The Blood Crown (The Blood Folk #2)

62. Chapter 62

Chapter 62

C ivilians flooded through the gates of the palace, seeking safety from the danger sweeping through the Valley, but it was eerily quiet beyond the chaos of the Capitol.

Every male, young and old, split off from their families as they passed beyond the palace wall.

Fathers kissed children goodbye. Husbands embraced their wives—silent, stoic tears as they left. Sons clung to their mothers.

Aurelia had seen for herself what became of the things the King of the Void claimed—but she could not let that happen—would not. They might not have been her people, but for her mother, Wellan, her father . . . for Tanis, she would protect them.

She’d taken the last stallion in the stables, guiding the people of the Capitol through the gates. She was faster on foot, but the risk of terrifying the already frightened crowd was too great. As it was, she made the horse uneasy, as if it too recognized she was a shadecat wearing lambskin.

She ushered a young mother and her babe through the thick stone walls as someone called “Aurelia!”

If hearing Bastien’s voice had been a kick to the gut . . . hearing her mother’s was nearly enough to rip out her heart.

She turned, feeling out of control of her own body—her own actions.

Lady Norrick’s small figure emerged from the crowd of faces, her auburn hair a mess of curls around her shoulders as she stood frozen, green eyes lined with silver.

Aurelia grasped the reigns of the restless beast beneath her, emotion making her throat thick with unspoken words. It was twice now that she’d left her mother with no explanation, leaving her to wonder what had become of her.

“Mother—” she began, as Lady Norrick approached, her eyes focused on her daughter as if she so much as blinked, she might vanish again.

“Don’t,” her mother rasped, holding up a delicate hand. “Tell me nothing at all before you tell me a lie.” Her veridian eyes were assessing as they swept over every inch of Aurelia.

But there was no fear in them as they lifted to her face—no disappointment. Only deep, unrelenting relief.

Aurelia wished she had more time—more time to explain all of it . . . the truth in its entirety. “I—” But as she opened her mouth to speak, nothing came out.

Her mother cut her off. “When this is done,” she glanced behind her, to the disorder unfolding, “you can tell me everything.”

Without another word, her mother donned the easy grace of Councilor Norrick's beloved widow. Kneeling to comfort a crying child, pressing a reassuring hand into the mother’s as she handed them off to the guards finding places for the influx of people.

Her mother gave her a final, parting glance before Aurelia spurred the stallion beneath her.

A hulking pile of rusted weapons had grown in the courtyard by the time Aurelia ushered another group of people through.

Servants and blue cloaks alike passed buckets of tar and oil up to the archers on the battlement.

Above, she caught Lanthius’ tall silhouette pacing amongst the Allokin soldiers, the spellmasters hefting large crates up onto the wall at his order.

Agius and his men had positioned themselves between the blue cloaks and the Wraiths, and though the humans gave the strangers wary glances, they nodded to them all the same as they picked up their weapons.

Black streaks raced through the midnight blue sky, the ravens alighting on the stone walls with croaks and caws until every empty space between the archers and the Wraiths was occupied.

An army of cooks, kitchen maids, and apprentices were rolling barrels of salt through the courtyard, dropping them at intervals along the wall. If they secretly questioned her brother’s sanity, there was no sign of it as they poured a thick line around the perimeter of the palace grounds.

Blue-robed Nameless Brothers dotted the ground. So preoccupied with chanting prayers to the Unnamed and tossing powder at the walls that they didn't bother to find shelter or food for the terrified children pouring into the palace.

Karro leapt from the battlement, landing in front of a nearby brother. The man clasped the heavy iron chain around his neck as he looked up, up, further up to meet the Wraith's vengeful stare. And the blanched look on the brother's face made Aurelia wonder if he'd soiled himself beneath his heavy robes.

Karro ripped the iron from his throat, and the man let out a strangled whimper. “Unless you melt this down and forge a blade from it, it will do nothing to save you,” he snarled.

Asher had thrown himself down the stairs to intervene just as one of the young men returned with a bag of salt, handing it to him. He stepped between the Wraith and the Nameless Brother, yanking the sachel from the man's hand and sending colored powder scattering through the night air. “If you’re going to sprinkle something, at least make yourself useful,” he said, shoving the heavy sack of salt into the stunned man’s hands.

Eying Karro as he backed away, the Nameless Brother reluctantly obeyed.

Asher gave a nod to the nearby blue cloaks who had paused at the exchange—the tension coiled between the humans and the Blood Folk dispelled in an instant. But amidst the flurry of activity, something seemed to press against the air above them.

The mass of people crowding into the courtyard stilled, casting frightened glances toward the darkened Shades—looking to the guards and the warriors that had gone quiet atop the wall.

Hushed silence blanketed the Valley.

Even the pines around them seemed to be holding their breath, waiting.

And a shriek pierced the thick veil of night.

