Chapter 63
Kaelis grabs my wrist. “While I find bloodlust to be profoundly sexy on you—especially when it’s directed toward my family—rushing in to ‘kill everyone’ might be ill advised.
” I open my mouth to object, and he points toward one of the roads between the densely packed buildings that slope away from us.
“We get something to hide our faces better than these cloaks, and then we kill everyone.”
“Fine.” It’s not worth arguing, and it’s probably the most sensible approach.
The cloaks we grabbed from the coat check hours ago are far too fine and loose-fitting—they’ll stand out, if not fall off completely.
I can only hope they were good enough to conceal our faces from any hidden enforcers on the way in.
“I’m going ahead,” Gregor announces.
“Wait!” I grab Gregor’s hand. The Ten of Cups flies from the deck Kaelis just gifted me. Even though my magic still feels bruised from whatever happened at the altar of the vessel, it casts with ease—Kaelis’s inking is just that good. “What upper card do you want?”
Gregor is a good Arcanist. But he can’t confidently cast past a Nine. The Ten of Cups will give him the ability to cast a single card above his innate ability.
“Can’t give me a Major, can you?” He has a lopsided grin.
I shake my head. “Only the Hierophant’s card could do that.”
“Damn,” he murmurs, eyes sweeping across the Stone Citadel. He’s probably thinking of the Kings, but in a confined space like this, any large elemental feat has a likelihood of hitting allies. “Ten of Swords.”
“Good choice.” I hold out my palm, and the card lands in it. I pass the Ten of Swords to Gregor.
He snatches it and bolts with a hasty “Thanks.”
Kaelis has a hard expression. I know he dislikes seeing a card he inked in someone else’s hands that are not mine.
But he says nothing and starts heading in the opposite direction of Gregor, straying away from the fighting.
I follow. It looks as though Emilia led her forces up through the tunnels behind the Worldkeepers, as the Worldkeepers are trying to push them back and pin them into the tunnel.
The smoke burns my lungs as I force myself to keep pace with Kaelis. He’s faster than I imagined. The Stone Citadel is crumbling before my eyes. I see the smoldering remains of small decorations. Perhaps they were for a celebration following Gregor’s, Sorza’s, and my induction.
Where is Sorza? Caught in the fray, no doubt. Worry for her fills my mouth with a metallic taste. Hopefully she’s concealed, too.
Kaelis approaches a body sprawled near a pile of rubble.
The dead Worldkeeper’s clothes are singed but intact.
Without hesitation, Kaelis strips the cloak free and exchanges it for the one he was wearing at the soiree before throwing the latter into the flames.
I follow suit, kneeling beside a woman whose face I recognize as someone who had sat at my sister’s bedside for hours on end.
My hands shake as I work the clasp of the cloak free.
“Clara.” Kaelis kneels at my side and settles the fabric around my shoulders.
He already has his on. The cloaks the Worldkeepers use have sleeves and a wide sash that ties around the waist to keep them from falling off.
Stitched to the front of the hood is a mask that he pulls over my nose.
It reeks of blood and soot. “Stay close to me, no matter what happens.”
He’s eerily calm, as though he’s done this a hundred times. Cards rise from his deck.
The Three of Coins is first. My cloak shivers as a cascade of gold magic rains over it.
Threads unravel from their seams at the behest of an unseen seamstress.
They twist and re-stitch themselves with magic golden needles, tightening the fabric around me.
Seams wind up my chest, over my nose, and clamp the fabric tightly across the lower half of my face, so there’s no risk of it slipping.
The hood engulfs the upper half of my face in shadow and shields it from smoke and cinder.
The Seven of Cups is like a wet fog that sinks into my clothing, dissipating with a shimmer. It shifts the edges of my appearance ever so slightly.
I grab his hand and pull him close, my words muffled by the mask and barely audible over the chaos. “Run, if they’re close to discovering you. Try to hide your cards when you cast so they don’t see how they’re inked.” His style is so distinct.
A dangerous thought crosses my mind. What if something happens and I don’t see him again? Three words burn my tongue. Meant for him, and him alone. A confession I’m still too cowardly to make. My lips part, but no sound comes.
He’s oblivious, thanks to the mask that covers my face. “Only if you promise to do the same.”
