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Lio tried to see the logic in that plan, despite how his Grace’s heart hammered on the other side of the tent. Mak’s presence beside her was Lio’s only hope of sanity. Auras of fire and water flanked the front entrance as Solia and Kella took their positions.
A cry tore through the night, coming from inside the tent. A human child, wailing as if its world were coming to an end.
Lio had an instant to feel a sickening sense of rage at the necromancer, before Solia signaled them with a tongue of fire. They charged into whatever the Collector had in store for them.
ALL A GAME
Ckabaar. The attack command hovered on Cassia’s tongue. She wanted to send Knight into battle and wreak her helpless fury upon the enemy. She needed to act to protect her Grace.
But the crying child could not afford any rash actions. Cassia forced out Knight’s guard command. “Barda!”
Mak charged into the tent ahead of her, his massive form moving with Hesperine agility. Cassia drew her spade from her satchel and followed with Knight watching her back. The necromancer’s shroud spells crawled over her skin and closed around her.
But she felt her Grace locked inside here with her. Lio and Lyros had burst in from the other side, Solia and Kella through the front.
The bloodless heart hunter knelt nearby, resting its shoulders across the lap of a Kyrian mage. Under her midwife’s cowl, Cassia recognized her face. Pakhne.
She cradled the undead’s severed head and sang a lullaby in the deep, mocking voice of the Collector.
At the sight of the sandy-haired soldier in the center of the tent, horror filled Cassia. Callen fended off half a dozen soldiers in Hadrian blue. His own comrades. His sword flashed in every direction, but they were faster. Stronger. Sweat plastered his sandy hair to his forehead, and blood leaked from a slice across his own blue tunic. Lord Hadrian’s men would never attack their own—unless they belonged to the Collector now.
Callen dodged, and Cassia saw through the melee to whom he protected. A young woman cowered at the back of the tent, clutching a baby. And on a cot beside her lay Perita. She was so still, her skin ashen.
No. Not Perita. If the Collector had taken her from Cassia…
“She’s alive!” Lio cried. “I feel her mind.”
“Has the Collector—?” Cassia asked.
“Pakhne is his only captive,” Lio said. “I won’t let him take anyone else.”
“Change the veils!” Solia’s command rang out over the clash of swords. “Reveal us to everyone but Pakhne. And show Kella and me to the Collector’s captive, too.”
“What?” Cassia cried. “No!”
“She’s right.” Lyros’s tone brooked no argument. “Let Solia and Kella be our diversion.”
Lio’s magic shifted over Cassia’s skin. There was nothing she could do to stop her sister from taking this risk.
Callen let out a shout of surprise, staring at them all with wide eyes. In that instant of distraction, a bloodless snaked under his guard.
Tilili pounced. She and Kella flew past Callen, knocking the bloodless aside. It regained its feet and pointed its sword at Kella instead.
Solia whipped her gladius from her scabbard and traversed into the ring of undead. Putting her back to Callen, she sliced off one undead’s hand and sent its sword clanging to the ground. Callen recovered quickly, turned away from her, and faced the enemy again.
“I need to get a ward around Perita.” Mak put himself between Cassia and the battle and urged her along the edge of the tent.
It took all her Will to leave Lio and Lyros facing off with Pakhne, out of her reach. Be safe, my Grace.
In a crouch, she circled the tent with Mak and Knight. As they went, Mak turned over each empty infirmary cot they passed to form a physical barrier between them and the battle.
From the other side came a cacophony of blades and shouts. A detached arm spun toward Cassia, its fingers flexing. She yelped and ducked. Mak tossed up another cot, and the arm slammed into it. They didn’t stop to watch if it clawed its way back to its body.
The whole tent was a haze of magic. Through it all, only Lio’s power was clear to Cassia. His pulse pushed back against the grasping spells of death. Mak pulled her along, and they closed the last distance between them and Perita.
But the young woman holding the child—surely Perita and Callen’s child—scrambled to her feet and blocked their path. Clutching the baby to her chest, she brandished the broken leg of a cot in a shaking grip. “If you want to hurt them, you’ll have to go through me!”
Cassia held up her hands. “We’re on your side!”
