A Queen This Fierce and Deadly (Kingdom of Lies)

11 LORIAN

“To your right!” a voice roared, echoing through my head until I spun.

A voice that made my heart leap into my throat.

A voice I’d thought I would never hear again.

I searched for him frantically, my gaze snagging on Rythos, who fought with brutal ferocity against two of Regner’s soldiers, his teeth bared, eyes alight with challenge.

But a third was approaching from behind. Next to him, Marth kicked out at one of the terrovians, burying his sword in another’s eye.

One of them crouched, preparing to launch at him, but he was already moving, slicing his way toward Rythos.

Ducking beneath a soldier who wielded both a mace and a shield, I slammed my foot into the side of his knee and slipped around him, slashing out again and again.

Time slowed to the barest crawl.

Rythos whirled. His arm was already coming up, too slow to parry the attack from behind.

Marth was instantly there. He swung his sword. But the terrovian hit him from the side, pushing him off-balance.

My own sword was already whistling through the air, and the terrovian’s head dropped to the stone, separated from its body. But Marth was too slow to meet the knife still aimed toward Rythos with his own blade.

So he met it with his body.

Rythos made a sound caught somewhere between a roar, a howl, and a sob. It echoed across the wall, until it seemed the fighting paused for the barest moment. He moved faster than I’d ever seen him move before, his dagger whipping out to slash the soldier in the throat.

Marth’s hand had already reached for the hilt of the knife buried in his chest.

“Don’t touch the knife!” Prisca screamed. She ducked around a soldier and crouched, slicing his hamstrings. He bent, already falling, and she ruthlessly kicked him in the ass, sending him careening off the wall.

My gaze met Marth’s. He was still alive. But the fae iron so close to his heart…

Rythos clamped down on Marth’s hand, preventing him from pulling the blade free—and bleeding out right here. “You know better,” he growled.

Marth slumped. Rythos easily hauled him up, cradling him to his chest. “They’ve overrun the city,” he said. “It’s time to fall back.”

I slashed my sword through the throat of a soldier who came too close and surveyed the city below us. Rythos was right. While we’d been guarding this part of the wall, Regner’s army had merely attacked the weaker points.

Siege ladders were clustered along the north and west walls. Even as I watched Rekja’s soldiers use what little power they had left in an attempt to bring them down…

It was far too late.

The soldiers had poured over the walls and were rampaging through the city. The screams carried over the clashing swords surrounding us.

We had bought the city as much time as we could. But now, we needed to ensure Rekja got out of here alive.

In the city at our backs, an Eprothan soldier dragged a Gromalian woman by the hair, a vicious smile on his face. Galon threw one of his daggers, and the soldier slumped, clutching at his throat as he bled out. The woman fell with him but didn’t hesitate, scrambling to her feet and running for her life.

“Take Marth,” I bit out. “I’m going for Rekja.”

Galon cursed. But he knew I was right. Marth needed a healer, and I needed to ensure the Gromalian king stayed alive.

Marth’s head lolled, but he raised his hand, pointing.

I spun, my gaze finding Rekja fighting on top of a battlement, Thora at his side.

Prisca darted close, lashing out at another soldier. But the Eprothan siege was a success. We’d saved as many lives as we could.

Galon’s eyes met mine. “You need to take Rythos with you.”

Rythos stared at Marth and opened his mouth, clearly torn. But his gaze shifted to Rekja, still swinging his sword, and he nodded.

If Rekja wouldn’t leave, Rythos would use his power to convince the Gromalian king it was the best action. It would kill a part of him to use his power on an ally. On someone he might one day have called a friend, but after everything we’d just learned about Stillcrest and Vicer and the carnage that had followed…

There would be time for him to face the morality of his actions after the war. If we lived long enough.

Rythos handed Marth to Galon. Marth let out a faint groan, more color draining from his face.

Prisca stared at him, her eyes filled with suppressed horror. My chest clenched. “You need to go with Galon, wildcat.”

Prisca scowled but didn’t argue. She’d turned her gaze to the soldiers pouring into the city, her knuckles white as she clutched the hourglass around her neck.

