I didn’t need to reach ten.
“Fool,” I hissed, already moving.
Against the gray stillness, a flicker of blue flared. Ronan bounced a gleam of flame between his palms, its light catching on Nienna’s mantle and painting her in cold fire. A hulking man stood at her side, broad shoulders etched in shadow, backlit by the warm glow spilling from the hall that led toward the Heart of Sol.
Every Velli with working eyes could see them.
Cursing each thunderous step, I launched for the stairs and began my ascent. My armor betrayed me, ringing against stone. They stood out like a white stag beneath a moonless sky, luminous and doomed.
My chest split with each lungful. Air scraped my throat raw. By the time I cleared the eighth level, my lungs burned as though I had swallowed flame.
“Kal!” Greaves gasped.
An echoing laugh rolled through the stone at the same breath. It ricocheted along the circular walls, thin and sharp, needling my spine. The sound mocked every labored step, taunted the drag of muscle and metal, delighted in how slowly my human body climbed.
Air would not fill my lungs enough to shout a warning for Ronan. If I heard it, he did too.
With a snarl, I seized the railing and swung my legs over the safety bar toward the hundred-pace drop. Wind clawed at myface. My boots struck the metal grate of an elevator platform with a jarring clang that rattled my teeth. The impact shot through my knees. I caught the thick cable that held it aloft, leather biting into my palm.
Behind me, Greaves swore and leapt. His sword flashed in a tight arc. Steel kissed rope.
The counterweight line parted like thread, and the elevator lurched, then shot upward.
The force crushed me to the grate. My armor dug into ribs and hip, breath punched from my chest. The cable sang in my hand, vibrating like a plucked harp string.
One level.
Two.
At the count of three, I pushed off.
My body flew. The jump lacked grace, too heavy, too late. I cleared the railing by inches and hit the stone in a clanging tumble. My elbow smashed down, pain flaring white, yet the golden armor cradled the blow, dispersing it through hammered plates.
I rolled once and forced myself upright.
They would not have Nienna.
They would not.
My toe clipped the uneven seam of the floor. Momentum pitched me forward. I caught myself and drove toward the shouting ahead. The Velli had already reached them.
They moved too fast. And I—too slow.
Greaves kept pace beside me, shoulder brushing mine as we charged. Ronan flung a wall of blue fire around their bodies. Flame roared up in a twisting column, heat licking high. The Velli did not hesitate. They reached through the blaze, skin blistering, and clamped onto Ronan’s forearm. He tore free with a vicious jerk of his dagger, fabric ripping, the reek of scorched flesh thick in the air.
One blur.
Then another.
Only two.
If we didn’t hurry, more would come. Too many for even me.
Nienna stood behind the hulking man and her brother, spine pressed to stone, mantle bright against the gloom.
At least she had that sense.
A dragon’s roar ripped through the mountain, deep and bone-shaking. Instinct took over as I dove into the fray. Years of battle guided my arm. A blow glanced off my pauldron, and a second force hurled me sideways into Ronan’s flame. Fire skated along my armor, harmless. Heat shimmered in my vision.
