Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
LYRE
As the drapes whipped in the wind, lightning gleamed across steel. A daemon stood a few paces away, sword in hand and his reddish skin dark in the shadows. Horns curled above his head and a scaled tail swished behind him.
Lyre stood frozen, wondering where the hell the chimera had come from—then he spotted the three other chimeras and two nymphs waiting in the shadows. He dove for the floor, his hand stretched toward the binding weave. Touching the edge, he snapped it apart. It was his spell. He knew exactly how to break it.
Miysis jumped up and shouted for his guards. The nearest chimera glanced between his two targets, then lifted his sword and sprang at Lyre.
Lyre spun a swift weave around his hands. Hoping the chimera had nothing nasty coating his weapon, he caught the blade before it could cleave his skull open. The cold metal slammed down on his palms, but his hasty shields held. He wrenched the sword out of the daemon’s hands, flinging it away—and Miysis caught it out of the air. He slashed at the chimera and the daemon backpedaled, rejoining his comrades.
As Lyre scanned the gathered attackers, he bit back a curse. Chances were Miysis’s guards were already dead. No one would be coming to their rescue.
Miysis raised his stolen sword, his eyes darkening from green to black and a sizzle of yellow magic dancing up the blade. Lyre was already dropping glamour. Strength washing through his limbs, he plucked three throwing knives from the sheaths on his upper arm.
Thunder exploded above the city—and something else exploded in the city.
Visible from the windows, a plume of flames reared into the sky among the dark buildings. Torches and light spells along the citadel’s parapet lit up as the guards reacted. A second magic-fueled explosion detonated at the other end of the citadel grounds, white-hot flames leaping upward.
Lyre darted a glance at Miysis, who returned the look with his teeth bared. Six against two—the daemons had probably intended to catch the prince alone. Having seen how Miysis could fight even exhausted and injured, Lyre figured their odds were decent.
The first three chimeras charged them.
Lyre dove into a roll, came up beside a chimera, and slashed with his knives. The daemon evaded, his sword cutting toward Lyre. He sprang back, activated the shield-piercing weave on his knife, and hurled it. The chimera tried to block with his sword but missed. The blade struck his throat—and bounced right off.
The knife clattered harmlessly to the floor and Lyre lurched back as two chimeras closed in on him. He didn’t have his own shields up yet and had no time to activate them. Flipping a knife into each hand and activating their weaves, he thrust his fist toward the farther daemon. A swift blast of power threw the chimera off his feet.
Lyre turned on the remaining daemon. Ducking the sword, he slashed at the chimera’s throat a second time, his blade scraping across the defensive shield.
It should have penetrated the barrier. His shield-piercing weaves could cut through most defensive spells—that’s what he’d designed them to do. The only shields he’d ever encountered that he couldn’t pierce in one hit were the advanced defensive weaves he and his brothers used .
He caught the chimera’s sword with one shielded hand and jammed his knife into the daemon’s throat for the third time. The fool, trusting his defenses, scarcely tried to evade it.
The blade sank into his throat. Lyre ripped it out, shoved the chimera aside, and twisted to meet the oncoming blade of the one he’d knocked down. He deflected the attack with his shielded hand, then threw another raw blast at the daemon’s ankles. The chimera fell again, and Lyre slung a spell at the base of the nearby bookshelf. The bottom splintered and the heavy case tilted forward. It slammed down on top of the daemon.
Now Lyre knew what Bastian had been busy with the last few days. Lyre’s binding spell. Lyre’s defensive weaves. Bastian had stolen Lyre’s spell chain during one of their encounters, and the mimic had duplicated the best weaves to outfit his soldiers with. Each warrior carried gemstones equipped with some of the best protection a master weaver had to offer.
Lyre whirled around. A dozen paces away, Miysis was fending off two chimeras at once, but they weren’t aiming to kill him. The two petite blond nymphs stood farther back, and one was preparing another binding spell. They intended to capture the Ra prince alive.
