Chapter 53
CHAPTER 53
A s we run through the castle hallway, battle sounds pierce the leaded windows—metal on metal, screams of agony, the kind of noise that set your teeth on edge. Outside, cadets are killing each other, and knights are hacking their way across the courtyard. The anti-dragon gun is still firing, and I can only pray to the gods that our dragon is managing to evade it.
We race to Shalott Tower, breathless and desperate. Thick, acrid smoke coils around us as we pass through the stone corridor linking the towers. It burns the back of my throat and stings my lungs.
Civil war has finally erupted in Camelot—demi-Fey and our human allies against the Iron Legion. We should be united, preparing for the dragon attack from Auberon, but no. Thanks to Wrythe’s machinations, we’re busily trying to murder one another instead.
When we reach the spiral stairway, I’m already drenched in sweat. My lungs are tight, my chest aching.
Serana leads, axe in hand, radiating fury. Talan is right behind her, prowling silently. I follow, clutching the bag of vials to my chest like it’s my baby.
As we climb, Talan whispers. “Footfalls. Someone is coming down.”
“Get ready,” Serana mutters, clenching her axe.
Talan unsheathes his sword. I pass the vials to Tana, my hands shaking, then draw my daggers.
The first Iron Legion soldier appears, leaping down the stairs, short sword in one hand and a shield in the other. He lunges at Serana, using the high ground. She parries and swings her axe upward with a snarl. He blocks her attack with his shield, but the force of her strike twists his arm sharply. I hear the snap of bones breaking, and he lets out a scream.
Serana strikes again, bringing down the axe between his throat and collarbone. Blood spills, and he falls, bleeding out on the stairs.
We don’t stop. We step over his corpse, forging on.
But another one is coming for us. This time, Talan takes the lead, stepping ahead of Serana without a word. His blade finds the cadet’s chest, and it’s over in a blink.
The metallic smell of blood fills the air, curdling my stomach. As I step over the second cadet’s body, my throat tightens. The kid looks so young . None of this needed to happen. But Wrythe made it happen.
My lungs seize up, my asthma making we wheeze. As we climb the stairs, I pull out my inhaler, puffing twice.
We reach the top, where a vaulted hall opens before us. Three knights are waiting beneath the soaring arches—larger, stronger, and better trained than the cadets. More are charging to join them, the clattering of their armor echoing off the ceiling.
Talan explodes into motion, his sword slashing through one throat, then another.
Raphael bursts from the stairwell in a blur of steel. He and Talan move like mirrored fury, carving through the Iron Legion as they charge us. Sunlight gleams on blood-slicked weapons.
I turn to see Horatio running for us. The knight who butchered Nolan in the trial has his sword ready.
I lock my gaze on him, breathing hard, and my wrists tingle with magic. Morgan’s voice whispers in the dark recesses of my mind, sharpening my focus.
I throw my dagger, and it lodges clean in Horatio’s eye. He drops to the stone floor. He screeches, and then his screams fade to a whimper.
From the corner of my eye, I see Serana’s axe curving through the air.
Nivene and Darius join in, swords ready.
“Stay back, Tana!” I shout.
She absolutely must stay in the stairwell, keeping those vials safe, or the battle will be over. It will all be over.
All of Tarquin’s friends seem to be here, some alive, some dead, which makes me wonder where he is.
Godfrey, one of Tarquin’s golden boys, is driving Darius back. Cornering him against a wall, Godfrey raises his sword for the kill.
I dart forward and sink my dagger into Godfrey’s throat. I rip it out again, and blood spurts from his neck.
I hear Serana shout in pain. Turning, I throw my dagger at her attacker, and it sinks into his shoulder.
Serana is still going. She swings hard, severing his bicep. He screams, staggering backward.He manages to block her next swing and raises his mace again. She slams her axe into his skull and rips it out again.
She turns to me with a smile, and for a moment—one heartbeat—I smile back.
A bolt shatters everything in the next second. A thud, sharp and sickening, and a crossbow bolt slams into Serana’s throat. Time slows. Horror wraps around me, freezing me like an ice storm. I can’t think straight. I can’t take in what I’m seeing. This can’t be happening.
Serana topples backward, her eyes wide with shock. I lunge to catch her, my mind screaming in horror.
Shaking, I raise my eyes to see Tarquin with the crossbow in the corridor, a furious expression on his face.
“You mongrel animals,” he snarls. Ten feet away, he loads another bolt.
Serana lies in my arms, her mouth opening and closing. A drop of blood slides from her lips.
“Hang in there, Serana,” I tell her in a quavering voice. “You’ll be fine.
But it’s a lie. Her light is already fading, and something inside me is dying with it.
Tarquin raises his crossbow again, his hands steady. He’s aiming it directly at me.
But as the arrow flies, Talan twists faster than I can think. His blade splinters the bolt in midair, cracking it like lightning. He whirls, already blocking another sword strike.
Tarquin says something I can’t hear over the furious roaring in my skull.
Morgan’s voice rises inside me, venomous and regal. Kill him .
I get to my feet and rush toward him like a storm wind over the water. The world narrows to my pure, lethal hatred of Tarquin, and I crash into him like a tidal wave.
We fall hard on the floor, and he struggles against me, spitting curses.
Mongrel. Mongrel. Mongrel.
I grab his hair and slam his skull into the stone—once, twice, a third time, until something gives with a sound like cracking wood and he’s still.
I slump back, soaked in blood, staring at this useless, broken thing before me. He was always useless and broken, empty under the surface. I just preserved him in his natural state.
I catch my breath, and my eyes blur. I’ll never find anyone like Serana again—the fiercest, bravest soul I ever met, killed by this little inbred coward.
I turn to the others, ready to kill again, but?—
It’s over.
Talan and Raphael stand with a pile of dead knights at their feet, a crimson pool around them.
I sink down beside Serana’s body, my grief as jagged and sharp as craggy stones. I feel carved open. Tana is holding Serana’s hand, and she’s sobbing.
“We need to bury her,” I whisper. “Somewhere quiet. Somewhere beautiful.”
“Darius and I will do it,” Tana says, her voice breaking. “You take the virus. Keep going.”
“I should be there.”
Tana wipes her cheek. “Don’t let her die for nothing. End this.”
I swallow the pain down and nod weakly.
I can’t stop thinking about the first time I met Serana—her wild smile and unearthly beauty, the way she screamed at me to just tell him what you really think, Nia.
I kiss her cold, freckled cheek, my heart aching. “Goodbye, my warrior friend.”
When I look up again, Talan’s there, watching me. Sympathy and sadness shine in his eyes. He offers his hand, and I take it.
I stand, collect my daggers, and wipe my enemy’s blood off the blades. “Let’s finish this.”