The door flew open, hitting the wall with enough force to jar my teeth. A figure tore through the threshold. It wore only black shadows over its face and body, and they shifted and flew behind his back as though they’d been sewn to his flesh. It didn’t stop in the door. It sliced into the room as though it had forced the door open at a run.
But it paused to look at me.
“What the fuck did you do?”
“Get out.” Emilius demanded as the shadow drove toward him. My blood dripped from his knife. He pointed it at the figure. “GUARDS.”
But the shadow had already reached him.
Was already ducking under the King’s outthrust fist.
Had already wrenched Emilius’s arm backwards. Stole his knife. Snapped his bone.
Emilius howled in sudden agony. The shadow silenced him with a crack to the jaw. He hit the floor, flat and unconscious. The shadow gripped him by the collar, lifting his limp body, striking him again.
“Pheolix,” I murmured.
He’d kill the King. He’d do it without a second thought. I’d seen him do it before. Some distant, rational string in the weave of my mind tugged. I couldn’t let Emilius die. He probably deserved to die. After the last hour, I wanted nothing more than to smash him into human pulp.
But if Emilius died, all of Thaan’s plans would combust.
Thaan might leave Calder. He'd take us with him. Cebrinne would make her escape to Leihani.
And I needed more time to convince her not to go.
“We need the human King,” I said, fighting to keep my eyes open. “You can’t kill him.”
Pheolix halted. His shoulders slouched, but his body vibrated with rage. Fired metal beat throughout the room, the scent so sharp and hot it stung my nose. It blasted across my face in waves of vivid heat. “I don’t know how I can do anything else.”
“Look at me.”
“If I look at you, I’ll kill him.”
“Look at me.”
A knock came from the other room. Soft, muffled. We wouldn’t have heard it before, with all Emilius’s doors closed.
“Your Highness,” a voice called. “There’s an intruder in your rooms.”
“Look at me.”
Head cocked in defiance, Pheolix met my eyes. The anger twisting his features dissolved, alarm taking its place. Emilius dropped to the rug as Pheolix stood.
“You have to get us out,” I said.
“Your Highness!”
“Is there a secret exit?”
“Probably,” I said. “But there will probably be guards there, too. I don’t know where it would be.”
The sound of snapping wood made Pheolix fling his attention over his shoulder.
“I have a way,” he growled. “But I need both hands. Or at least one hand. I can’t carry you in my arms. Can you hold on?”
“Yes.” The lie was rough and dry in my mouth. I’d lost the feeling in my fingers long ago. Pheolix knew it, too. He frowned at me, thinking.
A loud thud, more wood splintering.
