CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Iwoke with a gasped breath. My body jolted upright with such violence that the pillow was sent tumbling to the floor.
Leona turned from the incubator, her brow furrowing with concern. “What is it, Kaelia?”
I could only click my tongue against the roof of my mouth, the bitter, oily taste of smoke lingering there. I rolled my neck to ease the sharp ringing in my ears, my eyes scanning the room. The lights were still dimmed and the infirmary was empty of everyone save the two of us.
“Where is Talon?”
She strode forward, reaching out to press a palm to my forehead. “He left not too long ago. Rest, dear.”
I gently batted her hand away and tossed the blankets aside. If my dream was indeed a message, I needed to move.
The moment my bare feet touched the stone, a searing pain tore through my ribs just beneath my breastbone. It felt like a phantom blow, the echo of a strike that stole the air from my chest. I doubled over, clutching at the invisible wound as my breath dragged shallow through clenched teeth.
Leona startled, rushing for a cup of water and bringing it over to me. “What is wrong?”
I whimpered, gripping at the collar of my tunic and tugging insistently.
“T-Talon, I think,” I winced. “I think i-it is Talon.”
Recognition flared in her gaze. She raced to her workbench, drawing a single leaf and pressing it against the mirror. Within a heartbeat, a swirling vortex of silver light opened.
She guided the vision through the maze of the hallways and out into the courtyard. The space was eerily empty. Every stall was gone and the vibrant life of the market had been replaced by a chilling silence.
No Veythar were to be seen save for two figures.
Bater and Talon were a blur of dark, lethal movements in the mirror’s eye.
The image from my dream—the glinting, silver knife buried in Talon’s neck—flashed behind my lids with such clarity I could almost feel the cold metal sliding into my own pulse.
I straightened with a wince that brought tears to my eyes and limped toward the doorway. My hand reached for the stone handle but a firm grip clamped onto my shoulder and tugged me back.
“Kaelia, you cannot go out there,” Leona pleaded. “You are unwell. You can barely stand.”
I did not care about the fever or the ache that threatened to buckle my knees. I only cared about him.
“I understand,” I replied, offering a placating smile. “But I need to make sure he is safe.”
Leona’s face twisted with worry, but I hardly took notice. My hand was already pulling on the handle and I was stepping into the hallway without a backwards glance.
Vesuva was a rhythmic friction against the floor beside me, her scales whispering as I broke into a run. I rounded the corner, the hallway opening into the wide antechamber, and my body froze.
Three figures stood at its center, armored in silver and red. Their helms were lowered, their faces obscured, but the weight of their presence was unmistakable.
The High Court.
Their armor caught the lantern light in sickening streaks, the red breastplates looking like fresh blood that would never dry.
And, beyond them, was Talon.
He was on his knees, his body bowed and one hand braced against the floor. His tunic was dark and wet, a spreading stain that made me sick to my stomach. A dagger jutted from beneath his ribs, its hilt forged of a light-drinking metal that seemed to pulse with a life of its own.
Behind him, a wall of spirits shimmered and strained, a large shield protecting the heart of the city.
The pain shuddered through my midsection again, strong enough to buckle my knees.
It was his wound, but it carved into me all the same.
“Get away from him,” I screeched, stepping forward until I stood in front of Talon, blocking him from their view.
Vesuva hissed in solidarity, her body coiling tight around my legs, her twin eyes burning with hunger.
The guards turned as one, facing me but I was not sure they could see me beneath their red-plumed helms.
Talon’s head lifted with a struggling breath. His eyes were glowing a vibrant cobalt, his face dripping with streaks of sweat. His tattoos burned brighter than I had ever seen them, pulsing violently along his skin, shifting and twisting.
“You must leave, little flame.”
I ignored him, my feet moving of their own accord. “You are hurt!”
Before my hand could settle on his cheek, a voice shouted my name, followed by a pounding of booted footsteps.
I turned to face Xylos, who stood in the archway with a heaving chest and frantic eyes.
The thinner guards that stood beside their towering, centered leader, shuffled uneasily. But the leader did not share the same sentiment, stepping forward and tilting his head mockingly.
“So the alerts were true,” he nodded. “After years upon years of cooperation, why must you feel it necessary to free the captive? We had a pact, Master Talon.”
Talon glowered. “Pacts evolve as the centuries wear on.”
