Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
ALLIE
M y nails were sharp enough to pierce Fabrian’s eye if I angled my hand just–
I didn’t need to lunge for the miserable sod.
Evie beat me to it, brandishing a small dagger out of gods-knew-where and impaling it in her hideous groom’s hand.
She truly was Protectorate, through and through.
She couldn’t die at her own wedding.
Not while I was still breathing.
I grabbed her cold hand and yanked her back. First, I’ll find a safe place to hide her, then I’d face the Serpents and the Blood Brotherhood who’d dared –
The rest of my violent plan vanished in a rain of broken porcelain as the blue ceramic vase I’d been standing next to shattered in a million shards, the white lilies it had once held now flying toward me.
On instinct, I reached for the well of power inside me, but the protective spell I’d cast had drained it whole. I jerked to the side, like a youngling who hadn’t yet discovered their magic.
This is not normal.
Nothing about my powers flickering out of my control was normal.
The Blood Brotherhood passing our Sanctua Sirena ancient wards and crashing Evie’s wedding wasn’t normal.
The hundreds of arrows falling down upon us all was NOT normal.
I gripped Evie’s hand tighter as I whirled us around as a fresh wave of jagged death hissed through the wind, aimed straight at us.
The garden erupted with the screech and stench of fear.
My own terror shot up my spine, my protective spell wavering, as I saw the arrows hitting every body unlucky to cross their paths. Blue, green, red, it didn’t matter.
Everyone here was a target.
Who had the balls to attack the Protectorate, the Serpents, and the Blood Brotherhood at a Clan wedding?
This is impossible.
Someone was either stupid or powerful enough to even dare strike all of us.
Or both.
I pulled Evie underneath the altar arch, seeking cover between the twisted wood, ivy, and myrtle flowers, which should have signified a grand, eternal union, not a bloody massacre.
The priest cowered underneath the arch, holding his sacred book to his chest like it could cast a protective ward, lips moving fast as he uttered a desperate prayer, begging the gods to protect him.
I clutched Evie’s shoulders, trying to hide my fear and failing.
“Find the stone steps, go to the grotto, get on the boat.” My voice cracked and I hated it and myself. “You don’t stop until you reach the stronghold in Aquila. You do not look back–"
Evie jutted out that stubborn Vegheara chin we all had. "I’m not leaving without you. These people are dyi–"
I was dying inside because my people were being slaughtered and I was powerless to stop it. “You can’t help anyone. Someone has voided our magic, Evie!”
The words I’d never thought I’d utter tasted bitter on my lips.
I was supposed to protect them. Each and every one of them. I was the First Daughter they all looked to for guidance. But they were dying all around me.
Evie needed to understand. She didn’t have the training we all carried, the bruises, the scars.
She needed to escape.
If I died, she’d have–
An arrow hissed through the ivy, right between the two of us.
Blood sprayed the side of my face.
Hot, metallic, and wrong .
I turned with horror, only to see the priest’s body falling between me and Evie, an arrow shot straight through his left eye.
His remaining eye, wide with disbelief, was fixed on me like an accusation.
Like he’d waited for me to save him.
Like he’d expected it from the First Daughter.
And I’d let him die.
The arrow had taken him, not me, though we were both trembling barely a breath away from each other.
I recoiled, yanking my hands away from Evie as he tumbled, like I’d never seen death before.
He fell with a final, sickening thump, his book trampled by the dozens of people rushing past in a blind panic.
The gods hadn’t been listening.
Nobody was safe today.
Entire ancient bloodlines might end here. Generations undone in the span of mere heartbeats. Some Protectorate members had brought their entire families, even children, though they’d been asked not to.
There were children here.
The chilling thought coursed through me enough to quench the blaze of terror.
My own fear had to wait.
I was The Huntress.
I was the Protectorate’s First Daughter.
I’d been trained for battle. To protect my people.
But nothing–no lesson, no battle debriefing, no rehearsed battle cry–had prepared me to witness this massacre.
And, still, I would have rather burned than run away.
"I need my arrows and knives,” I said. “Uncle Maksim must have hidden a crossbow somewhere on
this forsaken island."
I reached through the growing river of terrified people and squeezed Evie’s shoulder again, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time. “Leave!”
