39. Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Thirty-Nine
T he sun has not even risen yet, when more screaming fills my ears.
Viridian and I surge into the hall. Anger powers each of my breaths. We haven’t even had a moment to breathe, or lay Vorr to rest, before needing to respond to another attack.
Only, this one is much more severe. And much more dangerous.
Humans—crazed, desperate humans—swarm the halls like an infestation. They’re armed with what seems like the first sharp object they find in one hand, and torches in the other. To get inside, they must have swum across the moat surrounding High Keep and scaled the castle walls.
It can’t be a coincidence that Vorr’s death is followed by this. Can it?
Could Vorr’s murderer have somehow let the human rioters inside? But why?
Voices cry out.
“Down with the king!”
“The metals are gone, and so were you!”
“If we die, then you’ll die with us!”
Even as they tear down our banners, set any furniture or cloth aflame with their torches, and push past fleeing human servants, I can’t help but pity them. After seeing Hylmfirth…
These people have lost everything. Their loved ones. Their livelihoods. Even the food that sustains them.
They don’t understand why the miners fell ill. Why the mines have nothing left to give. Why their crops died.
They don’t know about the curse.
What they do know, is that their High King did nothing while they starved and suffered and died.
Of course they’re angry. I would be, too, if I were them.
But I’m not them. Not anymore. Now, my greatest concern is for my husband and mate. If any of those humans touch a single hair on his head…
I will not hesitate to unleash hell on earth.
“You have to go,” I urge Viridian, pushing him away. “They’ll see your ears and they’ll kill you.” It doesn’t take much to know these humans are on a warpath. They’ll kill any fae they see to feed their craving for vengeance.
“No,” Viridian’s voice is firm. “I’m not leaving you. And I’m not leaving them,” he says, motioning his head to the servants. “We need to get them out of here.”
“Fine,” I tell him. “But I’m not leaving your side.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Little Fawn.”
“Good.” I nod, and then we head northeast, toward the kitchens and the servants’ quarters.
Luckily, it seems as though the rioters are leaving the human servants alone, though, they don’t seem to care who gets caught in the crossfire. Most of the servants seem to have already left, though some have been trapped between burning wood and stone walls.
Viridian scans our surroundings. He lunges for a torn banner that, somehow, managed to escape the flames, and throws it over the fire. Quickly, with the banner between his fingers and the burning debris, he picks it up and throws it out of the way. Viridian draws his hand back and winces, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth. The motion doesn’t fully clear the path, but it’s enough that the servants are able to pass. They quickly give us their thanks and run off, asking the gods to watch over them.
I almost want to tell them to save their prayers. But something tells me that the gods are watching.
Perhaps even a little too closely.
Directing my attention back to Viridian, I outstretch my palms, my hands feeling empty. I close my fingers, as if around a phantom weapon. Looking around, I dart to the nearest suit of armor and wrench its sword from its hand. The blade is dull, since I know it’s purely meant for decoration, but it’ll do some serious damage if I need it to.
“Good idea,” Viridian quips, doing the same. He tosses the sword between his hands, probably to get a feel for its weight.
Now that we’re both armed, we continue our sweep of the halls, helping servants escape wherever we can. I don’t let my eyes linger long enough to take in the severity of High Keep’s ruin.
“Viridian! Cryssa!”
We both turn toward the voice.
“Thank the gods.” Lymseia slows from a jog when she approaches us. “Are you two all right?”
Panting, I nod. Viridian does the same.
“Good,” Lymseia breathes. “Myrdin and I were worried when we couldn’t find you.”
“Where is Myrdin?” Viridian asks, concern lacing his voice. “Is he hurt?”
“He’s fine,” Lymseia assures him. “He’s guiding the council members outside, to the grounds. He told me to meet him in the forest. They’re taking cover there.”
“Good,” Viridian muses approvingly. “That’s wise. Noble fae may be powerful, but the humans greatly outnumber us.”
Lymseia glances between us. “I came to get you both and escort you there. The others are waiting.”
“No,” I tell her, my tone firm. “Get everyone out first, and then come back for us.”
“But Your Majesties—”
“You heard your High Queen,” Viridian says. Unseen, raw power rolls off him in waves. “Do as she commands.”
Lymseia presses her mouth into a fine line. I can tell she’s not happy about it, but she doesn’t fight back. Instead, she only nods. “Very well.”
A crash echoes off the walls ahead of us. Lymseia quickly bows. Then she takes off down the corridor, toward the sound, where a group of servants stand huddled together. They shiver with panic, the movement nearly as violent as the rioters storming the castle. They ease when Lymseia approaches, moving where she directs.
Once he’s sure they’re cared for, Viridian looks to me. “Where to next, my queen?”
“Upstairs.” I motion my head in the direction of the main staircase.
He nods, and we move ahead as a unit. Slowly, we ascend the staircase, rising to the second floor. When we do, both Viridian and I turn our heads from Vorr’s body, where it still hangs for all to see.
