41. Aldrin
Chapter 41
Aldrin
I step out of the portal and into the palace library, and guards immediately swarm us. I laugh as my sword cuts clean through one man’s neck, his head tumbling to the ground while his body folds over behind it.
My sword clashes with the next soldier’s, metal scraping against metal, but I am taller, stronger and far angrier. He crumples under my attack, blood spurting from multiple wounds.
More guards channel into the room and I send out a wave of sharpened spikes of air, slicing through their flesh as I spin on my heel and skewer the soldier attacking my back.A blind wrath boils within me at their audacity to try to stop me from getting to Keira. I will kill anyone who comes between us, including that mad king.
Bolts fly across the room, accompanied by the clacking of a handheld crossbow working behind me, and I know Caitlin has entered the library. I slice through the hamstrings of a guard who charges me, and Drake runs his sword through the man’s chest while wrapping ropes of air around another’s throat and choking the life out of him.
At my side, Klara wrenches her sword free from where it is lodged in a woman’s chest, then pulls a dagger from its sheath at her thigh and tosses it straight into the throat of a guard running away from us.
All of a sudden, there is no one left to fight, with only a ring of bodies around us. Their blood seeps across the marble floors, channels of it streaming down the grout, toward the many bookshelves. We make quick work of closing the portal, then run out of the library, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind us.
Keira, I am coming for you. I thrust the thought to her, down that slowly awakening bond. Where are you, dear heart?
Her voice comes to me as though from very far away. The throne room. Finan is holding me hostage. My power…very little has come back to me.
We are coming, I promise, my rage hitting new heights as I swing my sword through the air in preparation for the blood I truly want to spill.
I immediately turn left as we hit the corridor. Niall smuggled the palace blueprints to us weeks ago, and I memorized every inch of the place. With each corner we turn, at every intersection of corridors, I expect to find palace guards charging at us, but there are none. We race along halls that are completely empty.
A chill runs down my spine. I have a bad feeling about this.
I lead my people through a corridor lined with glass windows. They peer down into the city from a rise, giving a full view of the immense, barricaded gate that leads to the main entrance of the palace.
We all slow to look at the fight below.
One side of the wall is swarming with the angry mob, holding weapons high and banging against the wooden gate. Edmund’s men are there, bringing their rams up against the barrier. The other side has palace guards pressing their shields against the gate, while others launch arrows into the crowd from the wall.
Edmund’s war party has drawn many guards to the wall, but it looks like most have abandoned their posts in the palace. We didn’t plan for that.
“Fuuuck.” Drake grabs my arm and forces me to move faster. “We aren’t going to have enough time!”
I immediately see it. Guards breaking and running away from the wall. Others fighting each other, the bloodbath escalating as a handful of royal guards turn the wrench to open the gate.
“Yes, we fucking will,” I growl.
We run like the Wild Hunt itself is on our tails. I don’t know which would be worse: those feral demonic horsemen of the Shadow Court, or this mob.
I glance over my shoulder and out the windows again. The main gate of the palace is halfway up, and the mob are ducking under it and streaming up the great steps to the grand entrance.
The corridor leads to a large ballroom, echoing our crashing footsteps back at us as we race for the far side, ignoring all the opulence. I burst out first onto a wide landing at the top of a broad staircase that glitters with gold-veined marble, set face to face with the advancing mob.
The people are frenzied, with wide eyes and frantic movements, pouring in from the main entrance of the palace and darting in great hordes down the intersections of different passageways. They carry makeshift clubs and butcher’s knives, many already bloodied.
They are still a level below us, but as my people pour out behind me, there is a roar from the crowd and dozens charge up the stairs. Fuck. Edmund let them in too soon. We thought the palace guards would slow them.
“A change of plans,” I yell to my people, abandoning the staircase I was going to take to the throne room and running along the elaborate balcony that overlooks the madness below. “We’ll use the servants’ access.”
With a flick of my wrist, I throw an air volley down the stairs, thrusting the advancing people off their feet and arching backward into empty space. I don’t want to kill humans, but I won’t allow them to delay us. The thought of the mob reaching Keira before I do turns my blood to ice.
These possessed people don’t care for politics, or a cruel king and innocent queen.
They want death and mayhem.
I tear open the door to the much narrower passage and charge through, following corridor after corridor, turning left and right.
“This is a less direct path,” Cyprien grunts at my side. “It will take longer.”
I glance sideways at him as we pass a huddle of maids whimpering in a corner. “Longer than cutting our way through that crowd? It is only going to get thicker.”