Then, with my own muttered prayer, I was off through the mass of sweaty, fearful bodies. They would only slow me down.
With a push, I swerved to the side. My dress caught on a thorny shrub, ripping like a war cry down my leg.
I crouched against the nearest tree. With my heart trying to beat itself straight through my corset, I moved the leaves to the side and checked behind me.
So much blood.
So many bodies on the ground, some of them blue.
So many arrows still falling.
The first row of chairs was empty and upturned. Fear and hope wrestled deep in my belly.
My father and cousins weren’t among the bodies–yet, and hopefully never–but I hadn’t seen where they’d escaped. I could only hope they’d stick to the plan I’d tried so hard to gesticulate to them before the massacre began.
My cousins could fend for themselves. But my father hadn’t seen battle in decades. He was not a young man and he hadn’t kept up with his training like Uncle Maksim–thank the gods he’d been at the port before all of this erupted.
Either Uncle Maksim would survive–or he’d take our attackers down with him while laughing.
But my father…
A fresh wave of dread tried to wash over me.
I gritted my teeth, fisted my palms, and took a deep, strained breath.
I wasn’t ready to lose him. Not today.
I wasn’t ready for any of this.
Not for my entire Clan to be hunted.
Not for the merciless silence where my power should have been.
Not for the cries of desperation.
I wasn’t ready.
But my Clan needed me anyway.
I would be of no use to anyone if I didn’t calm myself.
With a determination I’d been born to have, I swept my gaze over the back of the garden. The castle towers loomed over us all. No screams came from those bone-white walls–yet. Whoever had the good fortune and the muscles to get there was probably safe.
But an entire perfectly polished maze of thick hedges and shrubs stretched between the safety of the castle and the altar. Most had fled through it, the river of people now barely a desperate trickle.
Shrieks echoed between the leaves before being snuffed out by the hiss of the arrows.
That’s where I was most needed.
But I needed a weapon.
My gaze caught on the twisted altar arch.
The Huntress’ favorite weapon was a bow.
Wood for a bow.
Silk for string.
Enough to make them bleed–whoever they were.
An arrow rushed through the leaves, embedding itself deep in the ground by my right foot.
A sickly green liquid oozed off the tip, scorching the ground which should have been protected by the Sanctua Sirena wards.
Not just poison.
A purge.
Whoever was attacking us didn’t want anyone surviving.
Not the gaudy, avid Serpents, not the Blood Brotherhood with that ghost of a man who’d dared try to breach my protective spell, not my Protectorate members.
Not on my fucking watch.
This was war.
Without leaving my paltry cover behind the tree, I stretched my arm until my muscles ached and tore the silk strands from the thorns, ripping them further and rolling them between my fingers until they turned into a bowstring. Hopefully one strong enough to carry me through this day.
The next step was harder.
I had to rush back out in the open.
Willingly.
“Come on, Vegheara,” I hissed to myself. “People are counting on you.”
I braced, then lunged, and propelled myself toward the arch, my right hand catching on one of the twisted branches. My hand stung as I ripped it clean off, a rain of ivy leaves and bloody myrtle flowers raining down on me.
With my insides clenching and another prayer, this time one for forgiveness, I yanked the arrow out of the priest’s eye, trying hard not to flinch at the droplets of blood now staining my hand.
I dropped low, vanishing behind the tree again, gathering more arrows in my wake and flicking the poison off them with jagged, sharp flicks of my already aching wrist, my heart a distant war drum in my chest.
The bowstring slid onto the twisted wood, ivy and myrtle still clinging to it, with enough of my curses to make Silas blush. I distantly hoped the louse had survived. Not for him. But for Clara’s peace.
Because that’s what a First Daughter did. We prayed for louses in the name of the people we loved.
I tied the stolen arrows which had tried so hard to kill me.
Now I’d become The Huntress who used them for vengeance.
Just as I finished tying the arrows with torn strands to my waist, their tips dangling dangerously near my now exposed leg, a familiar cry echoed from the maze.
Rage, hot and pure, coursed through me
I gripped my makeshift bow and delved inside the maze.
I was coming.
And may the gods have mercy on whoever attacked us–because I wouldn’t.