Chapter 15 #3
“I will never be worthy of her,” I admitted. “No man could ever be. But no soul on this earth desires more deeply to deserve her than mine. I would do anything, give anything—”
“Except your life,” he taunted.
“I’ve offered my life for hers countless times. If—when she returns, Kindred willing, I’ll do so again.”
His smile tightened. “Kindred willing.”
I felt a click against my leg, near my pocket. Then, from my chest, the peculiar feeling of something shifting into place, like a pin in a lock.
A gryvern’s wail split through the darkened sky. Ophiucae and I both looked up to see Sorae flee the palace with his gryvern in pursuit. Blood rained from gashes scattered over her body, but she was moving faster than I’d ever seen her.
“Xipherus,” Ophiucae shouted. His gryvern snapped to a halt. “We have more important targets.”
The gryvern turned its golden glare onto the palace, and my pulse began to pound.
“Burn it,” Ophiucae ordered.
My hand jolted out toward the palace, sending thick swells of shadow blooming around it just as plumes of fire streamed from the gryvern’s jaws.
The flames lashed at the darkness, then hissed to harmless smoke.
The gryvern howled its rage, a glow building in its throat as it prepared another fiery blow.
I unleashed the full force of my power, shrouding the palace in a cloak of inky black.
Never had I used this much shadow magic at once, and for good reason.
There was a mystery to the darkness that even the Lumnos Descended didn’t fully know.
In its most concentrated depths, there was no air, no warmth, no life.
With hundreds trapped inside those stone walls, my shadows could be as deadly as the gryvern’s—
The edge of a blade scratched against my throat.
“I’m not done with you yet.”
Ophiucae pressed against my back. The dark emotions and hopelessness that filled me at his knife’s touch told me what I couldn’t see: godstone.
Vance snickered beside him. “I stabbed him in Arboros. Got him good in the side. He musta beat the odds.” He leaned into my line of sight, a cocksure grin on his ruddy face. “Think he’s lucky enough to beat ’em again? Maybe I’ll slice his head off so he doesn’t have the chance.”
“Vance, shouldn’t you be giving orders to your men?” A hint of irritation hid within Ophiucae’s smooth tone.
Vance bristled. “My men know how to fight.”
“Then why are they retreating?”
The Royal Guard had gathered enough fallen godstone weapons to launch a deadly counterattack, and sure enough, the mortals were breaking ranks and backing away.
“You’re supposed to be protecting them,” Vance snapped at him.
“And they’re supposed to hold on to their blades.”
“Well, the enemy has ’em now. What are you gonna do about it?”
I could almost hear Ophiucae’s teeth grind behind me. He raised his other hand and snapped his fingers. As one, all of the Descended stilled into a wall of living statues. He snapped again, and the weapons fell from their hands.
“Go get your kills and leave me to mine,” Ophiucae clipped.
The mortals surged forward, and Vance left to join them. I shifted a hand to conjure my magic and involuntarily froze as Ophiucae’s mental claws tightened around my skull. I could only watch in horror as the mortals recovered their swords and begin to hack away at the helpless Descended.
“Mortals,” Ophiucae grumbled in my ear. “So very cocky for a people so weak. In all these years, they still haven’t changed.”
Royal Guards and army soldiers fell like pigs at slaughter, unable to even raise a shield in their own defense, and the mortals took advantage with glee. They took their time carving vulgar words into flesh, singing mocking songs in the ears of the victims they tortured.
My heart dropped as I caught sight of Zalaric. In his flowing satin robes and golden cuffs, he stood out among the uniformed soldiers. Alixe and Taran had left to save the Crowns, but Zalaric was trapped in the center, frozen in place and watching with wide, glassy eyes.
I pushed against Ophiucae’s mental grip. “Coward,” I managed to get out. “At least let them fight for their lives.”
He laughed. “But this is so much more painful to watch, don’t you think?”
“Diem will hate you for this. Wouldn’t you rather her hate the Crowns instead?”
His smile was glib, but with his mind latched to mine, I sensed his certainty falter. “Leave those guards,” he yelled to Vance, who looked equal parts furious and confused. “We came here for the Crowns.”
Vance scowled. “Let us kill these first—”
“You heard my order,” Ophiucae snapped.
Vance’s scowl dragged deeper. “Let’s go,” he grumbled at his men, sulking toward the palace. “We’ll finish them off later.”
With obvious reluctance, the mortals fell in behind him.
I had almost let out a sigh of relief when a late straggler paused in front of Zalaric, eyeing the jeweled clasps on his robes.
The man lifted his dagger and sawed the clasps free, tucking them into his pockets, then gave Zalaric a poisonous grin.
And shoved a godstone blade into his ribs.