10. Diar
Diar
Asharp voice snapped my gaze from above.
"Why are you standing around?" A tall man with short steel hair shouted above the storm. "Protect your king!"
"But, sir," a guard stuttered, gazing upward. "The Paragon—"
"Killian can help look for the damned assassins," the taller man said, shoving the guard toward the king.
I quickly scanned his features: a fancy silver doublet, and matching features to Ferris.
That was the crown prince. If only I could remember his name . . .
The prince's pale-green eyes snapped onto us. "Ferris," he hissed, marching toward his little brother and grabbing him by the collar. "Where have you been?"
"Courting a lovely woman." Ferris smiled at me.
I scowled at him, and his smile deepened.
The king finally snapped from his frozen stance. "Something's not right." He whirled around and pointed at me. "You saved my life. Come with me."
"Father, I don't think—" The crown prince protested.
"It was not my guards who stopped that blade," the king declared, striding toward the gate.
Ferris peeled his brother's hand off his tunic. "What's not right?" He asked, darting after his father.
Blinking in surprise, I gripped my sword hilt and hurried after Aenir's royal family.
A few guards surrounded us as we departed the gates. Rain pelted their helmets and streamed down the steel. I caught my reflection in one as the lightning flashed again.
My hood was down, and my braid had fallen loose. The king must have known I was a woman.
He'd spoken to me like he hadn't cared.
As though he'd sensed my thoughts, the king's pale-green eyes landed on my face. "I did not think they allowed women into the Shatterblades."
"They don't," I said.
His eyebrows shot up, then he smiled.
Fire sputtered in the torches, fighting against the rain. Buried in the storm, I saw the governor of Kentoro standing in the center of the road, barking orders.
He wiped the rain from his eyes. "My lord, it's not safe out here."
"Where's Killian?" The king demanded.
"I don't know." The governor shook his head. “We found three more assassins. One's dead; the other two bolted."
Drawing my blade, I moved to the king's side, scanning the rain-drenched streets for movement.
Two elk came thundering down the southern road. Expecting trouble, I raised my sword, ignoring the sting in my bleeding arm.
One of the elk riders hung back, but the other threw themselves off their mount and tore off their hood. A mess of long white hair spilled loose, drenched from the storm.
The crown prince stepped forward. "Mare?"
Mare lowered into an unsteady curtsy. "Prince Laiserian. Your majesty." Her voice shook. "What's happening? The city looked like it was on fire. Have they reached this far?"
The king's eyes widened. "They?" He snapped. "What happened in Galasvar?"
The violet lightning in the sky intensified the woman's strange purple eyes. Deep, murky.
Something in my heart tugged, like I was meant to go to her.
"It . . . I—it's gone," Mare stuttered. "Monsters from Ceortha swarmed the streets. W-we're the only ones who survived."
The governor jabbed a finger toward her. "Nonsense! Nothing like that has happened in all our history—"
"Go to Galasvar," Mare shouted, voice quivering. "And tell that to their corpses!"
The king stiffened. "Tell me everything."
Straightening her back, Mare launched into her tale of blood and death, of monsters attacking like legions of trained men.
Ferris bumped into my side, leaning his head against mine to whisper, "You might want to lower your sword."
"Why?" I hissed.
"You're drawing attention."
I glanced behind me. Some of the Kentoro soldiers protecting the governor had turned their gazes toward me. A couple of Aenir soldiers, as well.
Did they not have better things to worry about?
"Have you ever seen a new Paragon be anointed?" Ferris asked.
"No," I whispered.
Muirashi's Paragon, Ishii, had inherited our legendary bow decades ago.
"The storm," Ferris breathed. "It's Cierthine. She's calling for a new master."
Mare reached the end of her tale with a heavy breath. "Killian fought to ensure we escaped. To warn you."
The king hesitated before speaking in a soft voice. "He's dead."
"Yes," Mare breathed, grabbing her arm.
Silence fell over us. A powerful rumble of thunder shook the city in the pause.
Laiserian broke the silence. "Tell me you have the sword."
"Y-yes." Mare nodded.
"Give it to me," Laiserian approached her, hand extended.
Rubbing his head, the king turned to the governor. "We must . . . we need to . . ."
He trailed off. The governor responded with silence, eyes hollow as realization sunk in.
A fort had been decimated. We might be next.
The white-haired woman pulled a large black greatsword from her saddle. Violet light pulsed along its edges and at the core of its steel. A mesmerizing jewel was set in its hilt, the color of storms.
Laiserian took it from her and marched back to us. "Ferris," he snapped. "Help me gather the men. Perhaps we'll be lucky, and its new inheritor is here."
"What?" Ferris said. "Right now? We haven't even retrieved Killian's body."