Galon squeezed my forearm. “I’ll get them out,” he vowed.

My throat thickened. Marth’s eyes were closed now. Would they ever open again? Or, like Cavis, would his fate be to die by fae iron to the chest?

Galon moved toward the stairs, slashing out occasionally with his sword, but conserving his power for later, when they would need to get to one of the tunnels.

Prisca gave me a final glance. There was nothing we needed to say. But I memorized her face. “I’ll see you soon.”

Her mouth trembled, but she forced it into a smile. “Soon.”

And then she was gone, guarding Galon’s and Marth’s backs.

Regner’s soldiers had learned about some of the tunnels. It was evident from the windows smashed in the buildings that housed those tunnels, the people lying dead nearby.

Likely, they’d followed some of the Gromalians who’d managed to escape and were killing them at this very moment.

Chills broke out across my skin.

We’d already marked the tunnel we needed. The tunnel that would take us closest to one of the healers Rekja had ordered evacuated long before Tymedes’s deadline.

Galon used his power again and again as we ran through the city. He flooded the river, sending it barreling toward a large group of soldiers intent on chasing several fleeing Gromalians. He poured water into mouths and eyes, leaving soldiers choking behind us as he strode down the streets he’d clearly memorized. He created waterspouts with so much pressure, they knifed through skin and flesh.

I strained, searching for my own power. All I found was a vicious headache. My hand tightened around my sword, and I guarded our backs against anyone who thought to follow us.

Galon’s arms were full with Marth’s limp body. And while one hand held his sword, I knew he wouldn’t risk wielding it unless he had to. Not with Marth defenseless and so close to death. Even Galon’s gait was smooth, ensuring he didn’t jostle Marth too much.

And so Galon drained his power, because mine was nowhere to be seen.

By the time we found the correct street, his face was gray. He leaned into the shadows of a brick house, panting. “I’m out.”

Helplessness tore at me. I couldn’t carry Marth. He simply weighed too much. And if I dropped him, the knife in his chest could find its way to his heart.

A choked sound echoed in my head. The sound Cavis had made when—

No.

If I didn’t focus, all of us were dead.

Around us, screams tore through the night. The soldiers had already begun sacking the city, and flames leaped in the distance, greedily eating through the homes and livelihoods of the people who’d lived here.

We needed to cross this street. And as we did, we would be perfectly silhouetted by the flames to our right.

“I’ll go first,” Galon said. “Wait until I signal you.”

It was smart, and I understood his reasoning. If someone happened to look down the street, he would be the only one seen.

At least at first.

Since I couldn’t contribute anything to our escape, I didn’t argue. With a final glance at me, Galon strode across the street, ducking down behind an overturned carriage.

I almost followed him.

But some sense I couldn’t define screamed at me.

I hesitated.

A woman sprinted past me, arms pumping, mouth gaping wide. Behind her, a soldier easily ran within touching distance, clearly enjoying the fact that he could catch her at any time.

My hesitation had saved my life.

The soldier grabbed her hair, and her scream became a choked sob.

Slowly, Galon began to lower Marth to the ground. He wasn’t going to have enough time. Everything went silent around me as I bent just enough to lunge forward from my toes.

I sucked in a deep breath.

Another soldier sprinted past. I hit the ground and crawled toward the shadows of a horse cart on the side of the street, silently begging the gods for just a little help. Just enough that he wouldn’t notice my movement out of the corner of his eye.

The soldier let out a wild laugh, and it was so out of place, for a second I didn’t believe I’d truly heard it. But the laugh went on and on. Because he was having fun.

Heat began to burn in my gut. My hand squeezed the hilt of my sword so tightly, it felt as if my bones might crack.

Slowing to a walk, the soldier said something I couldn’t hear to his friend. They both glanced around, and I froze like a rabbit, conscious of how little cover I had in these shadows.

I needed the element of surprise. I’d dropped to the right, and I could no longer see Galon. But he was likely readying himself to attack. If I just made it a little closer, I could take out the second soldier while Galon took the first.

And that was when I saw them.

