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Bells of battle and attack rang out, the echoes of the booms felt to the soul. Another line of Kappi met their positions—lines from the forest, the walls, from the paths that would lead to the shore.
We were surrounded.
“Kagesh.” Destin’s harsh voice was amplified. He stood in the center of a watchtower, golden hair braided, blades secured over his back. “You bring unprovoked battle to your people. You break the heart of Magiaria. The goddess abandons you.”
My lip curled. “I’ve no need for the goddess when I have them.”
A few hisses and grumbles of laughter rolled from the Kappi. No doubt our miserly crew was hardly a threat. The royal guard knew I could break bodies, but they knew it could only last so long before I grew weary and depended on spell casts the same as others.
“Return our Blood Sacrifice and face your fate with honor.”
Adira stepped to my side. “Your Blood Sacrifice stands with Prince Kage.”
“Look around,” I shouted, aiming the point of my blade at the Kappi. “Why would I return with such small numbers if I did not care for this land?”
“Hugo.” Adira’s voice was soft. She spoke to the line of guards nearest to us. “Hugo, what was done to you?”
Bruises and lashes marked Hugo’s face and arms.
“Destin,” I said in a low snarl.
Hugo had been given a knife—not his Soturi blade—a mark of his treason, no doubt, at the Sanctuary. Destin put him on the front lines to die.
“This is wrong,” Adira insisted. “You know it, Hugo. I see it in your eyes.”
Hugo dipped his chin, but never reached for his small weapon.
I let out a deep roar of frustration. “Why would the woman who gave her life to save Magiaria stand with me, not the crown prince? Search your hearts, you know there is a great deal wrong here.” I turned back to the tower and pointed the sword at Destin. “There is a great deal wrong with him.”
Destin’s features hardened. He waved one hand, and the echo of his bespelled voice shook the soil. “Kill the spares and the prince if you must. Leave the woman unharmed and bring her to me.”
Kappi shifted. Hugo looked side to side. One hand went to hishilt as those in his unit took their first step toward us. He still did not draw his blade.
It was time. “Wildling.”
“Thief.”
I did not turn around, simply drew my sword. “I love you.”
“And I you.”
Adira let the linens fall away, so the silver veins in the spell cast stone gleamed in the sunlight.
Soft, almost gentle, but with a fire tinged on each sound, Adira muttered the words of the spell cast. Natural, like a second language. As though the glow of burning embers ignited on the marks of our vows, across her forearms, her brow, to the Soturi brand on her spin, Adira burned in a gilded light.
Wind whistled through the leaves. Kappi shouted their unease. Destin roared for our deaths—no longer fearful if Adira was wounded in the crossfire.
When her eyes opened, they flashed in the violence of a wildfire.
“Kúrs bønd ov eynsyent breyk þé nå!” Adira shouted the final words, body trembling, and a drop of blood slid from one side of her nose.
She slammed the stone against the soil, and glass, cold and sharp, sliced through my skull.
CHAPTER 47
Adira
Kappi flattened in a single breath.From the stone came a burst so fierce, it was as though the whole of the land were caving inward.
