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The air reeked of smoke and fear-sweat. The gatehouse we needed stood silent, its heavy wooden door likely still barred.
A flicker of movement appeared in the upper level. Galon tensed, and I nodded. I’d seen it too. Four iron guards peered out into the chaotic city.
Now.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
Galon nodded. While his mastery of water was his strongest power, his wards were also some of the best I’d seen. They would ensure we weren’t taken by surprise.
“Now,” I said.
The three of us moved toward the gatehouse. Immediately, arrows filled the air, the bolts gleaming in the dim light of the torches. Fae iron.
Galon grunted as they hit his ward.
Focusing on the wooden door, I pulled my power to me, basking in the feel of it crackling beneath my skin. It exploded in a lethal arc, shattering the door beforeus with a resounding crack. Wooden shards flew inward, instantly killing anyone stupid enough to be in the way.
The boy was upstairs on the second level. And by now, he would be surrounded by all four of the guards who’d disappeared from their spots by the window.
Just as we’d planned.
Marth twirled his sword in his hand, his expression colder than I’d ever seen it.
Acrid smoke billowed from the obliterated entrance, and we strode inside. I stepped over the charred remains of a guard caught in the blast zone, turning to meet the sword that slashed toward my face.
Spinning out of the way, I sliced at his side. My sword carved through muscle and bone, and he screamed, collapsing to his knees. Another swipe of my sword, and he fell, eyes empty.
Galon and Marth had already killed the other three guards. I flicked my gaze to the stairs and back to them. Galon nodded.
No sound came from the second level. But I could feel them up there, waiting. I raised my eyebrow at Galon. He nodded again. He could continue warding us just long enough to get upstairs. It wouldn’t protect us from hand-to-hand anyway. Wards were best suited for projectiles and power-based attacks.
Marth positioned himself near the remains of the door, ready to guard it against anyone who approached.
Silently, Galon and I climbed the stairs. They had the advantage—we’d be exposed as soon as we crested the top steps. But if Galon said his ward would hold, then it would hold.
The iron guards struck fast from the shadows. Arrows hit Galon’s ward and dropped. I counted six. And there would be more, still guarding the boy. “Ward,” Galon warned.
“Drop it,” I said.
His ward disappeared. I whirled, smashing bone, slicing limbs, conserving my power for later. Next to me, Galon fought with methodical precision, his every movement perfectly calibrated to do maximum damage with minimum effort.
I ran my gaze around the upper level. Shadows clung to the circular chamber’s stone walls, dispelled only by the flickering of mounted torches. The room was sparse—a wooden table and chairs, a couple of narrow cots, a few weapon racks lining the perimeter.
In the rear of the room, a heavy oak door was reinforced with iron bands. The entrance to the cells.
A door that was currently swinging open.
* * *
“The Bloodthirsty Prince will die.”
My lungs seized, my stomach hollowed out, and a fine trembling began in my limbs.
“You’re lying.” The word was strangled. Next to me, Madinia took a step closer.
“His death will ignite a rage in you that has never been seen before and will never be seen again.” The seerglanced at Madinia. “You must find a way to help her channel that rage and not become lost to it. Or she will doom all of us.”
Madinia’s mouth thinned. Her face was pale. The old woman scowled at her before turning back to me. “Even now, you refuse to believe me. You must direct that stubbornness into a will to survive. To make sure your people survive.”
