Chapter Twenty- I Watched You Let Me Die
Because I have a good idea about the imminent threat, I opt to rush for Thorne first. Wet soil sinks beneath my boots as I try to push past the sentries at the entry to the Enchanted Tree Garden.
“Go! Meet at the courtyard! Find out what’s going on!” I instruct them.
They don’t move and I try and wave them off until I remember that they are the sentries guarding this place to allow Aleksander to torture Thorne without interruption. My patience has run thin. Crowley soars overhead, landing in the trees above us.
I pull out my blade with lightning speed and shove it up into the one on the right’s chin.
I spin low, kicking the other’s feet out from under him and bring the sword down into his heart.
The blood sprays up, coating my face. I can’t help but to laugh.
Every one of them will pay for what they’ve allowed to be done to Prince Thorne.
I can’t fight the need to rinse his blood from the floor of this palace, so I will make it anew.
I will forge their blood in marble so that the life force of those who dared to hurt him permanently live beneath his feet.
“Aleksander!” I roar as I stomp through the tree garden. The trees bow out of my way, their loyalty seeming to shift. He doesn’t answer, but I hear a groaning noise ahead.
The leaning trees are picking at Thorne, trying to get leaves and dirt out of his open wounds. They are ancient caretakers, frantically trying to right this wrong. Perhaps their change of heart mirrors mine. It certainly seems so.
I drop to my knees beside Thorne and straighten him up from where he’s slumped awkwardly against the wall.
“Hey!” I slap his face. His eyes open and flutter closed. “Look at me.”
“I can’t d-die.” He actually fucking smirks as he loses consciousness again. My heart constricts with something like adoration for him.
“What is happening!” Elm dances around to avoid the moving tree limbs before failing and being restrained by them. The trees pull his arms wide and hold him still.
He looks around frantically but his eyes land on Prince Thorne.
“Is he dead?!” He trembles.
“All is well, this is fine,” I reassure him. He blinks and the urgency leaves his face as the hypnosis takes hold. “You now wish to help me with Thorne.”
The trees slowly release him, confirming for me that somewhere beyond the veil, Ivy is helping even now.
“Help with what?” He stands before me as a willing pawn.
“Just do as I say,” I bite my tongue because his languid willingness, while convenient, is annoying. Like having a child at my heels waiting for instructions.
Thorne inhales deeply as if coming up for air after drowning. He looks around desperately, but I’m there. I place my hands on his face.
“It’s over, I’m right here,” I soothe him.
“Are you okay?” He runs his gloved hands over my arms.
“I’m okay,” I promise. “Elm, come heal his wounds!”
“What the—” Thorne finally notices our accomplice.
“He’s under my control, it’s okay. He’s a healer,” I squeeze Thorne’s uninjured thigh.
Then, he abruptly sticks his fingers down his throat. I grab his hand to stop him.
“What are you…” he swats me away.
Thorne, like the clever Prince he is, the stubborn brilliant boy, pulls at something in his throat. I watch as he pulls a chord from his mouth. The chord is dark, leather, and worn. It’s long and takes him a second to work it up. He gags as the last of it comes out, a brass key attached at the end.
“You got it!” I exclaim. He coughs and spits.
“And Aleksander is pissed about it.”
“What in Xeusis’s name…” Elm starts but trails off when I eye him.
I can’t help the fervent relief that washes over me, I grip Thorne’s face and kiss him hard. Elm stirs but continues to whisper the spells to speed up his healing. I feel Thorne smile at me, red rising on his pale cheeks.
The moment is short lived as a flurry of boots rush in behind us.
“Seize them! They are traitors to the crown!” Aleksander roars. Behind him are a dozen knights, looming the way the palace towers loom over the Enchanted Tree Garden wall.
Reese removes his helmet, astonished to see two of his prized warriors on the receiving end of the allegations.
“What about the Prince?” Reese turns to Prince Aleksander in horror. “He’s clearly hurt!”
“Thorne is also a traitor; take them all.” Aleksander wags a finger towards us as Thorne gets to his feet.
“Reese…” I shake my head in warning. I want to convince him not to listen. Convince him to, for once, heed my warning.
But in the end, he’s just an ego-driven man in a position he isn’t powerful enough for, only because I let him have it. So he will take this opportunity to end his competition and he will relish it.
