Page 125 of Crown of the Dunes

I had to find Prince Calix, for he was the one who could save Keera.

A scream pierced the air and my heart.

I spun around only for horror to paralyze me as I caught sight of Prince Calix at the top of the steps. Dangling from his hand, scrabbling on her hands and knees, was Keera. He held her by her hair, hauling her head up to look at the carnage before her, even as blood stained her chin, dribbling over her lips.

Her eyes were glazed over as if in pain, but cleared as she took in the carnage before her. Another feral shriek split the air as she saw the bloodshed, and she thrashed against Calix. Despite her weakened state, she nearly overbalanced him. He kicked her in the side, and she ceased her struggling, but the fire in her eyes only grew hotter.

“Stop, or the queen dies.” He shouted to be heard over the commotion.

The pitch of the battle lessened, letting Keera’s responding shout be heard.

“Keep fighting,” she urged. “Defend Kelvadan.” Her voice was a raspy croak, but I heard it nonetheless.

Still, the fighters around us hesitated. They did not lower their weapons, but the riders of Kelvadan and Prince Calix’s men faced each other in an uncertain standoff.

I took off, cutting through the suspended melee and running toward Calix. He would die where he stood. I would turn him into nothing but a bloodstain on the palace steps. I wouldn’t even need a sword to do it.

I hadn’t noticed Keera’s sword dangling in his other hand until he turned it toward her, resting the point under her chin. I skidded to a stop at the bottom of the short set of stairs leading up to where they stood before the palace doors.

A few short months earlier, I had placed the Champion’s circlet on Keera’s head in that very spot.

“Tell the riders to surrender, and I will give her the antidote,” he demanded.

“Don’t,” she croaked.

Calix cut her off by pulling her head back further, and her eyes rolled back in her head. Fire built in my veins, its heat dancing at my fingertips, but I tamped it down. I had surrendered to save Keera once before, but she was too stubborn to do it to save herself.

“These riders aren’t mine to command,” I shouted at Calix. “They answer to their queen and to their commander, not a prisoner like me.”

“I thought your commander might need more encouragement, since your queen seems intent on dying,” Calix drawled. “So, I made some other arrangements.”

He jerked his head, and two figures emerged from the shadowy passage behind him. Between them slumped a third, head fallen forward as he was dragged into the open, dark braids falling forward to obscure his face—but I recognized the golden beads.

An inhuman shriek of anger split the air just off my shoulder as Aderyn caught sight of Neven. She took two large strides forward, but I caught her with an arm around her waist as Calix dug Keera’s saber into her neck. Despite the fiery glint in her eyes, a whimper escaped her that was so quiet, I knew she had tried to stifle it, but it echoed in my head even louder than the chattering voices of the desert.

Neven raised his head, and a shuddering gasp of anger escaped Aderyn as he revealed a split lip and a bruised cheekbone.

“Don’t surrender to them,” he said.

Calix clicked his tongue. “You’re tougher than I expected for a weaver. But what if we make it so you can’t weave?”

The two of Calix’s men holding Neven threw him to the ground. With a nod from their prince, one of them grabbed his wrists, forcing his hands flat on the ground before him.

“No, stop!” Aderyn cried, breaking free of my grasp. She ran to the base of the stairs, and for the first time in my life, I detected fear in her icy eyes.

“Aderyn, don’t.” Neven looked up, meeting her eyes. His eyes were wet, and his voice trembled, but he soldiered on. “Don’t surrender this city to him.”

Then, the other man who had been holding Neven brought the hilt of his saber down on the back of Neven’s hand with enough force to sever it if he had used the blade. The wet crunch of bones shattering was drowned out in a split second by Neven’s howl of pain. A wave of nausea rolled over me as I took in the sight of his crushed hand—the end of several jagged bones poking through torn skin.

I had inflicted worse injuries in my day, but never on an unarmed man. Never on one who hadn’t raised a blade against me.

“Stop,” Aderyn sobbed. She held up her arms and let her sickle blades—wet with blood—fall to the ground with the clatter. “Riders, drop your weapons. We surrender this city to you.”

The sound of metal against stone echoed through the courtyard as the assembled riders followed her commands. Calix nodded toward the men who held Neven. They let him go, and he crumpled into a heap on the ground, clutching his mangled hand to his chest.

Out of the corners of my eyes, I saw Calix’s men gathering up the riders’ dropped weapons and forcing them to their knees with their hands behind their heads. One of them kicked a rider in the back, and he tipped forward, hitting his face against the stone ground with a pained grunt and the wet crunch of a breaking nose. Unarmed and surrendered, the riders were now at the mercy of Calix’s men.

Aderyn rushed up the stairs and scooped Neven up in her arms, a potent mix of anguish and rage written on her face. I took a few large steps forward, but I had still not dropped my broken sword. I would not stop braying for blood until Keera was safe.