A soft gasp cut through the musical clash of swords.
Nienna’s boot slid on a spill of gore. Her foot tangled in a coil of intestines. She lurched.
And the haze of battle shattered. My focus snapped to her pale face under the lantern’s weak light. This wasn’t her place. She had the right to be here, but she held no weapon. Beyond these walls, her dragons filled the night sky. She belonged in the open air, basking in their glory, not trapped in stone. Gods, she despised confinement.
She wrenched her foot free and stepped over the corpse. Blood and urine splashed beneath her heel. Our gazes locked. Fear flickered across her features before resolve, righteous determination, replaced it.
“Velli!” Greaves crowded my flank, warning in his tone.
The creature burst from the side corridor. He moved with unnatural speed, a man twisted into something feral. My soldiers flew aside as if weightless. Armor dented against stone with brutal force. Dark eyes fixed on me. He seized the soldierbefore me before he could so much as lift his blade. Filed teeth tore into his exposed throat. Crimson sprayed hot across the wall, and the Velli drank in a single violent pull.
Then he wrenched the man’s head free.
My sword rose, spear at the ready as I braced for impact. The creature lunged, power fueled by my soldier’s stolen blood. But he circled beyond my reach and darted past me, ignoring every strike from my men.
Cold fear pierced my chest.
“The queen!” I roared and hurled myself after him.
The tower shuddered. Dust rained from the ceiling as if something massive had crashed into it. A shriek thundered through the halls, deep enough to rattle bone.
I forced through the chaos, shoving bodies aside. A soldier in full plate slammed into me. I twisted to deflect him. The man scrambled, trying to right himself, but Greaves’ arm shot out, shoving him from our path.
Ahead, fingers closed around Nienna’s throat.
One squeeze. A single blink. Her life would vanish beneath his touch.
My spear left my hand before thought caught up. It cut the air and struck true; the impact snapped the Velli’s spine.
I reached him in the same breath. His grip loosened as I slammed him to the floor. My sword carved a brutal arc. Steel bit deep—and his head tore free in a spray of crimson. Blood burst across Nienna’s dress, warm and bright. Nerves still twitched in the severed neck as it rolled and thudded against her boot.
Claus lay at her feet. His own head hung by ragged strands of muscle and vein. Scarlet gushed over her boots in thick pulses. Grief struck hard enough to stagger me. I forced it down. I would mourn him with the others.
Nienna’s pupils swallowed the light, blown wide. A smeared handprint marred the pale column of her throat. Rage shookthrough me, my hands trembling with it. Greaves warned me—and he was right. Lynx should have stood here. She could’ve been killed.
She kicked the Velli’s head aside, then crouched and pulled her dagger from the creature’s wrist. The blade slid free with a wet squelch. She wiped it clean on her skirt and sheathed it before lifting her chin to meet my glare.
Not fragile. Not broken.
She wasn’t helpless.
A strange, grim satisfaction filled me. “Soldiers, protect your queen!” My voice resounded off the walls, and steel answered at once. Shields closed around her, a living barricade, a ring of protective metal.
We climbed again. Two more Velli met us in the upper halls. Each fell under blade and spear—their deaths a brutal tally. One less horror stalking this side of the Craggs. The last lunged from behind me. Greaves pivoted and relieved it of its head in a single savage strike. Hot blood cascaded down my neck and seeped beneath my armor, thick and sticky against my skin.
I did not slow.
At the final flight of stairs, the battle narrowed into a spiral of stone. I took the lead. Soldiers shifted behind me, left-handed fighters surging forward to keep their swords free against the curve of the wall. My spear hooked enemy ankles, dragging them off balance for my men to dispatch as they fell.
Then silence. It was over.
Bac stood alone at the top, framed by firelight, watching from his balcony as his city smoldered beneath him.
“Phares is burning,” he said. Hands clasped behind his back. Flame cast his bulk in a harsh silhouette. Wind swept smoke away from the tower’s crown and pressed Nienna’s dress against my armor.
“You brought this upon yourself.” My voice remained low. No grief awaited him. My words carried sentence and blade—damnation before the executioner’s blow.
My fist tightened around the spear as I wrestled my options: keep him breathing and tear answers from his flesh, or end him here.
