Chapter 32 #2
“We need to get outside,” Vander said, casting a tense look upward.
BOOM.
The shuddering knocked us sideways. Vander steadied me, and I looked him in the eye. “Don’t even think about ordering me to safety.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Princess.”
The three of us sprinted to the stairs. Sir Gawain and the hobflies charged after us.
“When did this happen?” Vander shouted, hooking a thumb at the bright cloud of fairies.
“In Rasimir’s study,” I shouted back. The gauntlets knocked against the walls, the weight growing heavier. “I guess Daryn didn’t get that message to Kristoff,” I said.
Lorcan put a hand under my elbow, supporting the gauntlet’s weight as we ascended. “Or Kristoff got the message and acted accordingly.”
Worry gripped me. Had I made everything worse by trying to win the wolves to my side? “You think Kristoff is behind this attack?”
“I don’t know,” Lorcan said. “The werewolves are unpredictable. It’s the only predictable thing about them.”
By the time we reached the study, I thought my arms might fall off. If I hadn’t been determined to kill Rasimir before, I was now.
The hobflies and Sir Gawain followed us as we rushed through the Drakhold’s corridors. Afternoon sunlight sparkled through the windows. The sounds of the battle outside grew louder, the clash of steel mixing with growls and the occasional scream.
“How many witches?” Lorcan asked me as we neared the courtyard.
“Not many,” I said. “I saw a handful, but I didn’t get that good of a look.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re not around,” Lorcan said grimly. He looked at my imprisoned hands. “Stay behind me and Vander. If things go south, run to your chamber and stay put.” He turned to Gawain. “You make sure she gets there. Understand?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
I bit my tongue against the urge to argue. As much as I wanted to hold my own, I was hobbled by the gauntlets. But Rasimir was somewhere outside. This was my chance to kill him. I might not get another.
The doors leading to the courtyard loomed ahead. As we approached, Lorcan slowed. “Let’s get a look at things before we—”
The doors flew open, and two werewolves in beast form leaped into the corridor and charged us. A witch stepped behind them and flung out her hands.
“ Uci !” she cried.
Vander knocked me aside, and the magic passed us in a gust of wind.
Lorcan bared his fangs and rushed the witch. As she tried to spit another vor , he seized her and bit into her neck. Vander sent one of the werewolves flying with a sharp right hook, but the second wolf lunged for me.
Sir Gawain stepped between us, his sword ringing as he pulled it from his scabbard.
The werewolf raked its claws across Gawain’s breastplate, but Gawain forced the beast back.
Swinging his sword, he caught the wolf in the side of the neck.
Blood spurted. The wolf collapsed, more blood gushing from the wound.
Gawain stepped forward and brought down the sword, cleaving the werewolf’s head from its shoulders.
A loud grunt spun me around. Vander grappled with the first werewolf, his claws bared as he sliced at the beast’s neck. The werewolf snapped its fangs, but Vander staggered back and then roared, sending shockwaves through the air.
The werewolf flew backward. Vander charged forward. With one swipe of his claws, the wolf’s head rolled across the ground. Chest heaving, Vander sheathed his claws.
Gawain flicked blood from his sword and moved to my side as Vander charged to me and grabbed my arm.
“Come on,” he said, pulling me toward the doors. “We don’t want to get trapped fighting in this corridor.”
“What about Lorcan?” I cried, swinging around.
“I’m fine,” he said, tossing the witch’s limp body aside. Blood ran down his chin and soaked the front of his shirt. More blood dripped from the ends of his hair. With a toss of his head, he flicked it over his shoulder. Desire coursed through me.
“If I had hands,” I told him, “I’d grab you by the collar and kiss you right now.”
His eyes widened.
I jerked my head toward the doors. “Let’s go.”
We spilled into a courtyard, where a mix of knights and courtiers battled werewolves and witches. Fangs flashed and fur flew as blood spurted and swords arced through the air.
A werewolf chased a knight into the forest. Lord Seldare lay on his back in the center of the chaos, his chest ripped open and his sightless eyes staring at the Noctan sky. Blood splashed across several statues.
But there was no sign of Rasimir.
“Where is he?” I shouted, sticking close to Vander’s back.
He looked at me over his shoulder. “We’ll find him.”
A low horn pierced the air. The sound vibrated the ground, its mournful tone sending shivers down my arms. Around the courtyard, the knights and werewolves stopped fighting.
Lorcan and Vander stilled, too.
The horn sounded again. Low growls followed.
“What’s happening?” I whispered, straining for the direction of the sound.
