Dropping my blade, I stepped away.
"In case you hadn't noticed," Ferris said, rubbing his throat. "You're bleeding."
Glancing down, I noticed blood pooling from my torn bracer. The blade had ripped it open, and I hadn't even noticed.
"Here." Ferris pulled a knife from his belt and sawed the bracer off. Yanking the cloak from his shoulders, he pressed it to the gash.
Adrenaline still pumped through my veins. I couldn't feel the pain. Blinking, I watched the blood soak the fabric.
Was that why my second spell had been red? Had I turned the blood of my catalyst into a spell of its own?
"You're crazy," Ferris breathed. "But you saved my father's life."
"There might've been more," I said.
Ferris' eyes flared, and he quickly tied the cloak around my arm. "Stay here," he ordered.
"Not a chance," I spat. "I don't trust you."
Sighing, he turned and jogged down the hall, and I was a step behind him.
The ballroom was empty when we returned, but I could hear commotion outside. Thunder shook the heavens again, shaking the very foundation of the manor. Ferris and I lost our balance and fell to our knees as the chandeliers hanging above the ballroom strained to break free of their chains.
"Saints," Ferris cursed, finding his feet. "Did Tirnanog itself just land on our heads?"
I thought I knew what he meant—violent storms surrounded the now-empty city, warding it from the world. Nothing like this had ever brewed in the skies above Tsuyan.
Violent winds tore in through the manor's open doors as we chased the commotion outside.
The king stood in the center of the promenade, staring up into the sky. I followed his gaze, shielding my eyes with my uninjured arm.
Lightning pulsed in the firmament, a brilliant violet. I'd never seen anything like it.
"Shit," Ferris breathed beside me. "This is no ordinary storm."
"Did the assassins cause this?" I asked.
"No." He shook his head. "Tirnanog really did drop on our heads." He turned his eyes toward the road. "Cierthine's wielder is here."
Chapter 10
Diar
Asharp voice snapped my gaze from above.
"Why are you standing around?" A tall man with short steel hair shouted above the storm. "Protect your king!"
"But, sir," a guard stuttered, gazing upward. "The Paragon?—"
"Killian can help look for the damned assassins," the taller man said, shoving the guard toward the king.
I quickly scanned his features: a fancy silver doublet, and matching features to Ferris.
That was the crown prince. If only I could remember his name . . .
The prince's pale-green eyes snapped onto us. "Ferris," he hissed, marching toward his little brother and grabbing him by the collar. "Where have you been?"
"Courting a lovely woman." Ferris smiled at me.
