Chapter 4
LILY
Lily, they’ve reached the castle.
I cut down the Barbarian then sliced my blade through the armor of the next one, dropping them to the ground and giving me a moment of respite.
I can’t hold them back.
I took a step back and turned over my shoulder, as if I would somehow be able to see the castle from here. How had they made it to the top? They would have had to dock their ships and fight through lines of soldiers and the village to reach the castle.
They’ve shot some of our dragons. And they’ve turned them into…whatever they are.
My sight disappeared for a moment, broken by what he’d just told me.
The leader is here with his men. Our soldiers fight back, but it’s an inevitable defeat.
A Barbarian rushed me, and I almost didn’t see it, so lost in my despair. But then Hawk emerged from behind me and parried the blade with his before he defeated him with a flurry of blows. “Lily, what the fuck are you—”
“They’re at the castle. Turned some of our dragons into…vampire dragons.”
His face froze in a look of horror before he took a few steps back.
“Mom…Dad…I have to go.”
He nodded and gave no argument.
“Have the dragons take my place. It’ll continue the funnel, and you can kill the ones who make it past.” I didn’t have time to say much else to my brother.
I had to get to the castle before they broke down the double doors and found my parents barricaded in their chambers. Zehemoth, take me to the castle now.
He flew out of the darkness and came into my sight before he landed with a thud. My father has informed me. Hurry.
I climbed up the straps of the harness quicker than I ever had, and Zehemoth was off the ground before I had a grip on the horn. I nearly fell off before he launched himself into the sky like a cannonball.
He beat his wings hard, and we covered ground quickly, rising farther up to the top height of the cliffs.
When we drew closer, I could see the horror. See Khazmuda fight several dragons in the sky at once, dodging their fire and their sharp tails. Golden spikes jutted out of the dragons that had been turned into evil creatures, neither alive nor dead.
It was a disturbing sight. “Help your father, Zehemoth.”
What about you? You don’t have anyone else—
“I don’t need anyone else.”
When Zehemoth reached the courtyard, he landed so hard his front legs buckled and he almost threw me off.
I slid down his back leg then rolled when I reached the stone ground of the courtyard. I pulled out my blade and marched forward as I heard Zehemoth’s wings beating when he returned to the sky. He roared as he announced his arrival. “Roooaaaaarrrrr!”
There were a dozen Barbarians fighting the soldiers who continued to protect the keep, not outnumbered but clearly outmatched by the demonic beings who walked this earth.
I recognized the leader I’d encountered in the forest and King Ithaca’s throne room. His armor and uniform were different from the others, and of course, his face was concealed by the gold mask.
Rage pounded so hard in my chest I thought my heart might explode. I spun the blade around my wrist as I banged my fist against my chest and emitted a war cry I’d never uttered before, releasing the ferocity that had built up in my body all this time.
He cut down the soldier who had his attention then turned to me, unafraid to turn his back to the battle that continued to play out.
Only his eyes were visible, and at this distance, it was hard to make them out.
He cocked his head slightly sideways, regarding me like a bug rather than a serious opponent.
The dragons continued to fight overhead, jets of fire coming from the sky, roars releasing into the darkness.
For a brief moment, I had an out-of-body experience, picturing a similar night decades into the past, my father standing in the light of the fires with his blade gripped tightly in his angry knuckles.
He stood alone against his assailants, against the people who had taken away everyone he loved most.
I gripped my sword as I felt a surge of strength that came from somewhere else, not the god who continued to grant me his strength, not the dragon who shared my soul, but from a whole other place.
From myself.
From the Rothschild blood in my veins. From the strength of my ancestors long dead. From the spirit of my father, who clung to life on the other side of those doors. I didn’t need the army of the dead to win this battle.
I was enough.
The soldiers who bravely protected the keep had all been slain, their dead bodies littered on the ground like trash.
The dozen Barbarians turned their attention on me, coming to their leader’s side, their armor different from the vampires I’d slain in the southern battlefield.