Neither of us says another word, and I can see the glimmer of a smile in his eyes. We both know neither of us is running away. I’m not leaving without defending the Worldkeepers. And Kaelis isn’t leaving without me.
We plunge into the battle as one.
The temperature is unbearable. Sweat pours down my face instantly, and I summon a thin layer of ice to cool me with the Ace of Cups; it melts almost immediately.
Bodies litter the ground—Worldkeepers and Stellis alike.
More of the latter, but enough of the former.
The stone streets are slick with blood. In the distance, silver-clad figures systematically destroy everything in their path.
The Worldkeepers are good, very good. And they have the advantage of knowing the Stone Citadel. But it’s hard to win a battle where you’re outnumbered three to one.
“Hunt them down like the rats they are!” Emilia’s voice cuts through the chaos. “They will not escape this time!”
A knight charges toward me, blade raised. Instinct takes over. I twist, barely dodging, the air from his strike cooling on my burning cheeks. The Five of Swords summons a blade to my hand just as I use the Ace of Coins to shift the ground beneath his feet.
He doesn’t even have time to scream before I drive my sword through the small gap in his plate by his underarm.
Another lunges from the opposite side. Before I can see what card Kaelis used—before I can even blink—he’s on the ground. Dead.
“This way!” Gregor runs up. “Vaduin’s there!” He points toward a partially collapsed building where magic is flashing violently.
Kaelis and I glance at each other. I can see him weighing saving Vaduin in light of what Gregor told us.
“We need him,” I remind my prince.
That’s all he needs to hear. I start running, falling into step beside Gregor. Kaelis is at my right.
“I’m sorry about before,” Gregor says between pants. “About what I said. Vaduin told me some crazy shit, and it got me worked up. I shouldn’t have acted that way.”
“We can talk after,” I say firmly. “Not the time.” But I’m also not forgetting what he’s telling me.
“I have the worst timing, you know that about me.” He grins.
“Let’s hope not, for Vaduin’s sake.”
We fight our way through, cards and blades working in deadly harmony.
Kaelis’s magic is so controlled it’s almost surgical.
Every strike finds its mark. Every spell serves its purpose.
He never uses the Five of Swords to summon a blade—as though he’s too good for practical means or hand-to-hand combat like Gregor and me.
But he didn’t grow up on the streets. He never had to make inking material stretch or conserve cards, and it shows. Magic heeds his will as if he is forcing reality itself to bend to him.
Never have I seen anything more beautiful…or terrifying.
Finally, we reach the building where Vaduin is making his stand. The leader of the Worldkeepers is backed against a wall, bloodied, panting. Another is at his side, also covered in a cloak like we are. Judging from her frame, it’s Sorza. Three Stellis circle them like vultures.
But they’re not the real threat. Through the haze, a figure emerges atop the rubble of a collapsed wall.
Ravin.
He’s dressed simply and entirely in black. His clothes are as impeccably tailored as his brother’s. But his silhouette against the flames strikes an otherworldly shape.
Even in the heat, the chill of death drags its bony finger down my spine.
“I know you have it, I can feel it on you,” Ravin says to Vaduin. “Give it to me, and I might let you die quickly.”
“You don’t think you actually know my true name, do you?” Vaduin wheezes, clutching his side.
“You don’t think I have only one way to kill a man, do you?” Ravin retorts. He sounds different, moves different—this is his true nature exposed. He’s at home among carnage.
“Give me the vessel, and I’ll let you live.”
“Never!” Gregor answers for Vaduin, charging toward the Stellis, his battle cry echoing across the crumbling stone. Steel rings against steel as his blade meets that of a Stellis.
Sorza uses the opportunity to launch herself toward another. But it’s obvious in her flailing movements that she’s injured and exhausted. Kaelis goes for the third Stellis.
I cast the Eight of Swords, holding the Stellis down so Sorza can get the upper hand.
Just beyond them, Ravin continues to move on Vaduin.
I try to cast another card, directed at Ravin, but it’s destroyed instantly by a Stellis coming up from behind.
With a cry of frustration, I summon the Knight of Swords, and a whirlwind of invisible blades reduces the man to a pile of armor and gore on the ground.
“Damn,” Gregor grunts under his breath.
