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The portal was gone.
Odessa clapped her brother on the shoulder, with an expression of pride.
“Well done, my love,” Gawain shouted to him from beside me.
Crescent gave a modest shrug.
A scream shattered the moment of success and we all looked to where the competitors fought.
One of the women–the one with the bright auburn hair–had fallen to the floor and was desperately trying to ward off a group of children pressing upon her. Her talon-hands were raised and she was slashing with all her might, but it was clear to see it would not be enough. She had no other weapon.
“Zephrae,” Odessa murmured. “Shit. She’s not going to make it.”
My eyes shot to Draven. He was already moving forward but as I watched, his mother the queen gave a shrill commanding cry and he froze, then turned back unwillingly.
He glanced up at where we stood in the seats and beside me, I felt Gawain spring into movement.
There was a spark as he passed through the shield Javer and Beks held suspended around us and then he was jumping down the rows, hoisting his mace and hurrying towards Zephrae.
“Too late,” Odessa murmured sorrowfully from beside me.
She was right. I watched as a child gripped Zephrae by her long beautiful feathers, pinned her head back, then lowered their mouth to rip out her throat.
Gawain roared in anger as he reached the woman. Over and over his mace sped through the air, ending the children who had fed upon her.
The chaos was slowly dying down.
Zephrae was the last Siabra to fall to the horde.
With a crunching sound, I watched as Avriel crushed a child’s skull in his bare hands just as Draven decapitated another. Both men were covered in dark, thick blood.
The blood of the already dead and damned.
Beside them, Lyrastra, wiped a trickle of fresh blood from a cut on her cheek. She looked fierce and deadly. A true contender for the throne.
The Queen Regent stood behind the three of them looking pale and shaken. She had done nothing to protect herself, I observed.
As the last of the children fell, I watched Azriel–not Draven–rush to her side and take her arm.
“Shield down, Javer,” Odessa said briefly, and then she squeezed past me and ran towards the door, Gawain following her and Crescent close behind.
I watched as they spoke, then Crescent raised his hands.
What was the opposite of a portal? Was that what Celeste had done to the doors?
Slowly, the massive double doors opened. A squad of guards stood in the hall, faces frightened as they peered inside, their spears raised.
The Queen Regent glided towards the doors, calling instructions in a regal tone. Evidently, she had already recovered from the attack.
Behind her, the remaining Siabra were rallying impressively. I could already hear titters of laughter and see smiles on some faces. Sure, the smiles were strained and the laughter rather obscene–but evidently the Siabra were preparing to pretend that the invasion and slaughter in their throne room had been simply a dramatic blip in an otherwise pleasant evening.
I stared as nobles and courtiers followed the Queen Regent in an orderly fashion from the room, leaving the bodies pooled in blood behind them, to be cleaned up by guards and servants no doubt.
A hand touched the small of my back very lightly.
“Shall we go?” Draven’s breath was warm on my neck. He was standing very close. “Sorry. I’m a mess.” He stepped back a little.
I could smell his scent. Musk and blood and sweat. Despite my best efforts, my body was responding to him with an odd hunger. To my horror, I realized I was aroused. Aroused by this man covered in blood, fresh from battle, with his naked blade still gripped in his hand.