I skid to a stop at a door, knowing we need to pass back into the main palace before we can reach the throne room. I motion to Silvan, my fingers clutching the handle.
“Cloak us,” I command the moment he reaches me, and the air instantly ripples before us with the evidence of his invisibility shield.
I swing open the door to a huge, open receiving room, absolutely swarming with a sea of bodies so thick they can hardly move, despite how they thrash. Caitlin whispers a curse behind me. I close the door just as quickly, throwing my back against it, mind whirling as I run through the blueprints once more.
My eyes snap open to my warriors staring at me. “The Crystal Ballroom,” I say. “It is the only other way.”
“Through the music storeroom.” Drake agrees. We all take off again.
Keira, dear heart, I plead. Tell me you are safe. That the mob hasn’t found you yet.
My heart clenches as panels and doors fly past us. I have waited too long for her reply.
Oh gods, they’re in the palace, aren’t they? Keira finally chokes. They’re not here yet…but Aldrin…I’m afraid. I’m defenseless.
Something inside me breaks at the waver in her voice. I won’t let them touch you, I promise, even as a desperate fear claws within me that I might not get to her in time.
We reach a music room with hundreds of instruments neatly stored on shelves. I don’t slow my pace until I am at the door to the Crystal Ballroom.
I whirl to my people. “We are out of options. We will cut a path through whatever is out there,” I growl, then swing the door open.
The mob is far thinner here and has turned to looting. Many pull down statues of the mad king, laughing and whooping as they crash to the ground. Others use daggers to pry decorative hunks of gold from the walls and furniture alike. They hardly notice us as we pass.
When we burst out of the ballroom and into the wide corridor beyond, it is teeming with people racing to the throne room at the far end.
“Palace guards!” a ratty, blood-streaked man bellows, pointing at us. “Kill them!”
Humans race at us from all directions, many of whom have commandeered swords that they have no idea how to hold.
I glance back at my people. “Do what you must.”
Cyprien smiles at me wickedly, while Drake cracks his neck from side to side.
I step into the charging crowd, flicking those nearest back with localized torrents of air and flinging them into walls. The windows along the far side of the corridor shatter, and dozens of tree branches reach in from the gardens beyond. They snag incensed humans and drag them back outside. I recognize the threads of Cyprien and Drake’s magic in them. The clack of a crossbow tells me that Caitlin is still right at my back, as eager as I am to get to Keira.
Suddenly, the corridor is quiet.
Klara releases her grip on a huge man, even by my standards, and he groans as he drops to the ground, the very life nearly sucked out of him, dark veins webbing across his skin from her reverse healing magic.
We race toward the grand doors of the throne room at the far end of the corridor, with the indistinct roar of the distant mob on our heels. More will be here soon. Silvan reaches the doors first and tries to yank them open.
They rattle in their frames, but don’t part.
“Barricaded,” he grumbles as he places his palms against the wood and thrusts an intense pulse of air magic into it.The doors shake and splinters fly off them, but it isn’t enough.
Caitlin pushes Silvan aside and puts her hand to the door. Fire erupts from it in dancing tongues, the flames quickly spreading across the entire surface. A rush of heat assaults my face and exposed arms.
I back away from her, swinging my attention to the corridor behind us. The crashing of hundreds of boots on marble echoes down the passage, accompanied by the manic shouts of frenzied people. The rest of the mob is near, but they are not on us yet.
“Hurry!” Caitlin yells.I whip back to her. Falling embers rain around her, and the doors have been reduced to cinders. The tips of her hair are fiery whipcords to match, and her ears are pointed.
I am the first to step through the smoky shroud of the doorway, my feet crunching on charcoal. There are two dozen guards in neat rows before the thrones. They shake as they stare at me with wide eyes. One even drops his spear.
I know what I must look like to them, with all my glamour dropped: horns, black streaks across my face, inky fingers tipped with long claws. Then the other fae line up beside me.
Cyprien’s eyes are completely black, with no whites at all. Elongated fangs and tusks peek through his lips and his blackened claws match my own.
Drake’s skin has turned a brighter shade of red, and an exoskeleton of near-transparent scales covers it. The humans look as though they will faint at the sight of our primal forms.
Behind them stands the mad king, on the dais before the thrones. He has a blade in his hand and holds the tip beneath Keira’s jaw. His other arm is wrapped around her waist, forcing her in front of him, using her body as a shield.
The sight of them breaks something within me. My sanity. My tight reins on the beast within. It makes me utterly feral.
I want to level this room.
This palace.
This city.
To destroy everyone in it to get to the woman I love.