A group of rioters obstruct our path, their faces twisted with the kind of hatred that only grows from despair. They don’t bat an eye at Vorr’s corpse. Perhaps they don’t know that he’s the very king they’ve come to slay .
Only, someone else did the deed before they could.
One of the rioters makes a move for me, but Viridian blocks the blow with his sword. He barely has enough time to react before another strikes. He dodges the first attack but isn’t quick enough to avoid the next one. I thrust out my sword, and the rioter’s axe clangs when metal meets metal. With all my strength, I push Viridian’s attacker back, managing to create some distance between us.
Viridian takes a breath, unscathed.
But it’s only for a moment.
Taking the offensive, Viridian slashes with his sword. Though its edges are blunt, it’s still enough to knock a few of the rioters back, howling in pain. Judging by the way they’re hugging their upper bodies, I can tell Viridian broke a few ribs.
Raising my own blade, I watch my enemy with a keen eye. It’s strange to think of my kind—of humans—as the enemy, but right now, they’re the only thing threatening to take everything from me.
I won’t let them hurt my mate.
I can’t.
So, I step forward, driving my sword forward in the process. I do so with enough force that my sword, though dulled, pierces my adversary’s chest. He staggers back weakly, but then forward again, unrelenting.
It’s then that I notice how gaunt the man’s cheeks are.
Oh gods.
This man has the mining sickness.
Fear constricts my chest and tightens around my throat. This man will fight like hell, doing as much damage as possible before he falls. He has nothing to lose.
Because he’s already dead.
I don’t have time to wonder how many more of the rioters are sick. My logic tells me that most of them, if not all, are. After all, why else would they take such a risk? Why else would they risk death while raiding the castle, or execution for treason after the fact, if they do survive?
Though, that was Vorr’s rule. Not ours.
I don’t know what we’ll do to the rioters that survive this.
But right now, I can’t afford to be distracted.
Beside me, Viridian clashes with two rioters, one on either side. Sweat gleams across his forehead, his loose black hair sticking to his skin. He counters and parries each of their blows, but I can see him tensing his muscles.
He’s restraining himself, I realize.
I reach out to him through the bond. I can’t take the chance that he won’t hear me amidst the chaos surrounding us.
Viridian, I tell him, as I stave off another strike that comes my way. Don’t hold back.
Across the way, I see Viridian raise his brows. All the while, he doesn’t miss a beat, launching a jab back at the rioters circling him.
You must know what that means, Little Fawn, he replies in my mind. Even mentally, his voice is tight. He doesn’t want to do this anymore than I do.
I sigh. I know. Strike to kill.
Viridian’s brows furrow, amber eyes raging like an endless storm. Electricity sparks to life around him, static blue energy circling his arms, from his fingertips all the way up to his shoulders. He thrusts out his palms, sending power buzzing through the floor.
The human rioters before us seize when it reaches them, their bodies going rigid with a jolt.
Then they all fall to the ground.
I raise the crown of my head, staring down at them. I should feel sorrow. Guilt, even.
But I don’t.
Instead, I only feel relief. Now, they can’t hurt us.
And maybe, since they’d succumbed to the mining sickness, we’ve spared them from a gruesome death. Though, I’m not sure if I believe that.
“Come,” Viridian motions for me to follow.
I do. Quickening our pace, we finish our sweep of the second floor. Doubting there’s anyone in the East Tower, all that’s left to search is the west wing of the castle. A weight lifts from my shoulders when we find it empty.
“It’s clear,” Viridian says, exhaling. He starts, as if to move ahead. “Let’s go meet the others.”
“Wait,” I say. Dread lines my stomach, squeezing a tight fist around it. Something in my gut tells me I can’t leave the castle. Not yet. “The throne room. ”
“What about it?” Viridian asks, jaw tight with concern.
“I’m not sure,” I murmur, looking up at him. “But I know something’s wrong.”
His expression turns grim, the corners of his mouth pinched. “Little Fawn…” He sounds as if he’s begging me to reconsider. To walk away now, while I still can.
I know where his mind is going.
Mine goes there, too.
And it is for that very reason I must go to the throne room.
He lets out a breath, hanging his head. “Very well.”
I nod to him, and then we swiftly descend the main staircase. Taking a sharp turn toward the throne room, I press my palms to the double doors, forcing them open.
“Stay where you are,” a voice warns, every syllable laced with a threat. “Or the girl gets it.”
My eyes wide, I freeze, my hands still outstretched to hold the doors open around Viridian and me.
Viridian’s hand grips my shoulder, as if to hold me back. But my mind doesn’t register the movement.
All I can do is stare.
Horror fills me. My eyes find Tiffy. She clutches her attacker’s arm with both hands, so tightly that her knuckles have turned white. She breathes deeply, and though her jaw is tense with fear, she maintains a level expression.
I lower my gaze and tilt my head down when I glare.
There’s a dagger pressed to Tiffy’s throat.