It severed the last thread of civility. People rushed the gates, clawing and trampling each other to get inside—only worsening as the shrieks multiplied, somewhere off at the edge of the Valley.

They needed to shut the gates. Without the line of salt being closed, the protection was useless to everyone inside them, but there were dozens—maybe hundreds still pouring into the courtyard.

Her mother’s spark of auburn hair was in the flood of people—far beyond the walls of the palace now.

“Get them inside!” she shouted, digging her thighs into the stallion beneath her as she made for the gate.

Ven whirled at the sound of her voice, ordering a dozen Wraiths to the ground beside her. Plumes of shadow and smoke appeared outside the gate, the Wraiths landing gracefully amongst the dazed humans, stumbling away into the safety of the palace grounds.

Screams rose throughout the Captiol, a deafening cacophony of inhuman shrieks and panicked cries.

Black shadows stretched between the pines, drenching the glittering snow in darkness that bled across the Valley’s edge.

The pitch black voids between the pines were illuminated with glowing green eyes. Dozens of demons drawing closer to the perimeter of the wards.

And now Aurelia saw them in a different light. Still the grotesque creatures they’d always been—but the remnants of the people they’d been before . . .

The angular face of one of the Blood Folk, the pointed ears of one of the Allokin.

This is what would become of everyone she loved if she did not fight.

And somewhere dark in her mind, something she would never dare to speak aloud—the thought of death seemed much better than watching this fate befall any of them.

Demons flooded from the pines now, breaking along the ward lines as they met the invisible barrier of spells.

The stench of burning sulfur grew as the shambling corpses threw themselves against the wards, their leathery hides going up in flames as they made contact with the spells. Others fell into the icy depths of the Kesh, screaming as they crumbled and disintegrated, washing away with the current.

“Inside!” she shouted.

The Wraiths gathered up children, disappearing into wisps of shadow as they deposited them inside the gates. Embra stood in the courtyard, her easy nature enough to combat the fearful look in the children’s eyes as they flocked to her, despite her pale green skin and deep green braid of hair.

Silvery blue robes whipped in the night wind, but the spellmasters were rooted to their posts beyond the wardlines, demons only a dozen feet from where they stood. Beside them were Wraiths, the black of their gear blending into the night so that only the flash of their red eyes made them visible as they paced beside their charges.

The demons were four and five deep now, surrounding the perimeter, throwing themselves against the wards until their skin caught fire and they danced like macabre torches in the night air.

Agius and his soldiers stood motionless on the battlements, their silver cloaks blazing like beacons as the Wraiths melted into the night beside them.

Aurelia glanced around her, watching as the last of the people flooded through the closing gates.

Movement caught her eye.

A boy no older than eight, a round-cheeked girl of three on his back as he sprinted for the gates—determination creasing his tiny brow.

Aurelia’s eyes met his, silently spurring him on as she cut through the wave of people on the stallion, her thighs pressing into his sides—urging him faster as they went beyond the shadow of the palace wall.

“Aurelia!” Ven shouted, his eyes wide as gold flashed in her periphery.

It happened so quietly, so suddenly—

A demon clawed at the air, the golden web of spellwork stretching and pulling as the drugar fought toward them. Endless hunger in its lifeless green eyes.

Its skin burned, charring and hissing against the wards—until the golden threads snapped.

The demon broke free of the web, stumbling forward, only making it a few steps before a black-tipped arrow exploded through its eye—turning it to ash.

Aurelia glanced toward her savior as Valea fluidly nocked another arrow.

A spellmaster stepped forward, hands raised as gilded threads spun from her fingertips, knitting the wards back together as more drugar rushed toward the opening.

The Wraith beside her held his ground, letting the archers do their work as more arrows flew, whizzing past the female’s face. But no sooner had she sealed the wards, and another shout rang out as more demons broke through.

Aurelia shot forward, reigns lashed around her fist as she leaned dangerously close to the stallion’s heavy hooves, stretching out a hand. Arrows whistled past, finding their marks as the boy's hazel eyes met hers, wide with fear.

“Eyes on me!” she ordered, throwing every scrap of will into compelling the child not to look at what crawled toward them. If he so much as hesitated a moment—it would be both of their deaths.

But she could taste it in the air as if it were blood. This was only the beginning.

Black, clawed hands reached out and the stallion screamed. Aurelia was thrown through the air.

The breath punched out of her lungs as she collided with the frozen ground.

She reached for the dagger at her side, stumbling to her feet and sprinting toward the boy and his sister—the girl’s golden curls matted and tangled with tears as her brother ran for Aurelia through the maelstrom of arrows.

Black shapes moved closer—threatening to cut off her path.

Lightning branched from her fingertips, bleaching the night pale gold as a handful of demons burst into dust—more taking their place as they stumbled and crawled over the husks.

No, No, No.

She reached for the gathering night—calling it to her as shadows swept along the darkened ground.

Her hand closed around the boy’s skinny fingers, a pudgy arm gripping her neck as she became nothing.