For every one we kill, two more seem to sprint through a break in the wall behind us. Sorza is thrown, rolling across the rubble, struggling to get up. I try to dart for her, but another Stellis engages me.
“There’re too many,” Kaelis slides close to say after dispatching the Stellis attacking me, not risking shouting. His cards are cast with precision, but six Stellis is a lot even for him to manage.
The King of Coins rises from my deck. I’ll just have the ground swallow them whole. But before I can cast it, a massive falcon swoops overhead. With a cry, it shreds the card with its talons and flees as quickly as it came back to its master, who is standing where Ravin just emerged from.
Leigh. Ravin’s wife.
She’s moving, not wasting even a second. Gregor roars and spins to meet her. Blade to blade. Her weapon whistles through the air, and the bigger man nearly doesn’t have a chance to dodge it. Even though Leigh is just as muscled as my friend, she somehow has twice his speed.
The two break apart, circling. Kaelis focuses on keeping control of the Stellis, casting a Queen of Coins—rubble rises and slots back into its former place, patching one of the holes in the wall and funneling the Stellis through one entry point.
Sorza lies unconscious on the ground. The only way I know she’s not dead is that the hazy blue magic of the Queen of Cups I cast sinks into her.
And behind me, Ravin continues to advance on Vaduin.
Whom do I help?
“I need this more than you.” Ravin’s voice carries over the sounds of the battle he’s confidently ignoring. He stalks, deliberate and unhurried. “You want the World for your modest ambitions. My very existence depends on it.”
I turn, looking at them. Vaduin is in the corner. No cards hover. His deck must be empty. How long were he and Sorza fighting on their own?
“You’re…” Vaduin’s mouth drops open with horror and shock.
“No!” Kaelis’s shout draws me back.
I turn with just enough time to see a Stellis charging for me, sword aimed at my heart.
I duck and twist away, but not fast enough.
The blade catches the hood of my cloak and snags.
The sword slips and digs into my shoulder.
The Four of Swords is already being cast to mend the small wound, but the knight is drawing back for another attack.
Mid-swing, he freezes, as if suddenly carved from stone. The knight’s mouth drops open, and blood almost as black as ink dribbles from his chin. His eyes roll up into his head, and he falls, lifeless.
I look from his body to where Kaelis looms behind him, his eyes burning with murderous rage. Wordlessly, he turns back to the other Stellis.
What card was that?
There’s no time to figure it out. Across the room, Gregor stumbles. Leigh’s blade has found its mark, slicing deep across his ribs. Blood pours down his side as he staggers backward.
“Gregor!” I start toward him. I don’t have another Queen of Cups; I used it on Sorza. I cast a Four of Swords, but it does little more than mend scratches. Ravin chooses that moment to make his move.
The Eight of Swords pins Vaduin in place with spectral weapons of light and shadow. Vaduin strains against them, fighting to break free. Ravin reaches forward; all along, he really did know where the vessel was.
Leigh’s blade is at Gregor’s throat. Her feet shift. She pulls it back.
Time slows to a crawl.
I must choose.
The vessel—the key to the World, to everything I want.
Or Gregor’s life.
My friend’s eyes meet mine across the chamber. Even bleeding and beaten, he manages a tired, bloodstained smile. A sob chokes up my throat, and the world blurs. I’m moving but barely have control of my body.
No. No! I can’t. I can’t lose anyone else.
I summon the Ten of Wands with a cry as Leigh readies her strike. But my card doesn’t cast. Someone else tears it apart with a Ten of Swords. Aces are the fastest card, so I pivot to the Ace of Swords. Her falcon is faster again. Leigh’s blade whistles through the air.
Luck be on my side. Spin the wheel!
I cast the Wheel of Fortune.
The card twists from my deck and vanishes.
A block of rubble loosens from the ceiling, falling heavily on Leigh’s blade.
She’s thrown off-balance, and that gives Gregor enough time to roll away.
Her sword hits the ground heavily right where he was.
He gasps, wheezes, and tries to get upright. Blood continues to pour from him.
Behind me, Vaduin screams.
I glance back to find Ravin holding the vessel card aloft, its light pulsing through his fingers like a captured star. “Finally,” he breathes, and for the first time since I’ve known him, there’s genuine emotion in his voice. Relief. Triumph. “Reality will be mine.”