Chapter Twenty-Seven
I will do what I say, and nothing and no one can stop me.
There was only one way to reach my destination alive: with unflinching confidence. No hesitation. No backing down. Anything else would set off alarms.
Head high, I opened the suite door and marched into the hall as if I had somewhere important to be, because I’d been summoned by someone important. Honestly, I had. In Soal’s welcome letter to me, he’d instructed me to read my books. So. A summons. By a god.
“Lead me to the temple,” I demanded. The Rock was on the way.
The creature accelerated, pulling ahead.
“I’m gonna call you Nine,” I muttered.
It provided zero feedback, robot-dog speak for don’t care.
As we traveled the corridors, I removed my weapon of choice. Two bracelets I would shake into daggers at the right moment. If I could shred the meta’s circuits, it couldn’t follow me into the rift room.
My heart thundered harder with every hallway closer. I hoped Domino’s fog would sweep toward us, confusing my metal companion. Alas.
I held my breath as we rounded the final corner. Two armed guards waited at every door. Eight in total. Very well. I cobbled together a plan. Rip out Nine’s wires, blow powder at everyone else.
Someone exited the temple beyond the hallway and strode in our direction. My spirit sank. Mr. Vyle. He wore a pristine, tailored suit and whistled under his breath, nothing like his blood-splattered future version.
My skin flushed hot with fury at the reminder. This man, this executioner, had sat, utterly unmoved, as Domino swung from the rafters toes up, bleeding to death.
Mr. Vyle’s gaze lit on me, and his gait slowed.
Clearly he intended to have a conversation.
I performed a quick calculation. If I proceeded full steam ahead, all of CURED would learn of my allegiance to Soal.
Cyrus already knew, which meant Astan must know, though so far he’d chosen not to reveal it.
Which didn’t seem like the god’s MO. Maybe he couldn’t tell?
But also, maybe he could. Either way, if I did this, I would be labeled a worldswide traitor, and rightfully so.
I’d be hunted. If I managed to survive the ensuing battle with the executioner, of course. And there would be a battle.
If I didn’t fight to reach Soal, Cyrus would wake up before I read my book and received instruction. Astan would seek a bond before I had a chance to help him. All could be lost.
Very well. So be it. Today, I stopped hiding. For Cyrus, I would do anything, even this.
Nine slowed and moved to the side, offering me a straight shot to Mr. Vyle.
“Hello, Lady Roosa.” The executioner adjusted his wrist cuff. “Might I inquire why you’re visiting the temple without Emperor Cyrus?”
Well, well. Mr. Vyle already considered Cyrus his leader.
“You may do so, yes.” Forget starting my opening strike with Nine. Mr. Vyle was the bigger threat. For all I knew, Cyrus had commanded the dog not to harm me for any reason. “I politely decline to answer.”
A flash of surprise crossed Mr. Vyle’s face. My cue. As Cyrus taught me, if battle is inevitable, strike first, strike hard, and strike fast. Up first, taking out as many opponents as possible.
I launched into action, sweeping the jewel of a ring aside and spinning, blowing powder in every direction. Multiple guards collapsed. Mr. Vyle stumbled several steps, but he didn’t fall.
With a flick of my wrists, the bracelets clicked into blades.
I lunged and slashed. Contact. The tip sliced through the midsection of a guard, Mr. Vyle, then another guard.
The soldiers crumbled, clutching gushing wounds, but again Mr. Vyle remained on his feet.
His wound bled for a moment, but the flow ceased within seconds.
He drew back his arm, intending to punch me. A growling Nine jumped between us. Good boy.
Mr. Vyle paused. Comprehension lit his eyes a split second before his entire countenance changed. His features sharpened, and his pupils slitted with a glowing golden outline. Smoke curled from his nostrils, and black claws grew from his nail beds.
“Soalian,” he hissed, revealing a forked tongue.
Nine attacked, but Vyle shredded the metal beast in seconds. Realization and horror collided. Vyle hosted Bala, Astan’s pet.
With an inhuman roar, he launched at me. We slammed together, flying to the floor. Impact shoved air from my lungs. Pain and dizziness welled, but they dulled in a storm of adrenaline.
When Vyle swung a hard fist at my face, I rolled to the side. More stings flared and dulled as I twisted and kicked, punting him in the nose. Cartilage snapped, and blood spurted.
I clambered to my feet, and new guards swooped in, imprisoning me. Fingers pulled my hair, squeezed my biceps, and shackled my wrists.
Through some miracle, I fought free and dove for the door to the rift room.
But Vyle spun in front of it and slapped me, raking thick, black claws across my cheek.
