Chapter Sixty-One
Cadence
“Stop pacing, woman. You’re making me nervous,” Eamon said as he carved a small dagger from a piece of wood.
His lips puckered as he blew away the dust, his gaze flicking up to meet mine for a moment before returning to his work.
“I can’t help it.”
It had been a week since Fallon had accosted me in Ryker’s chambers, and we still hadn’t come up with a plan to remove him without alerting his allies. But with each passing day, trepidation crept closer, crawling up my spine until it tightened around my throat, suffocating me.
We were running out of time. I could feel it.
Which was why Ryker, Riordan, and Callum were entertaining Fallon in his chambers.
I just prayed that we hadn’t tipped our hand too early.
A knock at the door pulled me from my worries, and I glanced toward Eamon.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
He motioned for me to stay, then headed for the entryway.
A gruff voice echoed from the other room, its words indistinct.
“Your orders are not worth the piss on my boot, boy.” Eamon’s voice ricocheted off the walls, and the familiar rush of panic burned up my throat.
A beat later, he rounded the corner, his usual playful expression replaced by something far darker, more focused.
“We have to go.”
“Go? Go where? Who was at the door, Eamon?”
“The King’s Guard,” he said. “A dozen, maybe more.”
“What do they want?”
He didn’t get the chance to respond as the door exploded inward, wood and metal crashing against stone. Guards spilled into the room, blades drawn, faces red and twisted with purpose.
“Shit.” Eamon turned to me, handing me a small dagger.
A tremor ran through my limbs as my mind raced. What the hell was going on? I didn’t even have time to scream before they’d surrounded us.
“You don’t want to do this,” Eamon said, unsheathing his sword.
Armor clanked, and heavy boots shuffled against the floor as the tension in the room thickened. I edged closer to Eamon, my heart slamming against my ribs.
“Step aside,” one guard said. “We have no quarrel with you. Our orders are to bring in the female.”
They were here for me?
A dark chuckle rumbled up Eamon’s throat. “Then you have a problem, because you’ll need to go through me first.” He spun his sword in his hand, the sharpened tip glinting in the light.
“Very well.”
The guard nodded, and another man stepped forward. He unrolled a piece of parchment before reading it aloud.
“Lady Cadence, you are hereby charged with treason against the Unseelie Crown, by virtue of the magic that flows through your veins. Being one of the Wraith Borne is a crime punishable by death, and His Majesty, the King of the Unseelie, has ordered your immediate arrest to stand trial for these heinous allegations.”
“Wraith Borne,” Eamon spat, despite knowing damn well the accusations rang true. “What proof do you have?”
“A witness has come forward.”
“Who?” My vision blurred as I tried to suck in calming breaths.
“The King will provide his evidence at the hearing.”
Eamon lunged at the guard, his blade flashing as he sliced the sharpened tip against the man’s throat. Crimson rivulets welled at the site before spilling down his neck. The man staggered, his hands clutching at the wound as he fought to stay conscious.
But he’d lost the battle before it had begun.
He dropped to his knees, a choking gurgle echoing through the room before he collapsed forward, leaving the space eerily silent once again.
A second passed.
Two.
Three.
Then chaos broke through the silence as steel clashed against steel.
Eamon moved with precision, carving his way through the first line of guards before they even lifted their swords. Blood erupted in splashes, the metallic, coppery smell overwhelming my senses and twisting my stomach.
Another guard advanced toward me, his blade raised with lethal intent.
I dodged his strike at the last second; the edge sliced the air where my throat had been.
My hand darted out, wielding the dagger Eamon had given me, catching the bastard in the thigh.
He howled as he hit the floor hard, and the next one almost tripped over his writhing body.
Eamon cursed as he parried a blow, sweat and blood running down his temple. “Behind you!”
Someone grabbed my hair, yanking me backward. I twisted, teeth bared, and rammed my dagger beneath his chin. Warm liquid sprayed my face, but I barely felt it.
Before the guard hit the ground, two more took his place.
They moved as one, a blur of metal and sneers.
I hardly had time to raise my blade before they were on me.
Pain flared as a gauntlet slammed into my side, sending me sprawling.
The impact stole my breath, and the world tilted in a haze of agony.
Stone bit into my palms as I scrambled back, my blade slick with sweat and blood.
