The man I was working on suddenly took in a shuddering breath—his last, making me realize I was too late.
My teeth were clenched in both sadness and anger at what our reality had become. My magic was already draining, and I could barely focus enough to heal others as I worked to do the same for myself. And there was still an entire gods-damn war raging outside.
I stepped away from the cot and fixed my face into neutrality. When I turned to the other healers behind us, all I found were desperate eyes locked on me, pleading for help without the words.
“I have this side of the tent,” Finnian stated. “Do what you can.”
Injured soldiers and unconscious bodies were piling in with each passing second. “Mother of the gods,” I breathed, then I went to work.
Chapter seventy
Elianna
As I raced downthe several halls and staircases of Castle Isla, it became abundantly clear that Idina had exasperated nearly all of her armed guards within the city to aid her in the war, likely using Azenna and the crone as her only source of protection.
It didn’t matter, though; I would get my sister out of here, even if I had to trade her capture for my own. I would think of a way out of it—I always did. Her safety was what mattered, and after watching Idina use her own daughter as a shield, I no longer trusted her not to harm my sister.
It wasn’t until I came barreling around the corner of the main staircase that I came face-to-face with two patrolling guards, eating my own words.
“Shit,” I said under my breath as I unsheathed my sword.
“You!” one of them yelled in my direction as they both withdrew their own weapons.
“Come on, gentleman, we all know this won’t end well for you,” I taunted them.
They glanced at each other and laughed. “Solus, you look beat to shit. Save yourself the trouble of healing more andcome with us. The queen will be delighted to see you.” The male’s smile was malicious, earning a snarl from me.
“If you’re afraid…you could’ve just said that.” I winked and then charged.
I ran at them full force, one of their blades instantly clashing with my own. As the other moved to attack, I pivoted my body and kicked him in the chest, sending him flying backwards into the wall.
Twisting back to the other, I lunged forward, slicing my sword through the air with precision, and our blades met the other’s each time. The guard reacted swiftly, parrying each strike, working to corner me. The clang of metal echoed through the corridor as our swords collided.
The next moment, the other guard was at my back, ready to strike. I dodged his attack, weaving between each of their swinging blades.
I disarmed one of them with a swift maneuver, sending his sword clattering to the marble tile beneath our feet, and didn’t waste a single second before plunging my own blade through his gut. His eyes flared in shock as blood trickled from his lips, beading down his chin.
A whipping sound of the other’s swinging sword echoed through my ears—fuck. I quickly lifted my boot, pressing it against the dying guard's torso, and ripped my blade free from his body. I pivoted just in time to send my sword straight through the other's chest. The momentum of his swinging blade faltered, and it dropped to his feet.
I held my weapon in his chest and watched the light leave his eyes as I worked to catch my breath. His body droppedto the floor with a thud, his blood pooling around both of them.
“Gods,” I breathed, chest heaving, as I glanced around the halls, making sure no one else had come from the commotion. Re-sheathing my sword on my hip, I took off in a run down the main staircase, leaving their bodies in my wake.
My once silent steps now echoed off the marble floors as I neared the closed doors of the throne room. I abruptly halted before them, and the sound of my blood droplets hitting the tile filled the otherwise quiet halls as they fell from my wounds.
As I stood there, I realized that everything in my life had built up to this very moment, and now it was finally here. Where I would make my final stand against the wicked queen for all she had done to me and my people. In this moment, I felt no sorrow or ache in the name of what I had lost. All I felt was fury-driven determination.
Gaze fixated on the elaborate door handles, one of my hands reached out for it as the other reached for the hilt of my dagger. I pulled the door open with all my might, my anger nearly pulling the heavy door from its hinges right before it slammed into the wall.
I stormed through the arched doorway, covered in the blood of those guards, and was met with two pairs of malicious eyes. The queen sat on my father’s throne, glaring at me through knitted brows as the High Witch stood before the dais, arms crossed, while giving me a knowing grin.
My feet continued to carry me through the throne room until I stopped in its center, breath heaving at the sight of her, sitting where my father once had. Our eyes remained locked on each other.
“How dare you,” I seethed, lip curling back ferociously. “How fucking dare you sit where he once did? Where the rightful Valderre ruler should be!”
My voice bounced off the walls of the room, and I was answered with a cruel smile from the false queen.
“How lovely to see you somehow made it past our wards, Elianna,” Azenna greeted.