Four children, huddled beneath the horse cart. The closest boy was pressed up against one of the wheels, his eyes almost as big as those wheels as he stared hopelessly at me in the dark.

My heart beat inside my throat. If the children made a sound, they were dead.

I held up one finger to my mouth, turning back to the soldiers.

The woman lashed out with a dagger she’d hidden in the hand at her side. It sank into the soldier’s gut. He didn’t hesitate. With a roar, he pulled the blade free and slammed it into her throat.

The world dimmed around me and did one slow spin. I blinked several times, as if I could clear my vision and undo what I’d just seen.

The woman was dead before her head thudded to the ground.

But so was the first soldier. He stared down at the blood pouring from his stomach in disbelief, slumping to his knees.

And that was why the blade would remain in Marth’s chest until a healer removed it themselves. I glanced at the children. Their eyes were just as wide as mine likely were. One of the boys had thankfully covered the eyes of a little girl, and he stared helplessly at me.

I had to get them out of here.

Movement in the street. The second soldier spat on the woman’s body, picked up the knife from the ground, and added it to an empty sheath on his ankle.

One of the children sneezed.

I flinched as the sound carried through the night, and my heart thundered until I could feel it vibrating in my throat.

An older child had slammed a hand over the mouth of the younger child, and both of their faces were so, so pale in the dim light, it was as if they were already corpses.

The second soldier smiled. And then he turned toward the cart.

For the first time, hatred engulfed me until I could barely breathe, could barely think around my loathing for the soldiers. I’d hated many things since this war started. Regner and all he stood for. Eryndan and his useless arrogance. The fae wardens who’d refused to ally with us.

But this? This was different. I’d never felt this kind of hate for the soldiers before. For humans. The people I’d been raised among. Those who were here on orders.

But it wasn’t those orders that made these soldiers steal and rape and kill. No, they did those things with a sick kind of pleasure—and that pleasure was evident in the whooping cheers of a group in the distance, followed immediately by terrified screams from several women.

The laughter grew even louder, drowning out the sound of the footsteps of the soldier who now stalked toward the children, his hand on his sword.

People who would do this—invade a foreign land for no reason other than they wanted what their neighbors had and felt entitled to it—people who would commit such atrocities and find them entertaining…

They deserved any retribution that came their way.

My own power was nowhere to be found. I might never find it again.

So I’d kill this man with my sword instead.

It was different now, without Lorian and the others standing with me. On the other side of the street, I could almost hear Galon grinding his teeth as I slowly got to my feet.

But the soldier didn’t hear me. He was too busy taunting the children.

“Come out,” he crooned. “I’ll make it quick. If you force me to drag you out of there, it will be worse.”

A dark, black feeling encompassed me, filling me as if I breathed it in with every inhale. It was frightening, how much hatred flowed through my veins.

Hatred and…rage.

I was tired. So, so tired.

But the rage was fuel. The hatred was speed.

The soldier was leaning down, still taunting the children as I leaped.

He must have heard me, because he began to straighten, to turn. He held his sword in his left hand, and I approached from the right.

He should have protected himself with his right arm. He’d have lost the arm, but he might’ve had a chance.

Instead, he made a stupid choice. He tried to switch his sword from his left hand, fumbling it. My sword sliced through his neck, and his body—already unbalanced— crashed into me.

I barely kept my feet. Below me, the children were as silent as the space between my heartbeats.

“Prisca,” Galon hissed. He was already moving, storming toward the first soldier. It took me only a second to understand why.

The thud of boots on stone, each step perfectly in sync.

And they were coming toward us.

I kicked the soldier’s head away from the children, and it rolled toward the other side of the street.

It hit Galon’s shin, and he let out a disgusted growl as he dragged the first body into the shadows. I fought the urge to vomit as I grabbed the second soldier’s shins and pulled with all my might.

He barely moved. Galon stepped toward me, and I shook my head, pointing at Marth. If he died, Marth died too.

Unsurprisingly, Galon was prepared to ignore me. He took another step. But I’d managed to get some leverage by squatting a little and taking long lunges backward. My thighs burned, but the boots were coming closer.