The growls grew louder.
“There!” a knight shouted. Werewolves poured from the forest. They numbered in the hundreds. No, thousands. Too many to fight. Courtiers screamed. Knights threw down their swords and ran.
The werewolves sped toward the Drakhold in a wave, their paws kicking up dirt and leaves.
The trees appeared to shiver as more and more appeared.
It was a full-fledged assault. Not a battle but a war.
They’d come to topple Rasimir. And I was part of Rasimir.
If I strode forward and tried to bargain with them, they would trample me.
But retreat was a short-lived solution. The werewolves would shift and search the castle. If I tried to flee the Drakhold, they’d track me before I reached the Feyline.
Vander spun toward me. “Go to your chamber!”
I shook my head. I wouldn’t leave him and Lorcan to face the wolves alone.
The ground trembled as the werewolves drew closer. Howls rose in waves, the eerie sound lifting the hair on my body. Thousands of pairs of yellow eyes fixed on the courtyard.
“Corinthe, go upstairs now !” Lorcan shouted over the noise.
But I couldn’t leave. The werewolves were seconds away, their bodies a wall of fur and fangs we had no hope of standing against. They would tear Lorcan and Vander apart.
Sir Gawain appeared at my side with his bloodied sword in his hand and an anxious look in his eyes. “Your Highness, we don’t have much time.”
We were out of time. The wolves in the lead reached the courtyard’s edge. Two in front sprang forward, leaping dead bodies as they charged toward us. They were both enormous, one buff-colored and the other muddy brown.
Irata hovered in my mind. But what good was a mirror against thousands of wolves?
The brown wolf skidded to a stop. Behind it, the rest of the wolves did the same, halting the charge in a precise, coordinated movement.
The brown wolf shifted in a blur of movement, and a towering man with thick hair the same shade stood nude before Vander and Lorcan.
But his glowing yellow eyes landed on me.
He was handsome despite the jagged scar that started at the corner of his eye and ran to his jaw.
Beside him, the buff-colored wolf transformed, and I caught my breath at the sight of Daryn’s dark blond curls and upturned nose.
He gave me an arrogant look. “Told you we’d find you.”
Fighting continued around us, vampires and witches clashing at the edges of the courtyard. Other werewolves battled, too, but they hadn’t arrived with the newcomers.
“I’m Kristoff,” the brown-haired man rumbled, “alpha of the Greyskold Pack.”
It wasn’t hard to see why. He stood head and shoulders above the wolves behind him, and his body bulged with muscle.
Several scars marred his thick pecs and rippling stomach.
Others wrapped around big thighs sprinkled with dark hair.
Like the rest of the werewolves, he seemed completely at ease in his nudity.
My heart thumped harder. “You received my message.”
“Yes.” Kristoff swept his glowing eyes over the chaos around us.
“I’ll help you rid Nocta of the vampire king, but I only command my wolves.
The other alphas control their packs, and many of them have endured several lifetimes of Rasimir’s atrocities.
In their minds, you’re no better than your father. ”
“But you’re here,” I said. “I’m grateful for your help.”
Kristoff’s eyes lightened several shades. “If my people and I fight at your side, you’ll keep your promise. We’ll rule ourselves once Rasimir is dead.” He made it a statement, not a question. And certainly not a request.
“You have my word,” I said.
Shouts sounded to my left. A pair of witches, one man and one woman, advanced on us, their eyes glowing and fury on their faces as they moved through the sea of combatants. One flung out an arm, and magic streaked through the air.
Vander grabbed me and yanked me into a crouch. Lorcan ducked with us as the unspoken vor whistled over our heads and slammed into one of Kristoff’s wolves, who went down with a cry as boils exploded all over his skin.
Brown fur rippled down Kristoff’s body. “We hunt,” he growled through a rapidly transforming jaw.
When he dropped to four paws, his pack surged behind him.
They leaped toward the witches in a chorus of howls and snarls.
Kristoff reached the witches first, and he clamped his jaws around the man’s midsection and swept him off his feet.
The man’s scream climbed unnaturally high as Kristoff shook him like a dog with a bone.
A sickening crunch split the air, and the witch went limp in Kristoff’s jaws.
The battle continued, with more witches rushing from the forest. Kristoff’s wolves fought vampires and other werewolves.
Vor s rang out, cries of sezat , olnava , and vraka taking vampires to the ground.
Vander plunged into the chaos, his claws snapping down.
Lorcan gripped my arm and pulled me toward the Drakhold.