Chapter 56
I barely maintain my glamours while slung over Ash’s shoulder like a sack of rice. It’s harder than I thought it would be to maintain my death glamour while fighting the poison’s influence spreading through my body. Harder still to listen and try to understand what is happening around me.
The sluggish weakness in my limbs makes me feel like a trapped ragdoll. Completely helpless and vulnerable. Ash’s shoulder digging into my hips only makes it worse.
Still, I cannot hide from the glow of Ash’s sword when he draws it, the sudden spatter of bright blood on the marble steps, or the guards’ cries of pain that cut off abruptly.
Then Ash is running again, and I wish my hands were strong enough to catch hold of his tunic and hold on. The fog in my mind and ache in my body clears enough for me to be worried Ash will trip on my gown while he’s running, and then the thought is gone like all my strength.
“Prince Trenian!” someone bellows. More guards?
Ash doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge them. He only races through the empty palace hallways as though his life depends on it.
I release my glamours, unable to hold on to them any longer. It probably makes no difference anyway in my appearance. My flopping arms are gray as death.
Then, at last, a door opens, and the smell of our quarters washes over me. I sag in limp relief when the door shuts once more.
“Edvear!” Ash shouts, carrying me toward the couches before laying me down. The knuckles he brushes over my cheek are flecked in blood, but he doesn’t seem to notice. I barely have the strength to roll my eyes toward Edvear’s stubby horns as he comes running from the kitchen.
“My lord!” he cries, his mirror clutched in one hand. “I sent one of the servants to monitor everything tonight, and . . . and . . .”
“Did the High King get him?” Ash demands, his touch turning cold. He is kneeling beside me, and from my vantage point, all I can see of him is his tense brow, the lock of long hair falling over his circlet crown, and his beautiful eyes, now darkened with something akin to panic. “Did he get another of my servants?”
“No, no, my lord. It’s . . . Right after you ran . . .”
Ash snatches the mirror from Edvear. His hand slides from my face to grip my shoulder, and his gold-flecked eyes harden as he clenches his jaw.
“Wh-what—” I start to ask, barely able to make my lips and tongue move.
Ash’s hand on my shoulder tightens. He hands the mirror back to Edvear, briefly turns his face away from me.
My heart quickens with dread. I try to rise, can only find barely enough strength to lift my head. “Ash, what—”
“He executed Listhra’s friends,” Ash grinds out. “Lady Shalar and Princess Brolnyr. Except Lady Iluna.”
“The Neverseen King left when you did,” Edvear says, his always steady voice shaken. “It was immediately after that when he ordered them brought forward. One of them is a princess. The Courts will riot!”
“They will,” Ash agrees grimly. “After the Nothril Court and the Neverseen King, Faradir wants them to be angry. He wants to meet them in force. In war.”
“My lord, this is very, very bad—”
“I’ve got it under control,” Ash replies, a little sharply. “If Faradir wants a war, then we’ll give him one.”
“But surely there has been enough death!” Edvear pleads, and all that comes into my range of vision is one of his outstretched hands. “How much more can we endure? How much more until we admit the High King is the High King and we cannot gainsay him?”
Ash’s hard as flint gaze drops to me, drifts down to my chest as though to reassure himself I am still breathing. “Get Princess Stella’s antidote immediately.”
“My lord—”
“Immediately!”
Edvear shuts his mouth, and I can almost hear the desperation in his retreating footsteps.
Ash turns his full attention back down to me, his expression softening into worry. “Can you feel this?” He runs his hands up both my arms. I give an almost imperceptible nod. “Are you in pain?”
That’s a question I’m not certain at first how to answer. I am overwhelmed with weakness, with the ache that comes with it. But I don’t think I would describe it as painful, exactly. I shake my head.
“Good. You should have your strength back by tomorrow morning at the latest. If you still have immunity from my blood, it will be much faster.” He looks up when Edvear reenters—except it’s not Edvear, it’s a different servant I haven’t met. He gives Ash two large leaves the size of my palm. Ash takes one leaf, rolls it up, and bids me open my mouth. “Can you chew?”
I do, and the unusual flavor that fills my mouth I can only describe as vaguely minty.
“Good, good,” he says gently. “You don’t need to eat the leaf, but do chew and suck on it. When you’re done, I’ll give you the second.”
He makes to stand, but I reach out with a flailing arm. He stops immediately, turning his concern back on me in full force. “Stella?”
“Ash.” Speaking with the leaf between my teeth is a challenge, but I can’t let him go just yet. Not after what I saw in his eyes when I asserted my glamour at the celebration. “Are you alright?”
A shadow crosses his face. He takes one of my hands, turns it up, and kisses my palm softly. Wordlessly.
Then a soft but hurried knock raps on the door. Ash gets to his feet, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. Feeling bits of strength returning the longer I suck on this leaf, I turn my head to follow him to the door as Edvear darts out of the kitchen.
“Hurry!” the steward says. “The footman should be back from—”
Ash opens the door—
And a rush of blue fabric and flashing gold eyes come flying through the opening. Ash, letting out a grunt of surprise, barely dodges the sword Listhra swings straight at him. Someone is screaming, but I can hardly tell whom.
My blood spikes in my veins. I think my husband’s name rips from my throat in a frantic cry, but there’s a sudden clash of blades, the sound of glass shattering, and such a cacophony I can barely think.
I can’t stay lying on this couch.
Especially as Listhra’s wild eyes latch on to me, lying helpless with a stupid leaf sticking out between my teeth.
Listhra dives for me, using her wings to lend her speed. Ash snarls something vicious, grabs her ankle, and yanks her back so violently she hits the wall with enough force to send a crack shooting up through the plaster.
Frantically, I roll off the couch, land in a heap of limbs on the floor, spit out my leaf, and try to crawl away. My legs give out. A frustrated, panicked whimper escapes me as something flies through the air, hits the couch just above my head with a sharp thunk. A knife.
If I was any less scared, I might have been able to scream.
“You wicked soul!” Listhra plunges her blade toward Ash’s stomach, and he ducks to one side, rolls, and grabs her neck. She screams, then sinks her fangs into his shoulder. He lets out a hiss, tightens his grip on her neck, and slams her head into the wall.
“Don’t make me kill you,” he seethes.
She chokes, her eyes rolling back.
I grab hold of a couch leg and pull, trying to drag myself away. My arms aren’t strong enough. I fall to the floor again.
“Get her out of here!” Ash yells, and at first, I think he means Listhra, but when Edvear’s panting breaths hit my face, his clumsy hands grabbing my arms, I realize Ash meant me.
“You killed them!” Listhra shrieks.
“You need to leave.” He has her pinned against the wall, her wings flattened. “I never wanted your death or anyone else’s, but you well know that I am more than willing to shed blood.” Heavy breathing punctuates his words, suggesting that she is vastly stronger than she looks, and keeping her from throwing herself at me is taking much of his strength.
Edvear tries to help me to my feet. My knees buckle immediately, and Ash shouts, “Just drag her! Get her out of here!”
So Edvear takes hold of my wrists and does exactly that—drags my limp body to the hallway.
It gives me a full view of the small orange glow Listhra is summoning in the palm of her pinned hand—a glow that Ash hasn’t noticed.
Listhra’s furious, hate-filled golden eyes meet mine, and her palm twists toward me.
Aiming.
“Ash!” I scream.
My cry is enough.
A loud snapping fills the room.
Listhra’s body sags. The glow vanishes.
I barely have the presence of mind to realize that I just watched my husband snap Listhra’s neck with his bare hands before Edvear drags me around the corner and out of sight.