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Ro
Guards suddenly appear in the doorways of the rooms as if they’ve been there the whole time, waiting for Zarid’s command.
Three guest suites, the tactical office, and the library are full of men.
I do a quick headcount.
Thirty that I can see, but crowds are clustered behind the leaders in front. The dark outlines of their heads are shadowed by the suns shining through the windows at the back of the rooms.
It could be fifty. Eighty. A hundred.
All the guards are wearing the Day Realm palace guard uniform. Khaki pants. Nice brown boots. White tank tops with racer backs to allow for wing release. Many of them are holding long spears. Others have axes, swords, or machetes.
“Some more intel,” I whisper to Kai. “I know for a fact that they only have one weapon each. Zarid made that rule out of pure vanity. He didn’t want his staff to appear cluttered.”
Meaning, Zarid didn’t want his men to look like rough, uncivilized warriors.
Like Kai.
“That helps,” he responds, sounding surprisingly unconcerned.
“How are we going to get through this?”
“One head at a time.”
“You’re going to take them on? All of them?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure you can do it?”
“Don’t start doubting me now, my queen.”
Without glancing at me, Kai advances on the closest guard in the nearest doorway. He easily dodges the spear the man tries to impale him with, then with one swing of his blade, his opponent is beheaded.
Kai’s sharp sword cuts through sinew and bone like butter. Blood sprays as the body slumps to the floor in a crumpled heap, and the head rolls somewhere off to my left.
I gape at the lifeless eyes staring blankly up at me.
It’s a little too close for comfort, and I back up until my spine is pressed against the wall at the end of the hall.
Kai is already onto his next target. Another head gets separated from a man’s torso.
Then there’s a third. A fourth. And a fifth.
On and on it goes.
One head at a time. Kai was being literal when he said that, and the corridor is filling up with corpses.
And blood. A lot of it.
You never realize how much blood a person holds until it’s pouring out in front of you.
Kai has taken down at least forty men, and a river of red is growing on the floor. The glossy liquid expands, coating the stones and filling any cracks.
It spreads so much it reaches me, and I grimace when it soaks the satin of my slippers. The hem of my dress is next, and the red slowly overtakes the yellow as my gown gets saturated.
I tell myself it doesn’t matter. I was already covered in Kai’s blood anyway.
