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Countless undead swarm out. I don’t know where they come from beyond the dark portal, but their masses are endless.
Golden light slams into a row of undead pouring out of the ghostly portal. Taria’s molten robes billow around her from the impact of her spell. King Agzol is with her, wielding a massive sword. Lightning hums across the blade. Whereas sparks ignite from Lhorok’s axe, full bolts surge from the Orc King’s sword. Agzol is almost as terrifying as Natharius in his demonic form. But his enemies aren’t capable of feeling fear. They’re already dead.
“Reyna,” Caya calls, the first to notice our arrival. “You’re back!”
Taria glances over at us. Not for long, though. An undead nears the priestess. Juron cuts it down with his shining sword.
“Find Arluin!” Taria shouts. “Leave the city’s defense to us. We have already destroyed one of their portals. We will soon close this, and then the rest!”
Though they’ve destroyed one death gate, many more are scattered around the city. Beams of white light pierce the night sky, and the streets are being overrun by undead. I pray Gerazad won’t fall like Nolderan.
King Agzol is too frenzied by the battle to notice us. His attention is fixed on a necromancer, and he sends shockwaves rolling through the earth.
“We must find your wife before the necromancers do,” I say, turning back to Lhorok.
Lhorok doesn’t need telling twice. He hurries away from the death gate, continuing through the streets. With every corner we turn, his pace becomes more frantic. As do his attacks. The closer we draw to his home, the more he must fear for his wife’s safety. Even if she is the Chief Stormcaller, this part of the city is crawling with undead, and each street is more overrun than the last.
“Here,” Lhorok rasps as we turn the next corner. “Our house is—”
The street comes into view, and the words die in his throat.
A strangled noise escapes me. I don’t even realize it comes from me until long after the sound bursts through my lips. My breaths come out like snarls, and blood pounds through my veins.
Before me stands Arluin. The man I hate most in this world. The man I have sworn to destroy.
Grizela, the white-haired necromancer, is beside him. An orcish woman lies dead at their feet.
Arluin raises his hand, examining the object he holds.
An iron ring.
thirty-eight
Lhorokroarswithanguishand fury. He falls to his knees, his armor slamming into the stone.
Arluin turns, and so does Grizela. A cloud of confusion passes over Arluin’s expression. He frowns at me, as if he doesn’t believe I’m really here. But he quickly smooths out the wrinkle of emotion.
“Reyna,” he says quietly, “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
My entire body shakes with uncontrollable emotion. For a moment, I’m returned to Nolderan. To the Aether Tower, where Arluin murdered Father. To the upper city’s cathedral, where I lay Eliya to rest inside a crystalline coffin.
I clutch my staff as if it’s the only thing keeping me upright. From falling to the ground like Lhorok.
“You,” I snarl, my words so thick with emotion they come out as hoarse breaths, “you stole everything from me!”
I can hear the pain in my voice, and I loathe how vulnerable it makes me. That Arluin can see how much he has hurt me. Yet I can’t hold my emotions at bay.
“I didn’t steal everything from you,” Arluin says. “I spared you.”
Blood drums so loudly in my ears I can barely hear him. “What you did,” I gasp, barely able to draw breath, let alone force out the words, “was no mercy.”
Arluin pauses, tilting his head as he regards me. “Then you would have preferred me to kill you? To raise you from the dead with your father?”
An animalistic growl rumbles in the back of my throat.
I hate him.
I hate him so damn much there are no words to describe the extent of my hatred. My muscles spasm with rage, unable to withstand the ferocity of my emotions.
