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Instead of a knock at my door, the knob twisted and the door opened, revealing King Windre and his annoyingly cheeky smile.
“Can I assume that means your meeting is over?” I lifted my head from where it rested against the backboard.
“Indeed, and Randsin wishes to be alone, so you’ll have free rein of the castle for a bit.” He tossed me the key to my cuffs.
It landed in my palm, still warm from his pocket. I reached up with my free hand, making quick work of the lock. My hand fell from the handcuff, the metal banging against the wooden post. The mattress had conformed to my body as I lay there watching Red in silence. I dropped my feet off the side of the bed, still able to see the impression of my legs on the blankets.
Off in the distance, a bell rang, frantic and loud. King Windre tensed at the noise, rushing toward the window. His eyes scanned the courtyard. Outside, Red heard the noises too, and she sat up, looking about.
“What does the bell mean?” I asked.
“It means someone has made it past the guards at the gate.” King Windre paused. “Do you think your friend Barthalow has finally decided to pay us a visit?”
I swallowed, looking from him down to Red, her head had stopped its swivel, frozen as she squinted at figures approaching the gate.
“Give me your fucking sword,” I hissed.
“That does seem like a good idea. Here.” He opened his robe and pulled out the long sword from its place at his hip. “I’m assuming you know how to use one of these.”
“Yes.” I snatched it from his hand and pushed past him to head to the courtyard. “Shouldn’t you be doing something?” I tossed over my shoulder.
“Oh, I’m going to have my archers at the ready.” He gave one final look out the window before peeling himself away. I didn’t stay to watch what he did. I only prayed he’d give the command to shoot to kill.
Hallways became a blur as I sped through them. I only knew them well enough to get where I needed to be and get out when I needed a quick escape. My feet carried me through my memorized route out to the courtyard.
My lungs took in the warm, crisp air. My gaze landed on Red. Her book had been tossed aside, the pages bent and folded on themselves, the spine facing the sun. She had no weapons on her besides her signature scowl and the powers she possessed.
Her magic would be nothing against Barthalow. He was persistent, unyielding, and not entirely alive. I’d seen him continue a fight, even as he bled out from wounds that shouldn’t have allowed him to stay upright. Her wind would be nothing more than an afternoon breeze to him.
I looked past her, finally setting my eyes on the man who was never welcome here. Barthalow was covered in scars and unhealed wounds, as I’d always remembered him to be. One arm hung at his side, dragging his own pointed sword with its infamous bronze handle. Blood dripped off the blade, trailing in thin lines on the grass.
Then I registered the figure next to him. His other hand was occupied dragging a woman by her delicate blonde curls. Her face was scrunched in pain, her gaze fierce and angry above the gag tied around her mouth. She fought against him, trying to slow his every step, but he pulled her forward, unfazed.
“Eydis?” I called finally, stumbling fully into the sun.
Red whipped around to look at me. Her jaw was open in surprise. “This is Eydis?”
There wasn’t time for a casual response. Or even a casual thought. “Barthalow, no!” I barked, rushing forward with the sword heavy in my hand. He surged forward, lifting his weapon as he zeroed in on Red.
Time moved without any sense, everything happening in slow motion that allowed me to take it all in, yet going so quickly that there wasn’t time for me to do anything about it.
As my scream fell from my lips, Red threw her fist up in the air, clenching it. Air blew her silky strands of hair up off her shoulders. The breeze didn’t reach me. She ripped the oxygen from Barthalow’s lungs, momentarily slowing him.
Barthalow barely needed to breathe. A sad fact I knew from the many times Fae had attempted to drown him. Red needed to run. Even as I thought it, I knew she wouldn’t.
“No, Red,” I huffed as my feet beat against the ground. “Run!”
There was too much distance.
She was too far away.
Barthalow tossed Eydis to the side with such force that her head smacked against the ground and bounced once before she crumpled into a ball of tattered skirts. His sword-wielding hand slashed through the air, cutting across Red and through her as she tried to turn away.
At my side, another set of footsteps was quickly approaching. In my heart, I knew who had stumbled out behind me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look. Couldn’t bring myself to fight against the pain of my orders. Who else could it be, running with such ferocity, other than Randsin, at the sight of his mate tossed to the ground like a ragdoll?
“Give me the sword, Milo,” I heard the sliver of his voice crawl inside my mind.
If I turned to acknowledge him, if I let myself become physically aware, I’d plunge the sword into him. Red needed me now, she needed me more than I cared to wrestle with the pain of my oath. I flung the blade down to my left, letting it bounce against the earth. It only hit the ground for a millisecond before it was scooped up in his grasp.