Snarling, Lyre snapped a gem off his spell chain.
He activated the spell and threw it into the midst of Miysis’s battle. It hit the floor and flashed. A ring of golden light whooshed outward and popped into the shape of a dome, trapping a nymph and chimera inside. The chimera smashed his weapon into the glowing barrier, but it was as solid as a wall.
Lyre flung a blast into the other nymph’s ankles. He knew the weak spots on his weaves—and how to attack them. As the nymph fell, Lyre pounced on the daemon’s chest. He cast a swift binding over the soldier, right over the shield, and anchored him to the floor.
Not wasting the time to break the shield and kill the daemon, Lyre sprinted for Miysis, who was still battling the last chimera. Before he could reach them, Miysis slammed the chimera’s weapon out of his hand, losing his own sword in the process. Unable to wound the shielded daemon, Miysis tackled him, driving the chimera into the floor and pinning him down.
Lyre leaped over and cast a binding spell on the chimera.
Miysis panted as he pressed a hand to the bleeding scratch on his arm. “What are they using for shields? I couldn’t?—”
The doors to the room blew open and another six daemons burst inside.
Miysis grabbed Lyre’s arm and hauled him in the opposite direction—straight for the windows. As the griffin’s wings unfurled, Lyre spun a binding weave across their hands and forearms, tying them together as they reached the rail. Miysis jumped onto it and leaped off.
In the moment before they dropped downward, Lyre glimpsed the city beneath them, lit by the electric black sky. The two explosions had multiplied. A dozen fires burned across the vista, half within the sprawling citadel grounds.
They plummeted twenty feet before Miysis snapped his wings out. Unlike Ash, the griffin had a better handle on flying with a passenger, and they arched away from the citadel, gliding in a fast descent toward the surrounding wall. The storm winds buffeted them, the turbulence terrifying with the ground so far below.
Orange light flashed.
“Watch out!” Lyre yelled as magic, thrown by a chimera hanging over the railing above, shot toward them.
Miysis banked hard. The spell whipped by, singeing his feathers.
Light flashed again and Lyre craned his neck back. All six chimeras were conjuring spells. Apparently deciding that taking Miysis alive was no longer a priority, they hurled a flurry of fiery magic.
Miysis folded his wings and they dove, evading the attacks—but the magic kept coming.
A violent gust of wind caught Miysis in mid-dive, flinging them off course. He overshot the citadel wall before laboriously bringing his flight under control again, fighting the wind. Lyre hung helplessly, hating every moment of his passenger status. They’d lost so much height that Miysis had to climb for the parapet, his wings beating hard .
Just as they reached the edge, moments from landing, the wall exploded.
A deluge of shattered stone hurled them back. As they plunged downward, Miysis got his wings open again and they careened past a tall building. The ground rushed closer.
Lyre had a split second to decide. Either they both crashed into the unyielding stone road, or Lyre gave Miysis a chance to recover his flight without a passenger’s weight.
Teeth gritted, he snapped the spell binding him to Miysis and let go. As the dark street raced to meet him, he braced for impact.
Clio
Absently chewing on a fingernail, Clio ambled back toward her room. She’d checked everywhere, but Lyre wasn’t on this level of the citadel anymore. How far had Miysis moved him? Would Lyre come find her?
She paused at a junction of halls and tugged at the oversized sleeves of her nymph ceremonial dress. Maybe she should have changed before wandering the corridors. This costume was so unwieldy and overdramatic—not that the griffins’ preferred dress wasn’t equally theatrical in its own way.
Sighing, she let her hands fall. She was so desperate to see Lyre that she was tempted to search other levels of the citadel, but finding him among the maze of corridors and rooms would be impossible. If she kept wandering around, she would run into guards and then she’d have to explain what she was up to.