I managed to get the body into the shadow of the cart. My chest clenched at the horror the children had seen today.

But I couldn’t think about that now.

There was a huge smear of blood on the cobblestones—a clear indication that a body had been dragged away.

The boots sounded like thunder now.

Seconds. They’d be here in seconds. I reached for an old blanket from the back of the cart, throwing it over the blood. Hopefully, it would look as if it had merely fallen from one of the many people the Eprothan soldiers had cut down.

A glint of light on the corner warned me it was too late, and I leaped for the shadow behind the cart, meeting a pair of wide, tear-filled eyes. Slowly, I lifted my finger to my lips once again.

All I could see were boots and calves, marching twoby-two, still in time.

The first soldiers to breach the walls had likely been given orders to create chaos. They’d been allowed free rein to do whatever evil they liked. These soldiers were highly trained and headed directly for the castle.

One of the pairs of boots stopped suddenly, and another pair slammed into it. I tightened my hand on my sword. Somewhere in the darkness across the street, Galon would be doing the same.

Sweat streamed down my forehead, stinging my eyes. I blinked as fast as I could, not even daring to move enough to wipe it away.

Galon and I could take out anywhere from six to ten soldiers. And by that, I meant I could take out two, and he would cut down the rest with his blinding speed.

We’d just watched at least fifty soldiers march past. And there were more to come. Not only were there just two of us—without access to power—but Marth was in terrible shape, and we had the children behind us to think about too.

I strained again, grasping for even the tiniest thread of my magic. Nothing.

And for the first time, I actively resented my own power. How could it have abandoned me when I needed it the most?

One of the soldiers cursed and muttered something too low to hear.

The other soldier turned his feet. Toward the cart. “But—”

My vision sharpened. I could smell the thick smoke pouring toward us, mingled with the sweat of the soldiers. Each scuff of boot on stone sounded like thunder in my ears.

The soldier resumed marching, and the others behind him ran a few steps, quickly catching up to the others.

I stayed where I was and trembled, watching the soldiers pour past us.

The Sorlithians would never forget what had happened here today. They would never forget the screams and the pain and the terror. Horror had warred with rage on the faces of every innocent I’d seen, and I knew if they ever got the opportunity for vengeance…

They would make these soldiers suffer.

And they deserved their vengeance.

Finally, when their footsteps were nothing more than a distant echo, I stood. My limbs were cramped, my foot had gone to sleep, and I shook it out, limping over to the children.

“Come out,” I whispered.

As one, they shook their heads. I wished I had time to gently cajole them. But every second we spent on this street was risky.

And then Galon was there. He took one look at the children and sighed, shaking his head. But when he pointed at the spot next to him, they crawled from beneath the cart.

I frowned. And then it hit me. I was the one they’d watched behead a soldier and then drag the body away. I was still covered in his blood. Of course they were frightened of me.

“Marth?”

“Alive.” Galon’s voice was grim, and my mouth went dry.

He leaned down. “Parents?” he asked the children.

The oldest one, a boy, shook his head. “We don’t know where they are.”

“Then you’re coming with us.”

The boy opened his mouth as if to argue, but Galon was already turning away, lifting Marth back into his arms.

“We’re going to take you somewhere safe,” I said.

The youngest girl slipped her hand into mine. I glanced down at her tiny, pale face and glazed eyes. Clearly, she was no longer concerned about all the blood covering me. She just needed whatever comfort an adult could provide.

“Other hand,” I murmured, switching sides with her. I needed my sword in that hand, but as long as she was close, I could push her free if we were attacked. She stuck her free thumb in her mouth, and I rolled my shoulders.

The entrance to the tunnel was on the next street. It was a bookshop, and someone had been smart enough to overturn several shelves, pushing them up against the door. The chain around my lungs slipped free as Galon led us down the side of the store, and we slipped through the back entrance, taking the stairs down to the cellar.

“I don’t want to,” the little girl said, attempting to pull her hand free from mine.

I couldn’t exactly blame her. I wasn’t particularly happy about taking the ladder down into the tunnel either.