Rage burns within me like the hottest fire, until it is all I know. I pull up my magic from its deepest well, ready to serve out death and destruction on a large scale, but something pulses within Keira and drags me back to her.
A glowing aura surrounds her body, so bright it is almost blinding, and she is an ethereal beauty within it. Every feature is absolute perfection, because it belongs to her. There is a tether between us, pulling and sucking my very soul toward her, like a fierce riptide.
Keira’s doe eyes widen as they land on me, and her rosebud lips part with shock as that aura stretches out a thick band, flying out of her chest and slamming right into mine. My entire being feels like it stumbles back multiple paces, struck hard with powerful magic, but my body stays exactly where it is.
A sudden, deep connection blooms between our souls, and I can feel her fear in its rawest form. The cold prickle of sweat across her skin. The way her body trembles and her heart beats erratically as if it were in my own chest.
Keira fears for me . For Caitlin.
But there is also relief flooding through her as hope is born in her heart. When our gazes lock, a rich, decadent wave of velvety warmth rolls from her to me, as her chest brims with love in its purest form. It is a song in harmony with my own.
Only a single moment has passed, but it feels like an eternity. No one else reacts, because they cannot feel what has happened between us, but a tear rolls down Keira’s cheek and a huge grin splits my lips. I step forward, swinging my sword in arcs, preparing to carve a path to her.
Let them leave, Keira pleads, her voice loud and strong in my head, like it has never been before. These guards never laid a finger on me. They have always been loyal to the entire royal family.
I pause, then address them. “Get out of my way if you want to live. The palace is overrun by the mob and the rest of the royal guard has fled. I only need the mad king.” I point to Finan with my sword and he recoils. “Leave now, and I will not harm you. Stay and you will die.”
Two guards charge at us, and we cut them down easily while the rest flee around us. The poor bastards don’t realize they are racing straight for the mob.
I glance at my loyal warriors. “Use the trees outside to barricade this doorway.” I don’t turn back as the creak and groan of branches rapidly growing, moving and interweaving fills the room. I know there will be a thick, woody wall at my back.
I stalk toward the mad king, my sword pointed at him from across the hall, and he cowers back multiple steps, taking Keira with him. “I will kill her if you come any closer!” Finan’s voice is high-pitched and his eyes dart wildly. “Know that I will.”
I halt, tipping my head to the side. “And you thought you were worthy of marrying her?”
I thrust my power into him, running it up every limb and hooking it into each muscle, taking away his control over his own body. I move the hand clutching the blade away from Keira’s throat, opening his fingers until the dagger clatters to the ground, then pry the other off her stomach. The coward’s muscles shake like leaves in the wind.
He doesn’t even try to fight me.
Keira slips out of his grasp, then she is running, closing the space between us and slamming straight into my arms. I wrap her in the tightest embrace, kissing the top of her head as a sob leaves her. It feels so damn good to have her here.So right, like the pieces of my soul have finally been knitted back together.
With Keira tucked under my arm, I stalk toward Finan until I stand over him menacingly. Close enough that I can smell the sandalwood of the oils he uses to curl his hair. His colorless lips quiver, and his eyes are wide, the pupils completely dilated as he stares up at me. The only part of his body still in his control is his face.
“Please,” the mad king whispers. “Please.”
I send a pulse of magic into the arm that dared to put a blade to Keira’s throat, twitching the muscle and twisting it hard. The bone snaps audibly and he lets out a high-pitched wail.
“I should torture you for what you have done to Keira,” I snarl. “If you have laid a single finger on her, if you forced yourself on her, I will snap your limbs one by one, twist back every finger and toe, until I finally break your spine.”
“I never touched her!” Finan shrieks between sobs, tears running down his face. “She never let me.”
I glance down at Keira, and she nods, though I feel the shudder that runs through her.
“But you have.” I lean down until I am right in his face, eye to eye with the small man. “I have seen the bruises you put on her. Felt the pain you inflicted with your blows to her head. For that alone, you must pay.”
With an air wield, I pick up the king’s knife and float it upward to Keira, the hilt presented to her. “You should be the one to end the life of your tormentor,” I say softly.
“Aldrin.” Cyprien’s voice is low. “You need to hurry. The mob is almost on us.”
I glance at where the blood-hungry humans are visible through the small gaps in the barricade. They race down the corridor and collide with the wall of branches, hacking at it with their weapons, while my people call upon more trees to fight back.
Keira takes the blade in her hand, spinning it as she considers Finan, taking a step toward him and out of my embrace.
The look he gives her is utterly wounded. “Did I not give you everything a woman could want?”