Searing agony, faltering vision. He kicked and I flew into a wall, cracking stone.
My brain rattled against my skull, and my lungs emptied again.
Dizziness roared back in a thunderous whirlwind as adrenaline dwindled. How much longer could I hold him off?
As long as it takes. I was Soalian. I could do anything.
A sudden, unexpected tide of strength swept through my limbs, flowing from my bond to Domino. Power up, baby! I recovered quickly, stopping a subsequent strike. But Vyle was faster and stronger than feeders. It wasn’t long before his fist collided with my forearm, shattering bone.
Agony not even my bond to the librarian could dull. Black dots winked through my vision. Vomit readied.
Vyle drew back his elbow to deliver another strike. I moved to parry when a scowling robed man ghosted through him.
Domino whooshed inside me. Click. Instantly healed and running on pure, undiluted octane, I shot off like a rocket, attacking everyone within reach with a skill I’d never learned.
Unlike before, when I jumped between bodies, we remained connected, the librarian’s mind open to me and mine to him. Vyle must have sensed his presence; he backed off, giving the guards a chance to subdue us.
Where have you been? I bellowed inside my head.
Through the bond, he heard.
If you knew half the things I had to do to get here . . . His growly words filled my head, an all-consuming tide drowning my anger.
We hobbled the remaining guards, our expert teamwork heralding the screech of an alarm. Dang it! Other soldiers would arrive any second, yet we had a final obstacle: Vyle.
With his patented almost grin, he trained his harbinger on us. “You can’t beat me,” he stated, smug.
“We don’t have to. You’re already defeated.” Domino pushed the words from my tongue. I soaked up his confidence and swagger, gulping straight from the tap. “Tsuri comes. You are soon to drink the cup of his wrath.”
I didn’t know the specifics of the threat, but what a threat it was. My skin bristled with goose bumps, as if the air itself electrified. Vyle turned ashen.
Flawlessly in sync, the librarian and I stepped forward, unafraid.
Our challenger reacted with a flurry of urgency, hammering at the gun’s trigger.
Bullets zoomed our way. Perhaps I was seeing through Domino’s eyes.
I watched those little missiles approach in slow motion.
I could have moved aside but didn’t bother; there was no need.
My body flickered in and out of intangibility, going from solid to mist and back to solid all within a heartbeat.
The bullets flew through different sections of my torso, spraying the soldiers who had entered the hallway behind me. Down they fell.
Shock glittered in Vyle’s eyes. He ejected the clip, shoved in an extra, and fired anew. As Domino and I walked . . . jogged . . . sprinted forward, we twirled the makeshift daggers made from the bracelets and misted as necessary. Almost within striking distance . . .
With one swing, we would remove the executioner’s head.
We lifted the blades.
Boom!
A new shot rang out from behind us. A white-hot pang stung my side, and I jerked as Domino was shoved out of my body. Anguish pulsed in every inch of me. Blood poured down my side. Panting, I craned my head to glance over my shoulder.
Roman held a smoking gun. He sighed with displeasure. “I told you we weren’t friends, Ardie.”
“From behind?” I spat as my knees buckled. “Coward.”
“That wasn’t a kill shot,” he told me, unabashed. “Just a little trim to ensure you stay put.”
New guards poured into the hall. They bypassed the lord-in-training and came straight to me, binding my wrists with metal cuffs and hauling me roughly to my feet. My gaze remained on Domino, my sole source of comfort.
“They won’t kill you,” he stated, panting as if he, too, experienced pain.
“Briar Rose hasn’t rendered her final decision, which means you’re still in the running.
Cyrus, even as Astan, won’t let anyone end you—yet.
I’ll return, and we’ll get you out of here.
Survive, Arden. That’s all you must do.”
He vanished before I could respond. Good thing. I only gurgled a series of incomprehensible noises. I’d lost. I’d taken a gamble, and I’d lost. Now, all of CURED knew what I was, and there was no going back.
Sickness churned in my belly as a grinning Vyle approached. “You almost had me convinced you’d chosen CURED.” He sheathed his gun. “You were a much worthier opponent than I’d expected.”
Were. Past tense. As if he no longer saw me as a threat.
As the alarm died, a new voice rang out. “Explain.”
A single-word command Mr. Vyle heeded without delay as Cyrus marched our way. “Lady Roosa attempted to sneak to the Rock. When I sought to apprehend her, she fought. This is the result of her capture. She is Soalian, Majesty. A powerful glower, judging by her movements.”
“Her affiliation isn’t your concern.” He looked between us, lingering on me several beats longer, his fury growing.