94. Kat
Kat
I didn’t know whether to be relieved or horrified by how easy it had been to kill so many attackers with my magic. But tired from hazing, I didn’t have the energy to pick that tangle apart.
As we approached the corridor leading to the throne room, the sounds of battle reached us: metal and cries, the groans of the dying.
“Kingsguard and Cyrus’s personal guard,” Bastian muttered as he peered around the corner. “No sign of Cyrus or Lucius—they must already be inside.”
If these false Ascendants worked for the king, why were they fighting his guard and Prince Cyrus’s? Commitment to the deception? Had they turned on him?
Focus . What did this mean in practical terms?
“No haze, then.” That would make it harder to keep him safe, which was all the more important now his other self was dead. I unhooked my bow from the strap crossing my body.
He touched my back, palm warm on my bare skin, tethering me here rather than to the possibilities of what might be about to happen to him in that fight. “I’ll go in, you stay here. Duck around the corner if they fire back.”
Just as he went to turn away, I grabbed his hand. “I need you not to die, Bastian. Do you understand? When I saw you…”
He gripped my fingers. “I know exactly how you felt.” His gaze flicked to my chest where there should’ve been a scar. “I’m not dying today and neither are you.” With a nod, he stepped out into the corridor.
As he charged, blades ready, shadows racing ahead, I fired.
My arrow cut through grey leather armour, and when my first kill fell, the teal-haired woman who’d been fighting him looked up. Her eyes widened, first on Bastian, then me. With a fierce smile, she inclined her head and turned to her next foe.
As warmth filled me, I already had another arrow nocked, but it took painful seconds to pick out my target. Bodies jostled left and right, in constant movement, so where one instant I had a clear shot at the enemy’s throat, the next, one of Cyrus’s guards stood in the way.
Bastian drove into the enemy as silent and dark as his shadows. He cut one down, then another—surprise on his side. And that opened up a shot for me.
I took it, and another fake Ascendant fell.
In the chaos, with shadows ghosting left and right and dozens of bodies packed into the open space before the throne room doors, I could half watch Bastian.
His fighting wasn’t like a dance—dances had too many pretty flourishes.
Here, every movement served a purpose.
He dropped to one knee, dodging a spear point, then pivoted on that knee inside the wielder’s guard. As he rose, he drove his dagger up beneath their ribs. The whole thing flowed with such precision, it seemed like just one movement.
But as the spear wielder fell, another fake Ascendant took their place.
So many. I fired and fired, taking out my fair share, but there was always another. Thankfully, his shadows kept skittering across the floor, bringing arrows back to me.
Steel flashing, Bastian blocked another strike as I nocked my next arrow. Behind him an Ascendant grabbed the fallen spear and readied it while another approached with daggers.
Fuck.
I pulled the bowstring taut, heart in my throat with the knowledge that if both parts of him were killed, he would die— really die .
Not while I still drew breath.
Jaw ratcheting tight, I squeezed my bow, which tingled in my grip.
Exhale. Release.
I was already nocking my next arrow before this one burst through the spear-woman’s hand. Her agonised cry rose over the battle clamour as the spear clattered to the floor.
I got the dagger wielder in the eye, and as the spear-woman turned and saw me, I readied my next arrow and aimed for her heart.
Shot after shot. It was like I couldn’t miss.
The air around me hummed, and I had to check poison wasn’t seeping from my pores.
No poison. Just my will to keep Bastian alive.
Breathless and buzzing, I fired and fired.
And then there were no more targets.
My shoulders slumped as the full burn of all that work hit my muscles. Despite Bastian’s shadows, only one arrow remained in my quiver.
I hurried over and clutched his arm to reassure myself he was alive.
He stroked my back like he needed that same reassurance. “Impressive shooting.”
“ Very impressive.” The head of the Kingsguard, a fae with deep bronze hair and skin, surveyed me. “Do you need a job, by any chance? I’m sure the Serpent won’t mind you switching courts, and my numbers are suddenly diminished.” They pursed their lips at the bodies littering the floor.
“What happened?”
Their lips pressed together even tighter, and for a second I thought they wouldn’t reply.
“Ascendants managed to separate us. His Majesty made it inside with the other half of the Kingsguard, followed by Prince Cyrus. Someone else slipped in before they closed the door—someone with red hair. I didn’t recognise them. ”
“Fae or human?” I asked, a thin edge of dread cutting into me.
“Fae.”
Cut deepening, I gave a brief description of the fox-haired fae.
“That’s the one. Do you know them?”
I exchanged a look with Bastian. “Not exactly.”
One of the Kingsguard approached. “We’re ready, ser.”
“Right. Thanks for the help. We’re going to—”
“We’ll go.” Bastian circled them, guiding me to the throne room’s double doors.
“You and…” They glanced up the corridor. “Just you two?”
I gave a reassuring smile. “His shadows can kill big groups more easily if they’re not worried about friendly fire.”
Bastian nodded, hand slipping to the small of my back. “We’ll come back for you once it’s clear.”
“Very well.” Their eyes narrowed. “Wouldn’t want to lose more of my people—especially not to friendly fire. We’ll await your signal.”
We approached the huge doors. No sound came from the other side, but lodestones were like that—no sight or sound escaped them.
“Ready?”
Shoulders squared, magic humming on my skin, contained for now, I nodded.