AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The injured man’s friend gives a wobbly nod and helps me drag him off to the side of the room. The man groans, which at least means he’s still alive.
I leave them huddled there and whirl to face the rest of the ballroom again, my hands clenched tight at my sides. Pain keeps spiking through my innards, but I can tune it out enough to keep going while I’m focused on the task at hand.
That cursed pipe fleece obviously does shit-all to dampen riven magic. The demanding power inside me feels just as potent as it always has.
Or would it be even worse right now if I hadn’t been drinking that tea yesterday and today?
Figures in blue uniforms have appeared near the doorway. Members of the Crown’s Watch and maybe other guards as well. They’re waving their hands around, but I can’t make out what they’re saying from here.
I dart onward and nearly bump into a couple of familiar figures.
Wendos is just spinning around with a swish of his shaggy hair to jab an accusing finger toward Romild. “What were you doing? I saw you.”
Romild stares back at him, her face pale except for a dribble of blood down her lower lip where it was either cut or she bit through it. “I— What are you talking about?”
I’d stop to find that out myself, but just then another half a dozen crystal splinters flash through the air farther ahead of me. “Watch out!” I holler, sprinting toward the dazed nobles in their path.
As I shove one of them out of the way, another lets out a grunt that sounds more like surprise than alarm. I brace for one of the shards to scrape over me, but no further pain comes.
When I glance around, the bits of crystal are pattering to the floor as if released by the invisible force that was directing them.
The soldiers are spreading through the room. A couple of them are close enough now for me to pick up the low, rhythmic chant they’re intoning. A wave of soothing magic rolls through my nerves.
It’s not meant for me, though. They must be doing something to subdue the daimon.
No more chandeliers shatter. The scattered wreckage that the furious spirits turned into makeshift blades doesn’t rise again.
“Everyone who’s uninjured, return to your dorms and quarters,” one of the guards calls out. “Clear the room so the medics can find those who need them.”
I cautiously ease upright, my gown fluttering around me. The gauze on my right arm was torn somewhere in the chaos; the flowing skirt is now flecked with scarlet as well as gold.
But other than a faint stinging from the shallow scratches on my forehead and wrist, I seem to have made it through undamaged.
I don’t know if I can say the same for anyone else who matters to me here. I pivot on my feet, scanning the unsteady nobles as they drift toward the doorway, but I can’t make out any faces I recognize now.
Before I can take more than a couple of steps back toward the table where I left Casimir, one of the soldiers blocks my path. She points toward the door. “Out of the room. Calmly but quickly.”
“I’m just looking for—”
“You can find whoever you need once you’re out of the ballroom. If they’re injured, the medics will take care of them.”
Not if they’re worse than injured.
The images of the fallen bodies flicker through my mind, but the soldier’s face doesn’t offer any room for argument. Even thinking about challenging her authority sets off a fresh flare of my magic’s internal assault.
I grit my teeth and bob my head in acknowledgment.
As I head for the door, I scan all the figures around me, but I reach the hall without having spotted Esmae or any of Julita’s men. My stomach knots.
It’s possible they got out ahead of me. Stavros could have already returned to his quarters.
He’s staff—if any of them know what’s going on, who was hurt and who wasn’t, it’ll be him.
The hopeful thought propels me through the jostling crowd and down the packed stairwell. I push out into the fourth-floor hallway and speed up to a jog, grateful that current noble fashion leans toward flat slippers rather than anything with built-up heels.
I press my bracelet to the carved door and then shove it open.
But as I tread into the dark room beyond, I can tell it’s empty. It doesn’t look as if Stavros has been in here since I left with Esmae for the ball.
