57. Kyros #3
“NO! What have you done! You bitch!” Phaedra screams with rage as she grabs a blade from her holster, eyes narrowing on Astraea as she turns her gaze away from me.
I react immediately, launching myself toward Phaedrea.
I'm going to fucking kill her. Wring her neck until the life drains from her eyes.
I don't get that opportunity, though, as Mavros and I are again blindsided by an attack from behind.
I'm tackled to the ground as chaos explodes around us.
Reinforcements come storming into the throne room, led by Viltarin and Rowan.
They take over the fight, and I wrestle the man who thinks he can best me.
It was a grave mistake. I get my arm wrapped around his neck and pull him tightly toward me, blocking his air from reaching his lungs.
With a grunt I pull harder, crushing his neck until I hear a snap.
His thrashing stops immediately. Breathing hard, I shove his lifeless body off of me and quickly turn back to where I last saw Astraea.
Panic rises when I don't spot her right away, but the figure that stepped through the portal becomes more clear, and for a fleeting moment, it distracts me.
The man is attempting to take down and maim the innocents that have joined the fight.
However, the handmaidens and serving boys, fighting with nothing but what they can find lying out on the buffet tables, fight back and attack him.
A glass flies through the air and smashes against the side of his head, and his face whips in my direction.
I didn’t recognize him immediately, but now that I see his face, my fury grows exponentially.
It’s that bastard Connard’s right hand who emerged through the portal.
He’s bleeding more than he is breathing.
Coated in red, he limps slowly forward but doesn't make it far.
I'm surprised when I see Kellan as he steps out of the shadows to greet him.
Though at this point, I don't think I should be.
That man is a warrior, through and through.
“Pravin, how lucky I am to see you again—with my one good eye.” Kellan growls, stalking toward him.
Pravin gives him a bloody grin. “For everything you did to Astraea, and for everything you made me endure, luck won't be so kind to find you.” He is ruthless and swift in his revenge. He slams a long dagger through Pravin’s eye, piercing his brain and pushing him to the ground.
Despite my prior dislike for Kellan given his past with my twin flame, I have nothing but respect for his actions.
In one fell swoop, he both avenges her and takes claim of his own revenge.
Although selfishly, I do wish Pravin could have suffered longer. But that’s a fact I can't dwell on.
I shake off the distraction and focus my attention as I continue scanning for Astraea.
I’m moving again, fighting through the dwindling soldiers Phaedra’s managed to keep, using my magick.
I hate that I was stripped of my weapons.
I feel like I’m relying too much on the power within me, but even as I think about it, I feel the swell of that power only growing.
I battle my way through the fray of soldiers as I run towards her.
My only goal now is reaching Astraea. Anyone in my way is dead.
My dark sandy tendrils reach out, grabbing soldiers and knocking their bodies away or spearing through them like blades.
Shadows wisp from me like rising smoke from my overheated body.
In the corner of my eye I see Mavros fighting just as hard, both his blades and shadows doing the work needed to end those who attack our kingdom.
A scream cuts over the sound of war that fills the throne room and stops me in my tracks. The sound and recognition chills my blood.
Excruciating pain erupts through my shoulder.
I glance down to see a blade protruding from the meat of my shoulder, and the man who placed it there grins like he's done something he’s proud of.
It’s almost exactly where Astraea sank her blade into Shayd.
A fraction closer to my heart, and I would have been soon dead.
The room stalls as I rip the blade from my flesh, and blood runs down my tunic.
Despite feeling dizzy, I remain on my feet.
I growl as I grip the man by his shoulder and use his own blade to cut his throat.
His last words are inaudible as he stands there wide-eyed gurgling on his blood.
With a grunt I push him away from me; not waiting to see him fall, I turn and search for Astraea.
The room becomes illuminated in a blazing light with divine fire flaring at the helm of it all.
The room stalls as everyone looks toward the unusual flare.
At first, I anticipate it must be Astraea’s magick, just as she cast in Diemos.
However, I quickly realize that’s not the case.
She stands, a picture of shock on her face, as Colette reaches for Astraea, who is held back by Ruaan.
I follow all of their gazes, pushing myself closer to what it is that has them so transfixed.
My face falls in sudden realization just as an explosion of magick quakes through the room, sending the curtains flying back and the sandstone to rumble beneath our feet.
Only the sound beyond that is of the battle cry left to echo through the room.
Astraea’s father squeezes the hilt of her blade in his now human hand as he vehemently snarls—visceral and excruciating.
The sound of a man releasing lifelong pain and anguish.
He takes death into his own hands, claiming the darkness that once claimed him.
The sharp end of the dagger pierces Phaedra’s chest, and divine fire shoots from the wound.
It starts as a black flame and then in the blink of an eye turns white-hot.
The flames ignite in both of their eyes, and their intense gazes lock before Astraea’s father is finally able to speak.
“Love was always going to be your destruction.
Mina was mine, but you took her from this world.
I won't let that fate fall on my daughter!” He says through a gravelly, broken throat.
Their bodies light from within, glowing like a star.
Everyone has to shield their faces from the onslaught.
A blazing display of divine fire. It burns through them white-hot before nothing is left but ash floating to the ground.
Astraea falls to her knees, tears streaming down her face, and the room around her stills even further as they try to comprehend what they just witnessed.
They turn their attention to Astraea and watch as their queen shows the strength not many before her would.
The strength in knowing that sometimes softness is more powerful than rage.
Strength in allowing herself to show the pain she feels for the death of those who were trying to take everything from her.
Our blood bond saved me from the very same shackles that held her father captive, but her blood also released him.
Released or not, though, his oath remained.
He took the power of that oath and the life of obedient servitude and finally extracted revenge on the woman who took more from this world than she ever gave to it.
He turned the oath into a weapon, just like Phaedra did with love.
“Shula,” I breathe, coming to a crouch before her.
I lift her eyes to meet mine, both hands resting along the column of her neck.
I don't say anything else as we just sit there staring into each other's eyes.
She wraps her hand around my wrists, fire warming under her palms until the bands fall away to glittering black sand.
Her eyes lift to meet mine, and her hand comes up to rest on my chest, still glowing with that divine warmth.
It stokes the flame that lives at the center of my soul.
“Someone once told me that sometimes, the demons we keep hidden in the deepest parts of ourselves are the ones who can hurt us most when they finally come to the light.” Her lips curve up just slightly thinking about it, but the sadness never leaves her eyes.
“She was right because she also said that ever so often, even nightmares aren’t all that they seem.
” She pauses, a tear falling and hope flooding her eyes.
“The Senka reign will change the tide. Our reign will bring—the tide of change.”