Page 186 of A Thief Among Fae

“No,” Desmond answers.

She raises her sword, the queen’s blood dripping down its tip. “Avedor is ours. We will slaughter you all as a warning of what becomes of our citizens when they don’t obey our rule.”

The fomorians holler and beat their chestplates.

“Let’s fight!” Brandur yells across the ballroom, flexing his arms back until his waistcoat’s buttons pop off. All the guests simultaneously realize that the only way out is to resist or die trying.

Magic bursts through the ballroom.

The marble columns crack from an earth-wielder’s magic, the chandeliers rock in a turbulent wind, and fire blazes. The fomorians charge the crowd, even as the earth-wielder cracks open a fissure and swallows several into the ground.

With the survivors rallied, maybe we stand a chance.

“Eldon’s gone. Let’s go,” Desmond says, but I grab his arm and stop him.

“We can’t let the fomorians take Avedor,” I urge him. “This is my home.” It feels wrong to ask him this when this is the same man who wanted to assassinate Avedor’s queen—the same man who was tortured by Avedoran guards, whose people have suffered under Avedoran rule.

It’s still my home.

I expect him to argue, or to pick me up and carry me out by force.

Desmond sighs. “The fomorians are collecting weapons from the fallen guards. We can fight them hand-to-hand for their blades.”

“No. We need magic.”

Masks have been thrown aside, gowns are torn short for mobility, and the elements rage. A fomorian shouts as a goblin’s sheet of ice freezes his boots to the floor. An animal shifter in the form of an ox charges, throwing a fomorian with its horns.

Any taste of victory is dashed when fomorian reinforcements storm in through the ballroom doors. Nullifying Gifts whip out, extinguishing fire, halting wind. A nobleman’s warding Gift fails, and his eyes widen just before a fomorian cleaves her axe through his chest.

With every scream and slash, we’re becoming surrounded by bodies.

I hold Desmond’s jaw, commanding his gaze to meet mine. “We need your Gift.”

He blanches. “A mask won’t be enough to keep everyone from knowing, Cynthia. There’s no going back if I do this.”

The thought terrifies me more than I want to admit. His Gift will be another cause for a bounty on his head. The rumors will spread as a horrific truth. He’ll be seen as a monster, not just feared.

I still nod. “I know. I’m terrified for you, but you’re our best hope. The guild members are still here. Gashil took Nikolai from us, and I refuse to let him take anyone else. But I’m not strong enough to stop him alone.”

“You are strong,” Desmond says with a gentle caress along my cheek. “You are strong because in spite of fear, you still hold onto your courage.”

A fomorian yells as his sword slashes toward me. Desmond pushes me out of the way and punches him, cracking his jaw. Before the fomorian can retaliate, Desmond knocks him out.

Then he glances at the balcony. His eyes widen, flashing with recognition. “Is that. . .”

I turn, and what I see stops me cold.

Maeve kneels atop the balcony before the lead fomorian female and bows her head. Then she kisses the female’s extended hand.

“Oh gods,” I whisper.

Finnian, Min, and Brandur run toward us, their masks gone. “How could she do this?” Finnian splutters, shaking his head in pained disbelief. “She’s been one of us for years.”

“Now is not the time,” Brandur growls. He balls his fists. “Traitors will be hanged, but first, we must survive.”

Sparks already crackle around Auri’s knuckles. “And to think my bet was on Rune.”

“It is always the ones you least expect,” Min gravely replies.