My ribs screamed in protest as I forced myself up, dagger trembling in my grip.
But I blocked it all out, refusing to stay down.
To my left, another guard landed a blow to Eamon’s side, and he doubled over, grunting in pain.
There were too many. We were trapped. Overpowered.
I could feel my power clawing under my skin, begging to be unleashed.
"Use it. Use your magic."
The thought was noxious, curling inside my skull, relentless. But if I gave in, they would see exactly what I was.
They’d see I was Wraith Borne.
But if I didn’t, we were already dead.
I reached for it. The darkness in my blood, my birthright. But the power that answered my summons wasn’t the familiar lethal pulse I had spent a lifetime hiding.
The magic that hummed beneath my skin was sharp and hungry, burning through my chest and rushing toward my fingertips. When I released my hold on the magic, shadows unfurled from my palm in thick, oily ribbons, coiling around my wrists and up my arms.
“What the hell?” Disbelief held me captive as I watched the inky tendrils writhe and dance, caressing my skin as though we were old friends.
I blinked, momentarily stunned, as darkness rippled across my hands and licked at the air in front of me. The guards, who’d been advancing, stumbled in surprise, and even Eamon paused, his lips parted, blood streaking his jaw.
“Cadence?” The uncertainty in his tone mirrored my own.
Before I could dwell on it, a guard lunged, and instinct took over. The shadows lashed out, slamming him across the room so hard his skull bounced off the stone.
I stared at my hands, unable to reconcile what I was seeing.
This wasn’t my magic. It belonged to someone else.
Ryker.
Panic flared to life inside me, but I forced myself to stay grounded. If I hesitated, we’d die.
So, I let the shadows loose.
Fighting erupted all around me as dark ribbons churned and writhed, flying from my palms as if I’d torn open some secret chest long forgotten. I let the darkness off its leash, and the shadows lashed out, slamming into guards and sending them careening into the walls.
Bone shattered. Armor crumpled. Screams ripped through the air.
But I wasn’t done.
I tugged harder, and the black tide answered my call, sharper and more vicious than ever. It hunted the enemy like starving beasts, wrapping around the throat of one guard, while pinning another to the ground, crushing his chest until his ribs caved.
The wet pop of bone was the only sound I could hear as blood painted my hands and cheeks.
Still, they kept coming, and I kept killing.
Then Eamon’s voice rose above the din, rough and desperate. “Cadence.” I spun toward him, and my stomach dropped. “Run.”
A blade jutted from his abdomen, the tip glistening wet and stained red. Anguish twisted his features, and he parted his mouth on a gasp. A guard stood behind him, grinning as he drove the sword deeper.
“Eamon!”
Blood bubbled from his lips as his knees hit the ground. A scream ripped from my chest, feral and animalistic.
My feet obeyed before my mind understood, but fate had moved faster. Eamon was already falling.
“No. No, no, no…”
I caught him as he fell, my hands already slick with blood. Warmth, thick and wet, poured over my fingers as I pressed hard, trying to stop the bleeding, but it kept coming.
Eamon’s gaze found mine. His lips trembled as he tried to smile, and I saw the apology there. The promise that he would have killed them all for me if he could.
“Hold on, Eamon, I’m going to heal you.”
“I’m afraid that’s not an option.”
My head jerked up at the unfamiliar voice, and my gaze locked with milky white eyes. The same eyes that had smiled at me while an assassin had driven their knife between my ribs.
The man in front of me was the Seelie representative, Mathias, but the sinister curve of his features hinted at something far less noble. His hand drifted to my shoulder, and an icy chill swept through my body.
“Get off me.” I turned toward Eamon as I frantically summoned my power.
His eyes rolled back, and a broken sob tore from my throat.
“Hang on,” I begged, but he could no longer hear me, losing the fight to stay conscious.
Taking a deep breath, I placed my palms over his wound and sent my magic flowing into him.
Only… nothing happened.
“As I said.” That same haunting voice slid into my ear, deep and inescapable. “That’s not an option.”
His palm gripped my shoulder, and the edges of my vision darkened.
The last thing I saw before my eyes closed was a blade sliding across Eamon’s throat.
Another scream fought to break free, but it never made it past my lips. Powerless, I could do nothing but watch as the enemy slaughtered my friend.