Black and maroon with gold accents, they looked more like generals, the finest soldiers ordered to protect their king.
Their leader stepped forward, the hilt of his blade grasped in his golden knuckles. His maroon hood covered the tops and sides of his face. “We meet again, Lily Rothschild. But I suspect you’ve met me far more often than I’ve met you.”
I didn’t let his words distract me. Everything my father taught me came back to me, that words were a different kind of weapon. They assaulted the mind and lowered physical defenses. As he drew close to me, I continued to pivot my body toward him, to make sure I was ready for an unexpected assault.
“King Kennt of the Barbarians—and now the Southern Isles.”
“Not while I still stand,” I said calmly, not letting my heart rate rise to his provocations. My focus was sharper than the edge of a blade, and I kept it there.
“Your fleet is overwhelmed. Your dragons continue to fall from the sky and become creatures of the darkness. Your army to the south will be destroyed by vampires—including your brother.” He kept striding forward, his men stopping behind him and letting the distance grow.
“Tell me, do you want your brother to end up like them? To feast on the blood of mortals to sustain his immortality—”
“Your words bounce off my armor just as your sword will.” I maintained my calm, anxious to raise my blade against his and let that be the conversation that mattered.
He came to a stop, his golden blade even more brilliant in the light of the bonfires. “Even if you’re lucky enough to defeat me, the battle will still be lost, Lily. But you have the chance to put an end to it—right here.”
I said nothing, focused on my posture and my feet, studying his body in anticipation of the first move.
“Agree to be my wife and rule the Southern Isles together—and this war ends.”
“No.”
“Surely you must know you’ve already lost this battle—”
I slammed my fist hard into my chest and made a thud so loud it echoed in the courtyard.
“I know that I will slice your head from your shoulders and feed it to my dragon. That I will cut down your bodyguards and let their burned flesh taint the smell of blossoms in the air. I know that the Southern Isles will have many casualties in this battle—but we won’t lose the war.
Now shut your mouth and fight me because I’ve been waiting for this moment since you stabbed my father. ”
“You have no chance to prevail—”
“Let’s see, shall we?” I banged my fist against my chest again, but this time, I did it repeatedly, creating the sound of war drums on my own without an army, just me against a dozen of Kennt’s finest.
He watched me behind the confines of his golden mask before he turned to his men behind him. He said something that was hard to hear over the noise of my beating fist, but it sounded like, “Take her alive.”
He finally turned back to me and spun his blade around his wrist.
My fist dropped from my chest, and I straightened my spine and shoulders, the blade in my grasp suddenly feeling heavy when I thought about the opponents I had to face on my own. They barred my way to the castle, where my mother stood at my father’s side, prepared to die to protect him if I failed.
Kennt moved toward me as his men joined his ranks—and they all came for me.
I pictured my father’s face, the pride in his eyes when we finished a sparring match. The way he gripped my shoulder and told me how proud he was. The way he always said I would be a better ruler than any man in the kingdom.
His life was in my hands…and I felt that heaviness in my blade.
I watched them converge on me, watched them change the grips on their blades as they decided how they would strike me.
Then I heard Khazmuda’s voice in my head. He feels you, Lily.
I sucked in a harsh breath as I stepped back.
Then I heard my father’s own voice in my head, channeled through his fuse with Khazmuda and my fuse with Zehemoth, our minds momentarily connected for an instant before he slipped away. With the voice of a fearless king, ironclad in confidence, he spoke to me. Defeat them, Lily.
The second I heard it was the second I knew he was gone, back under the subconscious veil where he remained prisoner to his mortal wound. I felt the burn in my eyes as a wave of moisture filled my gaze, an emotion so profound for a moment it left me breathless…and then invigorated me.
A strength more powerful than the command of the dead, the power of a god, and the ferocity of a dragon fueled me. My father’s love.
I rushed forward—and the battle began.
Kennt caught my blade with his and made a flurry of hits with his sword, just as fast as the vampires I’d fought below but with more intention in his hits. He wasn’t fueled by orders like the others, but the desire for a conquest.