He will die trying.
I sneer at Reese as soon as he sets his sights, not on me, but on Thorne. Elm looks frantically between all of us.
“Choose your side earnestly. I will not force you,” I tell him. I watch his mind work and my heart sinks when he chooses to walk over to Reese.
“I thought you’d make the right choice,” Reese smiles at him. “Here,” he gives him one of his longswords. Elm grips it in his hand, resignation setting on his face.
“I didn’t know what they were doing I swear it…” Elm simpers to the High-Sword and I don’t know why I ever trusted him, compelled or not.
“Reese, don’t make me hurt you,” I warn and push Thorne behind me. As if he needs protecting. “Don’t make me hurt them.” I turn my attention to the knights I’ve come to know so well.
Sir Drystan Vexten, who just welcomed a baby girl. Thalen Morrowsong, who cares for his ailing mother after his brother’s death in the Wastelands. A dozen faces with a dozen stories. Stories that I will end before they stop me from freeing Thorne. Before they so much as lay a hand on my prince.
“You know not who you fight for!” I roar at them. A couple of them jolt.
“Silence him!” Aleksander gives the order and the knights move towards us in a flurry of dark armor in the night. “War is upon us! They will weaken us from within!”
“It is the true mark of evil to silence those who only seek to restore balance to the people!” I announce and clash hard with Thalen.
“Iizyiah,” I whisper as I grab him around his center.
I push hard, my boots digging into the soil behind me.
It takes him off guard and he elbows me violently.
But I don’t have a sword or armor, so I’m at a disadvantage.
I could curse myself for not being better prepared.
My body is tired. So, so tired after the night’s events but I can’t stop.
When my snakes push from my hands and slither around him, he screams. I push him hard into a tree and shout, “Stravyn.”
It’s not a spell I know or have ever used, but it falls out of my mouth as if on instinct.
The ground quakes, the ancient tree convulses, and a branch shoots downward, skewering Thalen as he thrashes and shrieks.
He’s still batting frantically at the cobras spilling over his shoulders when he draws his last breath.
When another knight comes upon me, I’m vaguely aware of the sound of Thorne’s victims screaming after a glove hits the ground.
I drop low to grab the unfamiliar longsword from my first victim.
I sever the knight’s unprotected achilles heal without hesitation.
There’s a horrendous snap and his body crumples.
He goes down with a howling scream of agony and I can’t help but to laugh.
I delight in this rage, in freeing the kingdom of its oppressors.
I drag my tongue up the length of the blade as I turn to check on Thorne.
A body drops and Thorne stares at the action in awe, not taking his eyes off my tongue until I whisper, “Seyno”, and the spell coats the sword in my venom.
“Harrow!” A scream sounds behind me as a sword swipes at my neck.
I duck and flip out of the way with supernatural speed, the spell gracing my movements. The knight stammers and blubbers something in confusion before rushing towards me. I realize it was Elm who screamed my name, and he is no longer conflicted about whose side he’s on.
Knights are taught that we are brothers to one another, and Elm has chosen me as his. He frees one of our “brothers” from his helmet and drives his sword through his chin. Blood sprays over him, but Elm just watches with wide eyes as the body hits the ground.
My heart squeezes at his loyalty, at his need to defend me. He nods curtly at me, probably for putting him in this situation, and takes up his signature fighting stance alongside me.
We’re left with six knights to fight off but Thorne is weaving through them, finding exposed skin and executing his killing curse perfectly. Aleksander lifts himself into a tree to watch from what he perceives to be a safe distance. Isn’t he a warrior? I seeth in disdain.
“You die tonight,” I point a finger at him and he looks so small and pathetic in that tree. It’s a declaration, a decision. It is not a threat.
With careful control of my magic, I twitch my fingers and direct two cobras up the back of Drystan Vexten.
They strike quickly; their venom is tailored to end life without pain.
He chose this. I cannot let him live, but I can grant him a painless death.
I tell myself it’s for his daughter, but I know I’d kill him again for Thorne.
Then I remember the words of the King.
You are nothing, no one.
You don’t deserve the least bit of affection.
Much less, love.
This prince, who’s never had anybody kill for him. Who has been forced to kill for others, to mar his soul for the wicked King who denied him every small amount of favor and affection.