“No.” She presses the blade against his cheek, leaning in close. “You took everything away from me. My voice. My agency. The life I had built. My home, now ravaged by your army. You. Took. Everything.”
Keira glances up to the side of the dais, where I notice Diarmuid for the first time. Caitlin is busy cutting loose her brother’s bonds, and the king’s druid adviser stands behind them.
In the corridor behind us, the angry roar of the mob grows louder as more join the fight against the trees and are tossed out the windows. The problem is that more humans keep arriving to bolster their numbers.
“This is making me very nervous,” Drake growls as he and the others hold the doorway. “I don’t want to needlessly kill these humans.”
“Please have mercy,” Finan whimpers.
“Mercy?” Keira pulls the blade away from his cheek, and it leaves a thin gash down his face. “Mercy? You don’t deserve mercy for what you have done. How many people have died for your selfishness? How many are traumatized by the brutality of war because you couldn’t take no for an answer?”
Finan’s brows crease, as though the thoughts only just occurred to him. Keira continues her tirade.
“But I will give you mercy, Finan. I won’t allow you to be torn apart by an angry mob.”
She places her hand on his cheek. It would almost seem like a gentle, loving caress, one that would make me jealous, if her other hand didn’t entwine with mine, drawing on my reservoir of raw power to feed the weaves of autumn magic she threads through him. Keira’s wield creeps across his skin and penetrates his blood, until her claws are in every part of him.
Then she unleashes her power of decay.
In one heartbeat, Finan is whole, and in the next, hairline cracks form across his exposed skin. He blinks, lips parting and preparing to scream as pieces of ash float away from his face—then his entire form ruptures.
Finan’s body collapses in on itself, decayed instantaneously into its most basic elemental components. Only his royal purple clothes and his spiked gold crown remain intact on a pile of earth.
Both my body and Keira’s shake from the rapid use of so much magic, but we don’t have time to fall into shock. For a single, horrible moment, everyone in the room stares at the remains of the mad king, then at Keira, collectively holding their breaths.
I have never felt more proud in my life.
Cyprien stalks over to us, breaking the tension and grabbing me by the arm. “If that is done, we need to leave. Now.”
I glower at the druid Murdoc. “We cannot flee the way we came. You will get us out of here.”
Murdoc swallows hard. “I know the royal escape route within the walls. It is not in the blueprints.”
“Lead the way,” I snap. Murdoc takes a single step toward the back of the dais, but I grab his arm and swing him back around to face me. “If you betray us, I will tear your head from your shoulders with my teeth.”
He pales, then moves a tapestry to reveal a hidden door that camouflages into the wall.
As our war party funnels into the inky darkness of the passageway beyond, a few members of the mob break through the barricade that is no longer being fed with magic. They wave clubs and axes speckled with blood, stopping to beckon more of their number.
I close the door behind us, andthe throne room fills with feral-eyed people, screaming war cries, smashing and stealing whatever they can get their hands on.
As the darkness swallows us, bodies crash into the other side of the door, trying to break it. I throw fortifying air wields before it, creating a barrier mere humans cannot penetrate. My other fae add their magic to mine, solidifying it. In the next heartbeat, we are running down tunnels heavy with dust and clotted with spiderwebs, with only a few fire orbs to light our way.
Keira’s breathing is labored, and I know it’s not from exhaustion. I keep a reassuring hand low on her back. Twice Diarmuid stumbles in the dark, until Caitlin curses at him to make less noise.
We take turn after turn, racing up a staircase and down another, until the passage leads out into the library. I sigh a long breath of relief when we find it empty of violent hordes.
We race through the aisles, with Murdoc and Diarmuid grabbing and pulling along whichever trembling, hiding academics we come across.
Cyprien reaches the portal first, and while he powers it up, the rest of us take up a defensive circle around him, facing each of the entrances to the library. I take the crossbow from my back and hand it to Keira, slipping a quiver over her shoulder, then I draw my sword.
The portal hums to life at our back the moment the bells start tolling. King Niall has taken the throne. More bells answer the call of the first until the entire city seems to ring with the low, brassy declaration. I take a moment to bask in the satisfaction of that achievement, with Keira here, safe at my side.
“He is finally out of my life.” Keira’s voice breaks, but I can feel the flood of relief that runs through her, uncoiling the tension in every muscle.
I place my hands on either side of her face and stare at her, brushing a tendril of hair from her cheek with my thumb. Those eyes sparkle as she looks up at me, and my entire soul is flooded with the love she feels for me.
This was our trial.
Keira is my mate.
I take her hand and lead her through the portal, back to safety.