Glumly, she passed a grand mezzanine with beautiful marble pillars supporting the overhang, potted trees and fine ceramics standing around their bases. A windowed corridor carried her back to the guest wing, the arched openings revealing the angry sky and flashing light of the storm. Thunder boomed, a deafening backdrop that covered the sound of her footsteps.
When she reached the posh guest corridor, her pace slowed. She didn’t want to return to her empty room. Fidgeting with her sleeves again, she gazed across the stormy skies outside the arched windows. Lights glowed everywhere in the city, from rooftop bonfires surrounded by lightning fete revelers to the glowing beacons of the city’s tallest tower. She squinted at the cupola at its top, wondering what it would be like to stand that much closer to the storm.
A gust of wind blasted her in the face and she recoiled from the window. Perhaps that was enough desert storm for her. She turned toward the long stretch of deserted marble floor leading to her and Rouvin’s rooms.
Her skin prickled. Where were Rouvin’s guards? Had he left to join a lightning fete with Miysis?
She glanced around the empty junction. Weren’t there usually griffin soldiers posted here? And where were her guards?
A spot on the white marble floor caught her eye—a streak of red near a narrow door, smeared as though someone had hastily wiped it up. The nervous weight in her stomach deepened into shivery apprehension.
Blinking her asper into focus, she cautiously approached the door. The scent of blood and death reached her nose. One hand poised to cast a spell, she twisted the handle and yanked the door open.
A storage room, filled with brooms, mops, and feather dusters. And, heaped on the floor in the middle, two griffins in uniform, blood drenching their feathered wings.
Before she could react to the sight of the murdered guards, a boom exploded through the city—but this time, it wasn’t thunder.
Reeling away from the closet, she flew to the window and grabbed the railing. Orange fire surged above the buildings, belching black smoke toward the dark sky. Green threads of magic flickered among the flames.
Nymph magic. Bastian was here—and he was attacking the city.
Rouvin. She had to get to Rouvin. Whirling on her heel, she bolted down the corridor toward her father’s room. He would know what to do. Skidding to a stop at his door, she reached for the handle.
Orange magic webbed the doorknob: a lock spell with a powerful kickback if anyone touched it. She recognized the tangerine hue of chimera magic .
She sucked in a breath, forcing herself to pause, to think. As dread twisted through her, she touched a weak spot in the weave and dissolved it. Instead of barging in, she carefully turned the handle and cracked the door open. A deep male voice that didn’t belong to her father was rumbling in complaint.
“… boring as hell. Everyone else gets to have all the fun.”
“ Someone had to take babysitting duty,” another voice replied. “Be proud the prince trusted us for this job.”
A grunt answered him.
Holding her breath, Clio pushed the door open wider and stuck her head inside.
Six chimeras in dark clothing stood in a loose half circle. In front of them, Rouvin was bound to a chair, his chin resting on his chest, wrapped in a sleep spell. His bodyguards were slumped in a corner, unconscious beneath similar spells.
Babysitting duty. Bastian must have found out Rouvin was in Aldrendahar, so he’d sent a team of chimeras to keep the king out of the way. And Bastian had chosen chimeras for this job because he knew it would be impossible to convince nymph soldiers to attack their king.
She scanned the six daemons. Heavily armed and shielded with magic— green magic. Why were chimeras using shield spells woven by a nymph? Her eyes narrowed as she focused on the nearest daemon’s spells, embedded in lodestones on their belts.
Fury blazed through her. Those were Lyre’s defensive weaves. An exact copy of his protective spells, one for magical defense and one for physical. Bastian had stolen Lyre’s spells and duplicated them for his soldiers!
Ducking back into the hallway, she detached the bulky sleeves of her outfit, then cast Lyre’s most powerful cloaking spell on herself. Steeling herself, she faced the door, spine ramrod straight and fists clenched.
Bastian wasn’t the only one who could draw on a master weaver’s arsenal, and Clio would use any and every spell she’d learned from Lyre and his brothers to free Rouvin.