“We have to go, Celere,” one of the boys told her. There were three boys, all of them older than her. “Don’t be a baby.”

“I’ll carry you down,” I said.

She nodded, lifting her arms, and I picked her up. She was surprisingly heavy for such a small child, but she immediately melted into me, her body going limp.

“Let me go first,” Galon said.

He took the ladder down, Marth still in his arms. My pulse pounded in my ears, some part of me convinced there were soldiers waiting. But if that was the case, there would be clear signs in the cellar.

Still, I watched, openmouthed, as he somehow managed to keep his balance on the rickety ladder, leaning Marth against it.

When he was halfway down, he dropped, landing so softly, Marth likely hadn’t felt a thing.

The boys went next, scampering down the ladder. They were watching Galon with big eyes.

I shifted Celere around until she was on my back, and she linked her hands around my throat.

“A little lower,” I murmured.

She tried, but she was frightened as I moved down the ladder, and her hands squeezed, cutting off my air.

Finally, we made it to the bottom, following Galon through the tunnel.

It was clear that this was one of the few tunnels that had remained hidden. It was quiet, dimly lit by light orbs, and I could see obvious signs people had used it to flee—a child’s blanket dropped next to one wall, a few pieces of fruit scattered several footspans later.

My body was still trembling, recovering from the fear and rage that had roared through me like wildfire. Now, I just felt drained, so exhausted I could barely put one foot in front of the other. The children spoke little— the boys introducing themselves as Jory, Roen, and Nyle and then falling silent, while Celere sniffled occasionally as she clung to me.

Thankfully, Galon knew exactly where we were going. The tunnel ended, and we climbed the ladder up into the forest, moving quietly, keeping our footsteps light. There were no signs of Gromalian soldiers this far from the city. But we were quiet and careful just the same.

Fresh air slid up my nostrils, dried the sweat from my face, and ruffled my hair.

As Rekja had promised, healers were stationed near where we climbed out of the tunnel. Two of them leaped toward us, and the blood drained from one of their faces.

“He’s still alive?”

“Fae,” Galon bit out.

The male healer tensed, as if that meant Marth had some disease he could catch. Out of all the fae men I knew, Galon was probably the most patient. And yet, today had been long, with much of it outside of his control—something the fae struggled with at the best of times. When the male healer leaned closer to Marth as if studying a strange insect he’d never seen before, a low growl slid through the clearing.

No one moved. I reached out and grabbed Galon’s hand. The growl abruptly cut off.

The female healer immediately shoved the male aside. “My name is Rhea. Lay him down. Carefully.”

Her hands swept over his chest. And her easy confidence made my own hands relax.

“Hit a lung. Due to his fae healing, the lung has healed around the knife. It’s the only reason he is still alive.”

Tiny dots appeared in front of my eyes at her words, and I placed Celere on the ground. The children were quiet. Likely, I should take them somewhere away from this. Just as I had the thought, the male healer gestured for them to follow him, promising them food. Thankfully, he seemed able to behave normally with the children, and they followed him.

Rhea looked up at us, and her lips thinned. “I need to remove the knife. And he’s not going to like it.”

Galon gave a sharp nod. He knelt on Marth’s thighs, holding his wrists down.

Marth made a low, rough sound. I slapped my hand over his mouth, and his eyes were wild and unfocused as they met mine.

He bucked, but he was likely weak from blood loss, and Galon easily held him in place.

“Healer,” I said, leaning down so he would hear me. “We got you to a healer.”

I wasn’t sure if it was understanding and relief that made his eyes close, or if he’d simply passed out once more. His blond hair was tangled around his face, and I pushed it back, my heart aching.

He was alive. He hadn’t joined Cavis.

Rhea was panting when she was finished. “I’ve closed the wound, but he’ll need to see another healer soon to help with the remaining healing and blood loss.”

“But it’s safe to keep traveling?” Galon asked.

She nodded. “If you managed to get him here in that condition, you’re safe to continue.”

“Thank you,” he said. I nodded to her, scanning the clearing for the children.

