Chapter 113
CHAPTER 113
Dayton
W ind rushes past us as Rosalina and I scour the streets from the skies above Hadria. She clutches the reins of a winged horse, while I sit behind her, hands tight around her waist. Nearby, Farron rides a dark brown Pegasus, looking as if he’s ridden one all his life. He’s always had a way with animals. Probably why he’s always had a way with me.
Our plan is … working. Below, sirens man the shoreline, guiding the newly turned fae down to refuge in Aerantheis. Most of Sira’s army has been swept away, nothing but bones floundering in the sea. Even Sira herself has disappeared. Her shadow throne still hangs in the air, but it sits empty.
Meanwhile, the Huntresses scour the skies, looking for survivors to help or any rogue skeletons to destroy. I know Ezryn’s taken to searching the city by foot to find anyone we can’t see from above.
“Down here!” Farron shouts. “There’s a family cowering on that rooftop. I’m going to go help them.”
“You got it?” I call back.
“Yes, keep going. I’ll catch up.” Farron pulls on the reins and his horse folds its wings into a dive.
We keep flying. I look behind me at the shore, trying to find strength in all of the people of Hadria escaping. And yet … when I look down at what was once my home, it feels like my ribs are pulling apart. Down there was the theater my mother loved to drag me to. The stage is hidden by the blue-green sea, only the tip of its roof visible, and the street straight below us used to house the public baths. I imagine the entire room is underwater.
And just ahead of us is the arena. Has the water breached its walls yet? Are the sands once soaked with blood now cleansed by the sea?
“We should check the arena for anyone hiding there—” Rosalina begins before a gasp escapes her. She yanks hard on the reins, our winged horse jerking to the left just as a blinding bolt of light shoots past us.
“What the fuck was that?” I scream.
Rosalina doesn’t have time to answer as she coaxes our Pegasus into a full-out dive, barely avoiding another golden beam of light. We balance out, our steed’s wings spread wide. “It’s her.” Rosalina points to the arena.
I narrow my eyes. I can see the water pounding at the walls and closed doors of the stadium but some has seeped through. A figure stands in the middle of the arena, about knee-deep in water. She lowers a golden bow and glares up at us.
Ah. My sweet “mate.” Wrenley.
“She finally got brave enough to try holding that damned thing,” I growl. “You O’Connells and your Queen’s blood.”
“I have to talk to her,” Rosalina says.
“Yeah, well, she doesn’t really seem in the mood to talk.” I grab Rosalina’s shoulder. “Rosie, one strike from that bow could bring down a High Prince. If she hits you—”
Rosalina snaps the reins, the steed responding instantly, darting down into the arena. “I have to try to get through to her. She’s my sister.” Something dark and ruthless sounds in Rosalina’s voice. “And that’s my bow.”