Chapter 36
It’s a strange feeling to walk towards your death. The hangman’s invisible noose tightens around my neck with every step towards the palace. My remaining words are limited, so I use them sparingly as we walk.
Cal blends seamlessly into the fading shadows.
He’s a fearsome sight. Dressed head to toe in black, from his cloak to his leather armor.
The same armor he wore to my birthday dinner.
He slips effortlessly into his role as both strategist and commander.
No one, save me and his brothers, would believe this isn’t his true nature.
Rather than our regional colors, we’ve all chosen to wear black today.
Each of us secretly hoping that a fraction of the Captain of Corinth’s infamous ruthlessness will rub off when we don his color.
I’ve worn every shade of green, braved the ire of men while draped in amethyst, and disguised myself in the drab browns of the common folk, but I’ve never worn black before. Not until today.
Our ragtag army is divided into four groups in order to infiltrate each gate at the same time. Our plan is simple: push from all sides until Marks and his loyal men are forced into the throne room. Each group is led by an aevus, our power serving as a force multiplier against Marks’ human soldiers.
Silas, along with his fire magic, is stationed with Theo and Quinn at the south gate.
I begged her not to fight today, but my headstrong best friend wouldn’t hear of it.
We all agreed she was a liability to my focus if we were paired together.
Theo, eager to join her, claimed he had sworn an oath that required him to go where she went.
With water magic at his call, Micah is stationed with Henry and Marianne at the east gate.
No one was separating the twins, and only a fool would have tried to come between the lieutenant and his lover.
With the addition of Marianne’s air on their side, this group was chosen to infiltrate nearest the sea, the second most utilized entrance.
Elias Klein, the would-be traitor, surprised us all when he knocked on the safe house door moments before we departed.
Miles volunteered to keep an eye on him and the air-wielding Ruby governor, and the others happily obliged him, no one else wanting the job.
They’re purposefully stationed at the least used gate to the west.
Cal and I comprise the remaining group at the main palace gate.
Henry lobbied hard for us to be divided amongst the groups, and from a strategic standpoint, it makes sense.
I am a liability for Cal and everyone can see it.
He made it clear last night that he won’t choose his own life if it comes to that—when it comes to that.
I made the executive decision to give the group the only evidence that would silence them.
My ability to wield threads of Cal’s power was met with gasps, but it was utter perplexity when I confessed how I can pour my magic into him.
After that, no one could deny that we must remain together in order to launch a multi-elemental attack while we wait for the others to reach us.
I can grow flowers and shake the earth, but Cal possesses more power than all of us combined. I’ve seen the ebony core of it. I’ve felt its pull and touched its limitlessness. If he could access it, he could topple worlds. And that’s exactly what we need him to do.
The first light of day dances across the horizon. The guard will be changing any minute. If everything goes as planned, Cal’s men will be taking the place of Marks’ soldiers and all four entrances to the palace will be guarded by men who will let us pass without question.
When the last body is carted away and the blood is mopped from the palace floors, the story of what happened here will spread.
And whoever’s atop the Amethyst Throne will be the author.
They alone will have the power to craft the narrative.
A generation of tall tales about victors and villains will be born today.
Dread settles deeper into my bones the longer we hide amongst the empty shipping crates that line the outside walls of the north gate.
I scan the faces of every soldier who passes, attempting to discern friend from foe.
There is no visual indication of their loyalty, so I wait impatiently for Cal to confirm their allegiance.
The clock tower chimes, signaling the end of watch for the night men. The beast inked on my skin swishes her tail.
One.
Two.
Two soldiers dressed in Corinthian gray and gold uniforms approach the guards.
They exchange words, a post-duty debrief, a joke about the tall one’s wife, and a card game challenge two nights from now in their favorite tavern.
Their ease and casualness in the face of the chiming clock stand in stark contrast to the turmoil within me.
It’s a normal day in the lives of these men—and the very last day in mine.
Five.
The night guards finally depart, setting out for beds or women or ale. It matters not where they go, only that they do. The new guards look in our direction and panic grips me. We’ll either be discovered and captured or we’ll be granted entry. There’s no going back now.
