The clash of steel-on-steel rings through the long room. With a grunt, I lop off the head one of our adversaries, then shift and stab, shift and slice. They do the same. It’s a dance, in and out of existence, listening to the hum of the shadows and trying our best to foresee where our attackers will move next.
“Sunny-side up!” Warbill yells as he splits an elf down the middle, then dodges out of the way of the sunlight sword as it clatters to the ground and goes dim.
One of our men screams, but I don’t have the privilegeof time or space to see who it is. I focus on the warrior in front of me. The elf behind him. The strain on my muscles under Dawnbreaker’s weight. The hot, tacky grip of the hilt of my blood-drenched blade.
We are halfway to the exit and nowhere near halfway done with this battle.
Silver coats pour in through the narrow doorway at the end of the hall. Arrows fly. Bodies pile up.
“For Victus!” Warbill howls, slicing a man in half. He, at least, seems to be enjoying himself. But then, the man has decades of pent-up rage between his ears.
I signal to the men behind me, and they drop into formation, their shadows shooting across the room at ankle level. Blood spews as a dozen more soldiers topple off their feet. The shades will heal, but the elves are down. We behead one after another.
But we can’t save Levitous, who falls to an elf’s bright blade when he tries to form from shadow on the other end of the room. I channel my anger, driving through the next man and the next. Kick, slice, punch. Shadow out. Spin. Under. Stab.
The death goes on and on until we are finally through the door that opens to the Maiden’s Voyage…and find another legion of silver coats waiting for us.
ELOISE
Karyl doesn’t makea sound as we soar down the side of the mountain toward Aendor. I’m not even sure thatshe’s breathing. She’s strapped into Phantom’s saddle, her arms hugging the large bag of vials full of elixir from Dimhollow. The tension of her fingers on the burlap is enough to turn her knuckles white. A rucksack of her belongings is sandwiched between us.
“We’re almost there!” I assure her.
Strands of her hair whip against my face as she nods, eyes wide in the wind. Neither of us is wearing goggles, and I have to squint to see anything. Shades are not fragile like humans, but even they know the sandpaper feel of a wind-burned eyeball.
This is the first time I’ve had an adult ride with me. So far, I haven’t felt my magic weaken under her weight, but I’m not taking any chances. I’m leveraging my dragon’s wings for as long as possible, using physics rather than magic to carry us down the mountain.
Karyl’s accompaniment was nonnegotiable. She told me in no uncertain terms that she was coming with me once we finished the potion, and even her queen mother could not hold her back. Karyl had her bag packed and was on Phantom before I could tell her no. I don’t know where she found the bravery to do such a thing, but she was and is as determined as I have ever seen another woman. I hope that her example spurs Catarina and the other witches into action.
As for Nyx, she can stay in her ivory tower of snow, but she might soon find herself lonely there.
“Eloise!” Karyl cries, turning her head to look at me and pointing toward the red sand beach of Aendor that has just come into view. At first, all I notice is a blur of white and black, like an army of ants marching in the snow. Then I realize what I’m seeing. Silver coats!
“Hold on tight!” I scream into the wind, driving Phantom toward the clashing armies.
“What?” She makes a sound like a yip as my stomach drops out and Phantom banks over the water.
“You know what to do!” I say to Phantom.
“No! What do I do?” Karyl cries.
“Not you, Karyl! I’m talking to the dragon.” Phantom’s chest glows fiery orange, and we are enveloped in heat as we swoop in closer and closer. The silver coats don’t see us coming until we’re almost upon them, and by then, it’s too late. Fire pours like a stream of molten magma from Phantom’s mouth, incinerating dozens of silver coats into a pile of ash in seconds. Only when they run out of fire do we pull up and bank for another shot.
“Dragon!” The silver coats point at us and scream, their elf counterparts sheathing their swords and grabbing their bows and arrows off their backs.
“Oh hell!”
“What now?” Karyl asks.
“I wasn’t worried about the swords, but those arrows can kill us. Hold on tight.”
Phantom blows fire just as the elves release their arrows. We barrel-roll, maneuvering toward the ocean, dodging right and left until Karyl’s face is as green as the seaweed in the water. Somehow, we make it through and take out another hundred or so silver coats. The rebels cheer.
Something hot and wet slithers over my lips, and I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. Blood. I’m overusing my magic. “I have to land!” I say to her.
“Land? Where?” All around us, waves crest. Nothing but water. And a tall ship, straight ahead. I land Phantomon deck, thanking the goddess when it appears the ship is abandoned. I help Karyl off.
“What are you doing?” She points at the men on the shore. “The battle is still raging. We need to help them.”