The guard barked out a harsh laugh. “That is for both parties to decide. And as far as I am concerned, this decision was made behind our backs.”
Talon’s hands braced against the floor, pushing himself up until he rose unsteadily with a curse. The dagger’s hilt jutted from his stomach, yet he stood as though it were nothing but an inconvenience.
“Do not act as though this war was inevitable,” he snarled. “The High Court was always going to send guards for us. They want us killed.”
A guard to the leader’s left scoffed. “Blasphemy.”
The other stepped forward. “We will take them both. It seems you cannot be trusted to pose punishment against your own.”
All three guards advanced forward but froze when Vesuva lunged toward them.
“I dare you to raise a hand to my kin. You will leave here soulless.” Talon spat, the serpent hissing in agreement.
“Your protectiveness is impressive.” The leader’s longsword cleared its sheath with a cold, singing ring, his eyes locked on the dagger jutting from Talon’s side.
“However, that blade is laced with the silver of the Sunken Isles. It binds shadow and it starves spirit. You may stand, Master, but you cannot fight. And you certainly cannot protect them.”
His gaze landed on me, chilling me to the marrow.
The leader advanced. The remaining two guards fanned out, locking Xylos into a defensive posture and closing the ranks toward the wounded Master.
Talon swayed, a choked sound of agony escaping him as his shadows began to constrict, inward as if the tainted blade was drinking his very life.
The ghost pain in my ribs intensified, as his hand pressed down on the wound, but I straightened and took a closer step forward, positioning myself so I stood just in front of Talon’s injured side.
“Kaelia, do not,” Talon’s voice strained.
Without much thought, my right hand shot out, and the shadows responded with a violent, instinctive surge.
They coalesced into a shimmering, obsidian claw that whipped across the space.
It caught the leader’s arm, tightening with a visceral grip.
He cursed, ripping his arm back to tear the shadow apart, but the distraction was enough.
“Impressive, Lady Kaelia,” he sneered, his voice losing its calm. He massaged his arm, though his armor showed no mark. “You are the perfect portrayal of what the High Court despises.”
“Watch your tone,” Xylos growled. “You trespass in our domain and badmouth our Master. One more word and I will think you are offering me a feed I cannot resist.”
“Keep it quiet, you abomination. As soon as we get our hands on you, we will have you sent back to confinement, only the treatment in Haelen will be far worse.”
Xylos roared and surged forward, heading not for the leader, but the two guards flanking him. He moved with a speed that belied his tall frame, a blur of black smoke and cloth.
The attack was effective in distracting the High Court leader, his attention flickering as both bodies landed into a heap on the ground.
Talon’s body shuddered beside me, his shadowed shield moving diagonally until the corner blocked me completely from the guards’ view. “Get them, little flame.”
Rooting my feet to the ground, my palms turned upwards, pulling a few wispy strands from the shield and coalescing them into a ball. Their long tails tickled the space between my fingers, distracting me momentarily, but a small shove from the shield to my shoulder, had me honing in with focus.
Once the form solidified, I glanced around the defensive wall to see that the guard remained in the same spot.
With a loud exhale, I threw my hands forward, the ball splitting through the shield and sailing straight into the chest of the leader.
He shrieked as his body flung backward, his armor clanging loudly against the obsidian floor. His dagger scattered off to the side, Xylos kicking his foot out to push it further out of reach, all whilst keeping the hands of the other two guards bound in a band of shadow.
With a flick of my index finger, the shadows returned to my hands.
I moved my arms further apart, giving them enough room to form a long, black dagger.
It was a harder shape to tame, my arms quaking beneath the force of their energy.
The spirits squealed as they joined, sharpening the tip until it resembled the top of an Umbral spire.
“Vesuva, now,” I shouted.
The serpent coiled into a tight spring, before shooting out and striking at the leader’s feet, keeping his body pinned to the ground.
“I cannot hold the wall much longer,” Talon winced, the shield flickering with the departure of a few spirits. “Move Kaelia. Now!”
The leader kicked his foot out, colliding with the base of Vesuva’s neck. She squealed and lunged for his knee, her eight fangs burying themselves into his knee.
At his yell of pain, I stepped around the wall and hurried forward, the shadowed dagger raised imposingly above my head.
“Watch out, my love,” Talon shouted, just as a blur to my left had me freezing mid-step.