Page 70 of On Brutal Thrones

“There.”

He pulls a spear free from beneath a golden staff. It’s nearly as tall as he is, with a narrow golden point and a solid shaft that gleams beneath his hands. He braces it, gives a quick thrust into the empty air, then grins.

“Oh, I like this.”

“Tremendous,” Talon says. “Fenric has fallen in love with a stick.”

“It’s a spear.”

“A very impressive stick.”

“Find your weapon.”

“I already did.”

Talon reaches down and lifts a golden sword from among the weapons. The blade is slightly narrower than Thorian’s, and he turns it once in his hand before giving it a quick swing through the air.

“It’s not as big as Thorian’s.”

His grin flashes. “It’s not the size of the weapon that counts, it’s the thrust of the blade.”

I roll my eyes, but laugh.

Then I see it. At the far end of the weapons, nearly hidden beneath a bow, sunlight catches on a small golden blade. A dagger.

I hurry toward it.

My fingers close around the hilt and warmth rushes into my palm.

I freeze.

The weapon is small. Smaller than almost everything surrounding it. Once, I might have looked at all these swords and spears and thought choosing a dagger meant choosing the weakest weapon. I don’t anymore, because this is a weapon I know how to use. More importantly, I’m learning that power doesn’t always look impressive.

I remove my old dagger and slide the golden dagger into my sheath.

“Nyx.”

I turn.

Thorian stands at the edge of the clearing with his new sword in hand. Fenric has his golden spear, and Talon has his sword in a new sheath at his waist. Beyond them, the path I created still glows through the towering plants. But it’s flickering.

My stomach drops. Is my power already fading?

“Time to go.”

We run.

The golden path flickers beneath our feet as we leave the clearing behind, and I pour everything I have into keeping it alive. The far edge of the field is visible now, a dark line of trees beyond the towering stalks.

We’re close, but not close enough.

A branch snaps somewhere ahead.

I jerk my head up. “Wait.”

Green light flashes between the flowers.

“Down!” Thorian shouts.