cliffs overlooking the still-burning maze.
The earth bucked beneath her feet, sending her flying. She landed hard, turned to see an armored Sauvillier woman wrench her ax from the ground. An earthshaker.
The woman stared at Rielle with a face made of stone. Her eyes were an unseeing gray. The woman’s mouth twitched; Rielle recognized that smile.
“Come find me, Rielle,” the woman croaked, raising her ax once more.
Rielle flicked her wrist. The earth rose up like a cresting wave, then opened up and swallowed the woman. A terrified scream rang out, then fell silent.
Getting closer, Corien whispered.
She turned, following the trail of his voice along the cliffs. She ran past dueling soldiers, gathered churning knots of wind in her hands and knocked them all aside. An arrow shot past her, barely a miss.
Then she heard a familiar voice cry out, “Lady Rielle!”
She whirled, saw a group of people huddled against a rocky outcropping, young Simon Randell and his father among them. Fifty yards away, a dozen Sauvillier metalmasters advanced on them, palms outstretched, flinging an endless cyclone of blades.
And Audric stood between them and his people, Illumenor casting a brilliant shield of light around them.
But the metalmasters were fast, and their weapons faster. The blades tore themselves into smaller pieces as they flew, spinning so fast between their casters’ hands and Audric’s wall of sunlight that they became a storm of sparks and steel. They bore down on him, relentless, ricocheting off his blazing shield again and again.
Audric’s heels sank into the ground beneath the pressure. He lowered his head and let out a furious roar of pain. Light scattered across the ground like fallen stars.
From behind Rielle came a terrified cry: “Save him!”
Ludivine.
Rielle whistled for Atheria, power rushing down her limbs to pool in her palms. Atheria dropped from the sky, raced low across the clifftops.
Turning, Rielle whipped her arm in a circle. The metalmasters flew back from her, their weapons crashing to the ground.
She spun back to Audric, thrust out her palm. A blast of wind slammed into him, sent him flying back through the air right as Atheria passed by the cliff’s edge. The chavaile maneuvered sharply to catch him, then climbed back into the sky.
“Rielle, no!” Audric reached back for her as Atheria carried him away to safety. “Rielle!”
What a delightful development, Corien crowed. I would say how noble of you that was, Rielle, but we both know the truth, don’t we?
Rielle raced past the people Audric had been protecting and threw herself into the knot of metalmasters. They’d recovered, retrieved their weapons. Their eyes gray and clouded, they lunged at her. Daggers came flying. She pivoted, dodged them. An angry tongue of metallic-tasting magic wrapped around her foot, yanking her down. She slammed her palms to the ground; tremors cracked the earth open. The metalmasters stumbled, and she leapt up, ducked under a chain’s angry lash, then thrust her forearm at the group and watched them fly. Some skidded off the cliff’s edge.
She turned, searching wildly for Ludivine, found her and Garver Randell helping the survivors down a cliffside path.
“Lu! Over here!”
Ludivine looked up, hair mussed and cheeks bloodstained. Their eyes locked; Ludivine smiled breathlessly at her.
Then, an enormous metal-tipped hammer spun across the space between them, slammed Ludivine in the gut, and knocked her screaming over the cliff’s edge.
Furious instinct took over Rielle’s body. She spun on her heel, punched the air so hard that the metalmaster who’d thrown the hammer flew back one hundred yards. His skidding body carved a furrow into the ground before slamming into the mountainside.
Rielle stumbled to the cliff’s edge, searching the ruins of the maze far below for signs of Ludivine’s body—and finding nothing. The smoke was too thick, the distance too great. Shock swept through her in waves. She clung to the rock, her vision rolling.
“Lady Rielle,” said Garver Randell, approaching carefully up the cliffside path. He extended his hand, Simon watching wide-eyed behind him. “Please, my lady. Come with us.”
Oh, my darling girl. Corien’s voice was as gentle as it ever had been. Let me comfort you.
Rielle stood, pushing Garver’s hand away. She turned, unsteady, and gazed through tear-filled eyes across the hilltops.
Where? Her thoughts felt sluggish. I can’t… Corien, she’s…
Follow the sound of my voice.
She did, running first slowly and then frantically. A terrible clouded grief yawned inside her, threatening to swallow her whole, but beneath even that was the pulsing need—to see Corien, to know that he was real.
To stop him from doing anything worse.
His trail led her into a cave beneath a large hill. She ran through a nest of cramped stone passages, the walls trembling on either side as the fight behind her continued.
At last, she rounded a corner into a circular cave. Tree roots snaked up the walls. A small opening in the center of the ceiling gave her a glimpse of the sky.
King Bastien rose from a boulder against the wall. Lord Dervin sat on the floor. Gray clouds clogged each man’s eyes.
At the sound of footsteps, Rielle turned to see her father walking toward her out of the shadows.
She hurried toward him at once. “Papa, you’re all right!”
“You found me.” Her father’s mouth curled into a slow smile. “Well done.”
Rielle froze. He extended his hand, gray eyes unblinking on her face. She brushed past him, searching the room’s shadows.
“Manipulating my father’s mind,” she declared, “is not the way to win my heart.”
“Shall I release him, then?” murmured a voice.
She whirled at the sound. A column of still black watched her from the corner. Her mouth went dry; her heart skipped up her throat.
“Release all of them,” she ordered.
“As you wish.”