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He squinted into the smoke.
“There!” Graeson said before running forward with Kalisandre clutched against his chest.
All around him, people screamed, shouting at each other, at nothing, at the thick smoke and flames filling the room. The Frenzian guards were piled against the door as they tried to force it open. Behind them, babies cried in their mothers’ arms as fear filled the room. Children held onto their father’s legs, trying not to get trampled as other, more careless guests ran forward.
On the other side of the dais, Armen and Moris struggled against a flurry of guards. A circle of bodies stood paralyzed as Moris held out his arms. Moris, Graeson knew, could only keep so many people under his paralysis for so long. Moris’ face was already paling. The well inside him was emptying.
Graeson picked up his pace, charging forward, but he was so fixed on Armen and Moris that he didn’t see the man before he ran into him.
The man groaned. “Either my brother has neglected his duties as captain, or you are not where you belong, soldier.”
Graeson skirted to a stop as the King of Frenzia stood before him. His gold crown sat crooked on his head. Rian, having abandoned his guards at the door, dropped his gaze to the woman draped over Graeson’s arms. “Give me Kalisandre, soldier.”
But Kalisandre wasn’t Rian’s to take. The vows were incomplete. Kalisandre would never be the queen Rian wanted, the one who stayed in the shadows. She was born to bring the shadows to life.
“That was an order, soldier.” Rian’s fingers flexed over the hilt of his sword.
This man thought he could command me?
Graeson didn’t know if the thought belonged to him or the god, but either way, Graeson couldn’t help but laugh.
His attention flicked to Moris and Armen. They would need to hold out a little longer.
“That’s where you are mistaken,” Graeson said, handing Kalisandre to Terin. “No king commands me.”
Rian’s knuckles turned white, his face reddening as people nearby turned to look at the soldier who disobeyed the king’s order. But Rian was not Graeson’s king.
Graeson drew his sword, and with a swift turn, he swung. “Go!” Graeson shouted, and Terin ran.
Blades collided.
When Rian pushed back, Graeson spun, thrusting the king’s sword back and away from him.
Metal clashed against metal. Nearby, people screamed, and the smoke continued to filter in through the cracks.
When the king breathed, he wheezed, his throat raw from the smoke. Graeson had seen Rian run off to pry the doors open, but instead of making any progress, he only weakened his body.
Graeson struck, hard and fast, the blade swiping through the air.
Rian’s stance wavered, his lungs betraying him as he keeled over, coughing.
Graeson did not hesitate. When their blades met again, Graeson kicked Rian in the chest. The king flew back into the crowd with a grunt.
His crown fell from his head, and his hand flew to his side as he hissed out in pain. When he peeled his hand up, blood stained it.
“Brother, we need to get you to a healer.”
At the sound of Sebastian’s voice, the blood in Graeson’s veins turned into an icy river. Rage colored his vision as he imagined Sebastian’s hands on Kalisandre, the fear perspiring across her skin, the helplessness in her water-stained eyes.
Graeson took a step forward, his knuckles blanching as his grip tightened around the hilt of his sword.
“Sebastian,” Rian grabbed his brother’s wrist, “Kallie . . . they have her.Please,” he begged.
Before Sebastian could get up, Graeson ran.
Chapter58
GRAESON
