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Sabain’s shoulders rose and fell in furious breaths when he locked his gaze on me. Another blast of mesmer and energy would fail too swiftly. With my gaze on his face, I unsheathed my blacksteel sword.
Sabain’s cruel eyes darted from my sword to the bloody ring in my hand. Instead of holding his ground, the coward spun on his heel and disappeared into the swarm of war. I cursed and lowered my sword, drawn away by the sweet sound of Malin’s laughter. She cheered alongside the Northern warrior, Frey.
I followed their line of sight to the Black Palace as Luca and Hob burst into a unit of skydguard beside the cooking room. They’d snatched Dagny from the inner palace, and now she fought at Luca’s side. Dagny swung a sword a little naively, but enough to get a few hacks into flesh.
The ground rumbled. Cobbles snapped out of place.
Not the worst Valen would do tonight, but the movement was meant as a signal they were in place. From atop the palace rooftop, Halvar cheered when Ari emerged from a back doorway that led into the cellars and dungeons. He’d never truly been trapped, but it was a relief to see his face alive and fighting.
The ambassador joined Luca and Dagny without a pause to catch a breath. Luca confused the guards with multiple projections of different Falkyns and Kryv, overwhelming the units so Dagny could impale their innards.
Ari fought with as much bloodlust, but his rage was pointed at one fae more than others. A woman. They grunted and crossed blades like it was a race to spill the other’s blood. It was a strange fight. Passion filled. Hatred and . . . more. There was more than rage in Ari’s eyes as he fought the woman.
Folk tried to flee into the palace, but the elixirs our false fae courtiers had previously set burst once people crossed certain thresholds. Shards of glass littered the courtyard, beams at doorways toppled, and thick dark smoke billowed from the palace, forcing people back to the masquerade courtyard.
“Luca!” Niall cried out, furious.
Raum struck him in the side of the head, and once Elise, Tova, and Eryka appeared, they went to work binding Niall to the posts of his dais.
Princess Signe slapped a long dagger against her palm, grinning and revealing two jagged fangs in her mouth.
“I must tell you,” Signe said to Niall, “I’ve decided I will not be taking vows with you.”
Eryka laughed with a bit of pride and linked her arm with her cousin, placing the girl on watch over Niall along with one of the Falkyns.
Malin leaned over my shoulder, her gaze on Niall. “You should learn the difference between your brother’s illusions and what is reality. Kase was never there in the grass. Then again, you did not truly have power over the Southern fae by then anyway.” Malin glanced at me, her eyes wild. “Those guards claimed fealty to Bracken?”
“The moment he showed his face they knew he was the victor.” I sneered at Niall. “He’ll be here soon for the rest. The fae did enjoy playing a new game against you, though. Made their attack look damn near believable even against illusions.”
“A thousand praises, Niall,” Malin went on, laughing cruelly. “You were utterly terrifying the way you described the torture he’d endure. Truly graphic, but the truth is you’ve never had control of this night.”
Elise shoved a dirty linen gag into Niall’s mouth when he opened it to shout his retorts at us. The queen beamed and spun a sword in her grip.
“Go win your kingdom!”
At long last, I claimed the moment, even the briefest pause, to crush Malin’s body against mine. She ripped off her mask and kissed me hard and fast. With her mouth to mine, I slid the bloody ring onto her finger.
I pulled back enough to whisper, “Hit your marks, wife.”
Shadows slithered off her skin like long serpents and hunted her victims. Southern warriors. Blood fae. Skyds. Nobles fighting too much. There were no prejudices when it came to her mesmer.
I watched with a bit of awe as her darkness coiled around dozens of folk all at once. They cried out as her mesmer slid into their heads through noses and ears, much like she’d done when she’d devoured the skyds in Skítkast.
What memories she was taking, I didn’t know. It didn’t matter. When Malin pulled the shadows back, the people she’d claimed looked around, confused and terrified.
Our warriors moved in and took the Southern fae, the skyds. Kryv and Falkyns hurried in and relieved the nobles of their weapons.
Blood stained the gaudy ribbons. Tables already lined with the feast were overturned, splattering the stones with glazes and syrups and ale. Folk tried to flee over the gates but were met with spiked fence posts shooting up from the soil. Ash, Hanna, Stieg, and Ellis had been particularly proud of those traps.
No one was leaving until every witness left alive saw the truth of Malin’s power.
The stun of the surprise attack faded. Skydguard units roared and attacked with fearsome strength. We’d cut down enough with our onslaught, their numbers were at long last more aligned with ours. The North, the Falkyns, and the Kryv took the upper hand quickly.
Black Palace Alvers tried to strike, but Hagen and Hanna were already blocking Rifters and Hypnotiks. It wasn’t long before the Alvers, the ones not so lost to Ivar’sförvirring, recognized this was a chance at freedom.
They turned their blades on the skyds and they fought alongside thieves and vagabonds.
Gunnar and Herja led the archers in a wave of arrows. From the stables, the border walls, the sloped rooftops of the palace, they herded the skyds toward the bridge connecting the main palace to the masquerade courtyard.