Six.
As the clock strikes the sixth hour, the soldiers turn their backs to the city in unison.
“It’s time,” Cal breathes. He’s through the gate in ten long strides. My steps double trying to keep up with his pace as his hold on my hand tightens. My magic flips and frets in erratic spurts before it flares in alarm.
Something isn’t right.
“Gods have mercy on our souls,” one guard whispers just before a battle cry echoes off the stone walls. Squadrons of soldiers spring up from the hedges that line the interior and rush us at once.
Cal’s power ripples through the courtyard in an icy wind.
Soldiers drop to the ground, clawing at their throats for breath.
My body barely recognizes what’s happening before cold steel bites into my neck.
Rough hands rip me from Cal’s grasp, my back pressing against a broad chest. The gray and gold sleeve of my captor’s arm is all I can see from my peripheral before he falls away convulsing, blood pouring from his nose and mouth.
My power strikes out, thick vines sprouting from the ground to wrap around our attackers. Inky shadows spread across the courtyard and pour into their open throats until they choke. Only dead bodies litter the grass for now, but more soldiers will be coming.
“Quickly,” Cal commands, sprinting for cover.
I follow on his heels, drawing back the dark magic so I don’t burn out too quickly.
We skid to a stop at the edge of the palace wall, each hiding behind an ornate statue flanking the entryway.
I can’t see the face of the stone god concealing me, but I can clearly see its counterpart on the other side.
The stone effigy of the God King Nobus stoically guards Cal, a sight that nearly stops my heart’s beating.
“Fucking bastards sold us out to Marks,” Cal curses. “So much for loyalty.”
Another wave of Corinthian soldiers sprints into the courtyard and halts at the sight of their dead comrades before them. At least two squads lay lifeless, easily eliminated with our combined magic.
But if squads were stationed at all entrances … I shudder at the thought of how the rest of our resistance is faring. It’s a risk they all willingly took on, but one I wish they were better equipped to handle.
Thunder booms overhead, drawing the soldiers’ confused eyes to the clear sky above and providing the perfect distraction for us to slip into the palace unnoticed.
The interior is bustling with activity. Servants carrying pokers, tongs, and hand brooms rush by to light the morning fires. Maids scurry past with armloads of folded purple linens. Bedsheets, towels, tablecloths—every thread of fabric the color of royalty.
If they notice us, they pay us no mind. They’re barely paid enough to live and not nearly enough to care if the duo standing in their midst is authorized to do so.
We walk, quickly and purposefully, through the open foyer and past the grand staircase. A booming voice echoes throughout the room, the alabaster walls and floors doing little to muffle the shouted command.
“Find them!”
Cal and I exchange a worried glance as we begin to sprint through the grand entrance hall. Unease radiates from him, but his composure never slips. Wordlessly, I follow his direction. Despite being discovered, despite knowing that the others in our crew are under attack, we stick to the plan.
The decorative suits of armor that line the long hallway provide cover for us several times as we stealthily make our way toward the throne room.
Based on the commands and pounding of footsteps on the stone floors that cover the palace, there’s at least six squads of soldiers hunting us now.
A religious person would thank the gods, but I know what remains of Cal’s embedded loyalists within their ranks are the only reason we haven’t been found yet.
They’re leading their men on a wild goose chase, searching every corridor and hallway that doesn’t lead to us.
Forty yards separate us from the throne room. Less than ten seconds stand between me and the culmination of eighteen years of nightmares. Barely more than a breath away from destiny.
I take a deep inhale to steady myself and prepare to run.
It’s now or never. Without sparing a look toward Cal, I dart out from behind the metal soldier.
Black boots pound against the purple carpet runner, each footfall more sluggish than the last as time slows to a crawl.
I don’t stop to look down at them, don’t bother to look towards the shouting coming from behind me.
My gaze is locked solely on the intricately carved golden door in front of me.
A wave of magic washes over me, the world tipping as my feet no longer respond to my brain’s command to move. I fall forward, unable to counter the momentum from my abrupt stop. The floor rises up to meet me in a white blur before black overtakes my vision and the palace fades away.