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“Aye. Only then, when she is in her divine form, her most dangerous and most powerful, will the bindings that shield her be broken completely and she will be vulnerable to attack.”
The sword grew heavy in my hands, sliding from my slick palms before catching in my fingertips. The realization suddenly dawned on me—I could not fail. Every mission I had been on thus far had little consequence for anyone except myself. If I was unsuccessful, there was always someone else to take my place. But now?
“Well,” I breathed, propping my hip and leaning against the tip of the sword in casual indifference. “That raises the stakes a bit, doesn’t it?”
The door to the armory slammed open abruptly, sending a shudder through the weapons lining the walls. A group of watchers burst through, fresh fear in their eyes.
“What is it, Bastien?” the Grandmaster returned to his former appearance, stone cold and serious to the bone.
“Loren’s gone, sir.” A watcher stepped forward and addressed his leader, glancing in my direction to assess my reaction.
“What?” I asked. “What do you mean he’s gone?”
Bastien turned his face slightly to meet mine, the abhorrence plain in his face. “Your little friend stormed out of the sanctuary after your lovely speech. We let him go so he could cool off, but we haven’t seen him since. There’s also another problem…” He turned his attention back to the Grandmaster.
Evander ran a large hand over his face in distress as a low voice grumbled from his chest, “What else?”
“He took the leystones.”
19
West Mirth looked so much smallerfrom the sky.
The mountain came into view only hours after learning of Loren’s disappearance. From what Roman described to me, he was pissed when he left the sanctuary, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why or what triggered his outburst. The missing leystones also further complicated matters, adding to the already muddy understanding I had of the situation. If Loren had stolen them and brought them to the queen, then he was forcing my hand. We had no choice now but to destroy her before she escaped the mountain.
Roman clutched me closer from behind as he banked to the mountain’s western side, away from any eyes watching over the granite kingdom. He held me awkwardly, only touching me in the places he had to out of respect for his fellow watcher who had claimed me in every way except formality. A small legion trailed behind us, each carrying one of the dishonored in their grasps.
I led them to the breach in the mountain wall, the place where a fissure splintered through the granite and created a way inside. Just as I imagined, the break in the wall was located in a smaller mountain next to West Mirth. After nearly a decade of scouting the halls of the mountain’s belly, I had a pretty decent mental map of the place—one that would prove beneficial to our needs. We landed just above the fissure, regrouping on a cliffside carved into the mountain and dwarfed in the great peak’s shadow.
“All right,” I said as the rest of our party found their feet on the rocky plateau, “the fissure is small. But Roman said he could easily break it open a little more so we could slip through.” At my announcement, Roman did just that. He eased along the narrow ledge leading to the crack, placing his hands along the opening to allow his magic to work. The granite popped and crumbled beneath his power as he created a larger entryway.
While we waited, I fidgeted at the new leathers I’d acquired before we left Estelles, the bleached armor was a stark contrast to the black I’d worn my whole life. It was…different wearing white, like another person donned my old skin. The color left me more vulnerable, like every move I made was under scrutiny. But I had to admit, they were nice. The leather was soft and flexible, and the pale color scheme matched the sword sheathed in its golden scabbard perfectly. The golden crest of the Divine was sewn with gilded thread upon my right deltoid, symbolizing not only a change in attire, but a change in allegiance. A shift in my identity.
I turned back to the group waiting for further instruction. “Right, so the breach leads to an old training room which hasn’t been used in over a decade, so there’s no chance someone will stumble across us way down here. I was thinking we could smuggle some of the children into the room while Roman and I searched for Azriel.”
“We came to help you any way we can, Huntress. Just tell us what to do and consider it done.” The watcher named Warren stepped forward. He was tall, domineering, and the dark violet of his wings made him appear a little more ominous than the rest of his kind.
“Thanks, Warren, although it might be a good idea if the watchers aren’t the first faces the runners see. You might scare the blight out of them,” I said with a gentle smile. He nodded in understanding and stepped back slightly. I turned my gaze toward the mountain leering above us and pointed at the peak. “The queen’s court sits in the upper chambers of the mountain. That’s where Roman and I will head to find Loren and Azriel.”
I lowered my hand and looked back at the group, who waited quietly for my orders. “It will be much easier to slip by the guards if it’s just the two of us, but you all will be busy assisting the dishonored with the evacuation. If Loren has given her the stones and set her free, and if I fail in destroying her, our next best move is getting these children out. We cannot leave the runners under her feet after she gets her powers back. Evander—sorry, the Grandmaster—has already sent carriages manned by the watchers this way, so we can use them to help the children escape and protect them from the vampyres.”
A hand wrapped around my shoulder, interrupting my rambling and grabbing my attention. “Arya, they understand the importance of saving the kids. They will get them out, don’t worry about the runners,” Roman said in a soft voice behind my back. “We need to go now. Gods knows what she’s doing to Azzie as we speak.”
My heart broke at the mention of his name so affectionately spoken by his companion. Azriel meant so much to me, but he also meant equally as much to many others, only heightening the stakes and making our mission all the more critical. I nodded, placing a hand on the handle of my blade. The texture of the bone carving soothed me, giving my flesh a sense of power and protection. “You’re right. Let’s go then.”
Navigating my old stomping grounds was nostalgic in a way. It was the only home I’d ever known. The narrow passageway crawled through the heart of West Mirth, intersecting other halls as we spiraled toward the peak, carefully avoiding the instructors making rounds on their classes. Roman followed closely behind, tucking his wings tightly against his backside, but every time I glanced behind us, stray feathers lingered along our trail.
“Roman!” I said in a loud whisper, finally having enough of his amateur sneaking skills. I snatched a stray feather floating in the space between us and threw it back at him, where it lightly skimmed his face despite the force of my throw. “You’re going to give away our presence with yourmolting!”
He shrugged innocently. “I can’t help it, I’m anxious.”
I rubbed a hand wearily over my own tired eyes and sighed quietly. “Get it together or you’ll be bald before we reach Azriel. We’ll need every one of those precious feathers to fly him out of here.”
Voices whispered around the corner, and I pulled him to the side of the stone wall, flattening our backs against the rounded tunnel. My gaze darted the length of the hall, searching for some point of entry we could hide behind until I found one. I tugged him along, crossing the narrow hall and ducking inside the unlocked door leading to an old storage room. I left the door barely cracked behind us, listening to the whispers grow into a full conversation beyond the threshold. There were only two voices interchanging.
“…showed up just last night. We thought he was dead, but it seems our latest chosen keep rising from the grave.” The first voice was familiar, but my memory had a hard time placing it. I remembered every face I’d even glanced at, but voices were tricky. They changed with emotion, authority, and perspective.
“Doesn’t mean a thing. I still don’t trust him. He’s been with those bastards for weeks—”