They were drinking water, bread in their hands. When Celere noticed me looking, she nudged Nyle, who said something to the healer and herded the others toward us.

A little food and water had been good for them, and they followed after us for a while with no complaints. Celere ended up on my back once more and somehow managed to fall asleep, her head lolling on my shoulder.

A few hours later, we made it to a temporary camp. Demos and the others had clearly received Lorian’s message, and a few hundred of our people had traveled north to meet the Gromalians. Both the hybrids and fae were handing out food and water, giving medical attention when necessary, and leading Gromalians to makeshift tents.

I’d attempted to force my brain from thoughts of Lorian and Rythos. From thoughts of my brothers and Asinia and Madinia. But now, those thoughts beat at me, a constant refrain of loss and death.

Galon took Marth to a group of healers, while Celere clung to my hand. Then she let out a cry.

“What is it?” I asked, crouching, but she was already running.

A woman ran toward us, a man quickly catching up to her. The woman’s arm had been bandaged, and tears rolled down her face as the boys followed, launching themselves at the couple.

Within moments, the woman was sobbing, Celere in her arms. The man spoke to the others in a low voice, lifting his head to meet my gaze.

“You saved our children.”

“They were clever. They’d managed to find a place to hide.”

“We were going to die,” Roen said. “The soldier said so.”

The remaining color drained from the man’s face. “The children were in front of us when we were moving toward the tunnel,” he whispered. “A group of Eprothans attacked, and we lost the children in the chaos. I didn’t know they hadn’t made it to the tunnel until the entrance had been barred behind us. I don’t know how to thank you.”

My throat clogged. This was one bright spot in an otherwise horrific night. “Knowing you’re all together is enough.”

“Is there anything I can do for you? Anything you need?”

I shook my head. “Just look after one another.”

The woman smiled at me, still clutching Celere to her. I watched them walk away, almost swaying on my feet.

Warm arms encircled me. I tensed, then instantly relaxed as Lorian’s scent wound toward me. Turning in his arms, I laid my head against his chest for a long moment.

And just like that, I could breathe freely again. The world fell back into place.

“You found me.”

“I’ll always find you. You’re so tired,” he murmured.

When I lifted my head, his lips met mine, hard and possessive. I was suddenly drunk on the taste of him. The feel of him. And at the same time, I felt as if I could focus once more.

Our kiss turned gentle. Tender. Lorian brushed his mouth against mine. Once. Twice.

“I was so worried about you,” I admitted.

His eyes were heavy-lidded, and he ran his hands up and down my back, as if still soaking in the feel of me.

“I just talked to Galon. You were the one truly in danger.”

“Rythos? Rekja? Thora?”

“All safe. Rekja suffered heavy losses. But we managed to convince him to leave. Thora was helpful there.” His gaze flickered, eyes turning feral.

And then, in a movement so fast my head spun, he shoved me behind him, his sword suddenly in his hand.

I pulled my own sword. Had iron guards found us? Were the Eprothans sneaking up on us even now?

A woman carrying a cup of water dropped it and stumbled backward with a yelp. Somewhere, a child burst into tears. One of Rekja’s guards palmed a dagger, searching the crowd for a threat.

I peered around Lorian. Nothing had changed. No soldiers had burst through the tree line. No arrows were ripping into our people.

There was no threat.

Silence rippled across the camp. Lorian’s face was corpse-white.

“Lorian,” I murmured quietly. “What is it?”

He sheathed his sword, but his hand remained on the hilt, knuckles whitening. When I stepped in front of him, his eyes were dazed, confused.

And then, they filled with wrath.

“It’s nothing,” he said, and his voice carried over the crowd. His gaze swept the camp, and suddenly, everyone decided they had something else they needed to do.

“Lorian—”

“I’m fine, Prisca.” His words were carefully neutral. He didn’t snap or snarl or sneer. But I flinched all the same.

Because he was lying to me.

Removing his hand from his sword, he held it out, waiting until I put my own hand in his. He led me toward the tent that had been designated for us, and my gaze slammed into Galon’s.

His eyes were dark with concern. Concern and fear.