Lillivere steps through the parted ranks, cold satisfaction curling her lips. She plants her hands on her hips and appraises me.
“Maxine Morgan,” she says, her smile sharp as broken glass. “Finally.”
Chapter 37
Poker Face
E
Rain comes down in punishing waves, turning the forest into a slick, churning nightmare of mud, blood, and trampled ferns. Wind tears through the trees hard enough to bend branches, and thunder rolls overhead, as though Luther’s storm means to crush the forest flat.
I hide behind a tree, the rain too dense for me to move around unnoticed, and analyze my options.
I can’t fight them all. No, I need to wait for an opportunity to whisk Max away to safety.
But Nick…
Gods, this isn’t going to be easy.
I could wait for the Red Queen to leave. The battle is not over. They certainly can’t spare all these people to guard two prisoners. Once the odds work in my favor, I can strike.
The Sun Court knights carry a longsword and wear armor that looks ceremonial at first glance, too elegant to be practical, until you notice how seamlessly it moves with them.
Thin sheets of polished gold overlap across their torsos like sculpted scales, fitted close enough for speed without sacrificingprotection. Fine chain mail glints beneath the plates at the elbows, shoulders, and hips.
Their pauldrons sweep upward in graceful, winglike curves, while matching vambraces sheath their forearms, engraved with a golden cloud sigil.
The sight of it hits with nauseating familiarity. I can practically feel the smooth glide of polished gold beneath my fingers, the precise weight of the overlapping chest plates settling across my ribs, the way the fitted mail at the joints never pinches, never catches, crafted to protect against creatures meant to move faster than Fae or mortals ever could.
Long white cloaks fly in the wind behind them, immaculate despite the debris and mud.
Their helmets are ornate and angular, with long crests and narrow eye slits that erase any individuality, making them look less like men and more like a single gleaming breed of predator.
I remember seeing the world through one of them. The weight of it flattened my hair and narrowed my vision until all that existed was the slit ahead.
“And who have we here?” The Red Queen brushes Nickolas’s red hair out of his eyes. “Her Tidecaller boyfriend, perhaps?”
Her lips curve.
“Very nice.” Her gaze drags over him with open appraisal. “He’ll make a gorgeous addition to my stables.”
“Wait! There’s someone there!” one knight shouts.
Fuck.
Three knights pile toward me, seizing my arms as though they deal with invisible intruders every day. One catches my wrist, another hooks an arm around my neck, and a third drives a fist into my ribs hard enough to force the air from my lungs.
“There’s another one, madam,” one of them says.
He doesn’t call her queen. Interesting.
But then, he’s not her subject.
“Well, cut him. I want to see his face.”
“Yes, of course.” The knight squints at me, his cloak fastened with a golden sash. The leader. He draws a dagger and slices my arm, his blade coming away red, but he frowns.
“It’s not working.”
