Page 199 of Blood Curse

“Fight the hands,” I said. “The order said seize. It said nothing about your feet.”

His boot scraped backwards.

I released him and he threw himself away from me. The pale band snapped him forwards again, but the stolen distance bought me another second.

Others heard.

The woman planted both feet while her upper body strained in my direction. Elias hooked one ankle around the chair leg. Two vampires gripped each other and pulled opposite ways, turning the Crown’s strength into a useless knot of limbs.

It wasn’t pretty.

It worked.

I reached the edge of the dais.

Bryony remained in the silver chair, one hand clenched around the dagger and the other locked on the armrest. Red light braced her wrist before the broken point could cut deeper. Her mouth was open, but the Crown had trapped her voice somewhere behind her teeth.

Her eyes met mine.

Still here.

I knew.

Mara’s chair leg cut through the air behind me. I ducked. It missed my head and caught my shoulder with enough force to drive me to one knee.

Pain flashed down my arm.

Six vampires rushed the opening.

I tore the broken table onto its side between us. Bodies struck the wood. The table slid over the stone and crushed me back against the dais.

Hands reached over the edge.

I knocked them away one at a time. A wrist, a thumb, an elbow. Enough pain to break a grip without breaking the person attached to it.

The table shuddered under another impact.

Behind me, Bryony dragged in a breath.

“I…”

The Crown closed her throat.

Her fingers loosened around the dagger.

The blood-dark bundle began to slip.

I could take it. The blade was inches from my hand, and every part of the curse expected me to reach for the weapon made for my heart.

Instead, I caught Bryony’s wrist.

Her pulse pounded against my palm. I pushed the wrapping back into her hand and closed her fingers over it.

Her eyes widened.

The Crown tightened her arm, expecting me to fight for the blade. I left it exactly where Bryony chose to put it. Her smallest finger curled around the cloth after my hand was gone.

That movement was hers.