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“But I—” I’m unable to ask her a thing because she’s gone, rushing around Beatrix’s house in her heels.
I glance back, and Proll is tucking Alora into their car. He runs to the trunk and pops it open, and when he emerges, he has a large axe-like weapon in his hand. The blade is gold, shimmering from the light of Beatrix’s house. The two other guards grab theirs and follow Proll behind the house. Silvera chases after them.
“No, Silvera! Come back!” But she’s gone. “Shit.”
I can’t sit here. Everyone is back there. And I have guns. I can probably help. I pull out the handgun at my waist and rush to the side of the house. I don’t run to the back, despite hearing the metal of swords clashing, men grunting, and more gunshots. My heart beats wildly in my chest as I pass a window. I look inside, and gasp when I spot Beatrix lying on the ground, a pool of blood beneath her.
“Oh my God!” I run to the porch and grip the doorknob, but it’s locked, so I kick the door in. It takes me two attempts before it swings open, dangling by the hinges. I rush to Beatrix, dropping to my knees. Her eyes are open, but she’s staring blankly at the ceiling.
“What happened?” I ask, panicked.
“I’ve been stabbed,” she croaks.
“Where? Let me take a look.”
Beatrix winces as she lifts a hand and points to her rib.
“Who did this?”
She uses that same bloody hand to point toward her back door. The back door is wide open, and I see Rowan fighting someone in all black with a hood. Two other people in all black are out there, fighting Proll and the other guards with long, silver bladed swords.
“The blue vial,” Beatrix says. “On the shelf.”
“What?”
“The shelf,” she says again, pointing. I look where her hand is pointed, and on the shelf is a collection of vials, all in various colors.
“The blue?” I ask.
She nods, and I rush across the room to grab it. When I bring it back, I pop it open and she takes it from me, chugging the liquid down rapidly. Some of the blue liquid dribbles out the side of her mouth. Her hand falls with the vial as she sucks in a breath, then she exhales, looking at me. Reaching for my cloak, she clutches a handful of it, reeling me closer.
“You must forgive me,” she wheezes. “I…I lied to you before. I felt I had no choice.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your Tether…it’s not meant to be carried alone.”
“Elaborate,” I demand.
“It’s…a gift, passed down from Regals.”
“Aren’t they the creators of Vakeeli?”
“Yes,” a voice says behind me. I glance over my shoulder, and Alora is walking into the house, a bow and arrow in her hand.
“There’s only one Regal left,” Beatrix goes on. “She can help you, but you’ll have to find her.” She winces. “No one has seen her for centuries.”
“Which Regal is she?”
“Selah,” Alora murmurs, crouching next to Beatrix. “Oh, Beatrix. Who did this to you?”
“He threatened to kill me. He knew I was meeting with you all today, and he’s trying to stop it before they find a way to reach Selah.”
“Stop what?”
Someone roars loudly, barging into the house from the back door. He’s in all black—a hood over his head, so I can’t see his face—and he comes charging toward us, a sword in hand. I realize he’s not coming for us—he’s going for Beatrix.
Fortunately, he doesn’t make it far. A gunshot goes off, the man in black freezes, and then he collapses on the floor, his sword clattering on the old wood.
