Chapter 20 #3
“No, I will not.”
The blood prince may have been immune to me, but she wasn’t.
I launched my Nature across the tent. Violet and black splashed onto her skin. She dropped to her knees as it covered her, eating away at her twisted face. Her screams were short-lived before the dead silence.
I stalked over, kicking another chest of vials and picking up her dagger.
Damn them all.
Outside, horses stormed through the camp, their violent riders masked with dark hoods and falcon emblems on their chest plates—Drakers.
Bodies and clumps of hail were scattered along the ground. The Sapphires attempted to fight back with blades, but the blood wielders had no warning or time to fuel. Every single dead body wore a blue cloak, none of them with white hair, and no sign of Prince Payn.
As the Drakers swarmed the Sapphires, I’d never been more thankful for the Natureless soldiers in my life. I could run as fast and far as possible before either side noticed me.
I just needed to do one thing first.
Singer was still hanging from a tree, and thanks to Payn’s admirer, I had a blade to cut the club down. I ran through the camp, keeping to the outskirts and ducking behind tents, leaving the blue and black cloaks to kill each other. Just ahead, the campfire still managed to burn.
I halted, hiding behind a tree. I was so close, but I would have had to insert myself into the fight.
In the center of the chaos was a flaming sword, held by a maskless man with impeccable braids.
Lord Dronis, of all people. The Lyonhearted Witchlord slammed his hand, beaming with a bright light, over a Sapphire’s face. His victim screamed relentlessly, blinded. Lord Dronis let go, turned, and sliced through another blue cloak, setting the Sapphire ablaze.
The king’s favorite Draker plowed through bodies on horseback, reloading a crossbow. He was the only one without the falcon armor, still wearing his black leathers.
Riven had come for me.
I went to move from behind the tree, but my arm was firmly pulled back by a fuming, white-haired prince. He forced me to face him, his shaking breath brushing my nose. His nostrils flared, eyes burning with rage.
“You killed Vyra? Another one of my people? Your future people?”
I tried pulling away, but Payn held firm.
“Tell me! Did you kill her?” he yelled.
I swallowed. “Yes.”
His eyes softened, and shoulders anchored. He let go of my arm, refusing to look at me as his jaw wavered. He reached into the pocket of his cloak, pulling out a vial of blood.
“You will regret this,” he said before tipping the vial to his mouth.
I held the dagger firm, wishing it was Singer instead. He was the one who had attacked and kidnapped me. Vyra was the one who came into the tent, blade drawn. I did not seek her out.
An arrow came spearing toward Payn’s head, but faster than my brain could comprehend, he caught it with his hand. The blood prince looked at the gold and black arrow, unimpressed, and dropped it to the ground.
By the fire, Riven was no longer on horseback but walking toward us, unsheathing his sword.
Payn slid his attention back to me, eyes glowing red. “You will learn what it means to be an heir, and when we bleed the same, I promise I will not be the first to bleed dry.”
With that, he vanished, most of the camp disappearing with him.
Singer fell from the tree, hitting the ground gracefully. Even the dagger in my hand was gone.
He took it all except for Singer, the Drakers, and me.
I sighed with the weight of my entire body, letting the reality of the past few days hit me. I had expected to be dead by now. I was dirty, hungry, and bone tired. I hadn’t had a proper shit in days, and had just killed a woman over a man.
Riven closed the distance between us, sheathing his sword.
Sitara was dead. Everyone from the village was dead. The blood prince hated me. I could barely breathe.
Riven looked ready to scold me, or maybe worse. But how could I care?
Luna was probably dead. Clarke would be dead any day now. If I failed to get the deed to Castivian, all of the Dark Natured would be dead. I hadn’t even saved the women in the woodland village; I had doomed them.
I dropped to my knees, covering my ears. Trying to block out the names pounding in my mind.
Sitara, Luna, Trista, Jayzen, Mom—the list went on, each crashing into me like a wave.
My body trembled, but not out of anger or sorrow. It was so much worse.
Riven crouched next to me, placing a gentle hand on my back. Blocking me from the other Drakers. “Elora…”
“What?” I croaked.
He stood me up and pulled my face to his warm chest. He held the back of my head, smoothing my hair down.
Riven had never hugged me before. His body shielded me from the rest of the world as I breathed in and out, each breath heavier than the last.
The Drakers were gathering with Lord Dronis, not bothering to look our way. It struck me that I was a Blackheart outside of the Waywards.
I backed away from Riven’s embrace, brushing myself off. “Why are these Drakers not attacking me?”
“Not everyone hates the Dark Natured.”
Many of them were removing their hoods for their briefing—smiling even, at their victory.
“Are these rebels?” I asked.
Riven wiped the sweat from his neck. “They call them Rogue Drakers.”
I never imagined there would be Natureless people fighting for people like me. If loyalists were to catch them, they would all be branded traitors and burned.
“Will Queen Delaina truly start a war? Just to outlaw the Dark Natured in Castivian, too?” I asked.
There was already the threat of Sapphires, now probably worse than ever.
Riven straightened. “Yes.”
Clarke was the only thing standing in the way of a war between the three kingdoms. His time was running out, and so was mine.