"If there's an army on its way," Laiserian spat. "We don't have time."
The cluster of men around me became a blur as I focused on the woman and the words she'd spoken. Lowering my sword, I approached her.
"Are they coming here?" I demanded.
"I . . . I don't know." She looked up, deep, dark eyes meeting mine. "They retreated into the shadows." Gaze sharpening, she stepped closer. "What happened here?'
"Assassins. A Solheart tried to kill your king."
"A Solheart?" She balked. "Are you sure?"
I nodded.
The man on the elk behind her rode closer. "Fuck," he breathed. "Assassins and dead Paragons. Am I crazy to think they might be connected?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Liam," Mare said. She stumbled and grabbed my arm. "Are you someone important? Tell me what to do."
"No. I'm, uh . . . " I trailed off, unsure what to say.
"Saints." Mare retracted her hand. "You're bleeding. Here. I can . . . Let me." She reached forward again, this time brushing my wrist.
Her fingers met my skin, and everything . . . stopped.
The cacophonous thunder fled my ears, and the unrelenting wind paused. A fresh drop of blood rolled down my arm and froze, as though time itself had stood still.
Everywhere I looked, pure darkness surrounded me. Deep, oppressive. Like the night when the twin moons had died, and the last starlight had faded, and you were far from home.
Water lapped against my feet, the only thing grounding me in the void.
A crack of thunder broke the reverie, and my blood fell to the ground. Mare staggered back, gripping her hand.
First Ferris, now this woman. What were these strange visions?
Wind blasted into my eyes, stinging them. Turning my back to the sudden gale, I whirled around and saw Prince Laiserian struggling to keep hold of Cierthine as the black blade pulsed and surged. The tempest swept into the blade, and the wind abruptly ceased.
As though he'd thrown it, the blade ripped itself from Laiserian's hands. It whirled, head over hilt, back toward us. With a thunderous boom, it slammed into the road an inch from Mare's feet, breaking the stone and severing the street.
The rain ceased, the skies cleared. Like an arm sweeping the clutter off a desk, the storm wiped away, and a calm night sky returned. Smoke rose into the air from the fires burning in the distance.
"Solathair's breath," Laiserian breathed. "It's already chosen."
Mare stared at the sword at her feet, stunned.
Shouts erupted from the men all at once, overlapping. I could barely understand them, but I knew what they said.
The Paragon weapons had never chosen a woman.
Not in a thousand years.
"Enough," the governor snapped. "We don't have time for this. Confiscate the damned sword. We can worry about its new master later." He turned to the soldier beside him. "Go to the barracks. Ensure they're safe. We'll hold our meeting there."
Laiserian rushed to Mare's side, taking the sword in one hand and grabbing her with the other.
I retreated from the crowd, back to Ferris' side.
The younger prince stared past me. Turning, I noticed something odd.
A white heron perched in the middle of the southern street, beady eyes planted on my face. Though the storm had abated, it felt like raindrops, cold, caressing my skin.
Whispering a warning.
My feet moved before I understood why. Before I reached it, the heron took to the sky, spreading its long, elegant wings. And as I raised my eyes to follow it, I saw him.
A cloaked shadow at the end of the street, tucked into the corner of an inn's patio—the perfect spot to watch the king without being seen.
If I let him escape, I might never find him again. Drawing my blade, I took a breath.
The assassin leaped the porch and fled west. I gave chase, vaulting the low fence and chasing him across the snow-covered yard. He ducked between two buildings and turned onto the next street.
I squeezed after him and raised my blade to lob another spell at him.
Golden threads ripped through the air, wrapping around my wrist and ankles. Gasping, I tripped, landing hard on my knees. The threads binding my wrist yanked, and I dropped my sword.
Radiant light composed the cords binding me—a Solheart's spell.
A hand clamped on my shoulder as a man knelt beside me. "I don't think women are allowed to run around without their husbands, let alone carry weapons."
This was a different Solheart. His eyes were not the rich gold of the assassins, but a striking yellow. Platinum blonde hair fell to either side of his face.
He smirked. "You're far from home, aren't you? Tsuyan's good general must be terribly worried."
How did he know who I was? I flexed my wrist, trying to escape to no avail. "Who are you?"
He grabbed my arm and pulled me up. "Oh, Diar. You'll have plenty of time to learn that on the way home."
Fear pulsed in my heart, and I looked back down the road. The assassin lingered at the end, a smudge of darkness against the smoke-filled sky. He turned away, disappearing from my life again.
Solhearts killing their Emperor, only to return years later to strike at Aenir's king . . . and monsters wiping out a border fort, all on the same day.
Just what, exactly, had my brother died for?