Chapter Twenty-one
THEA
A roar ripped through the night and a wind as sharp as daggers whipped through the throngs of people, slamming windows shut, causing the whole dome to rattle.
Thea and Wilder were suddenly caught in the wave of desperate people fleeing the chaos, trampling one another to get away, their faces etched with terror and desperation.
Thea’s heart was racing as she tried to find the source of that roar.
It was no reaper, no shadow wraith, but something else.
She saw nothing but the clawing of limbs and the wide-eyed panic of the nobles around her.
Wilder tried to brace her against his chest and shield her from the onslaught, but she pulled him with her, ducking into the masses.
They stood no chance against the tide of terrified people.
They had to move with the throng, if only to stand their ground within it.
The candles inside had been snuffed out, and the unending eclipse beyond the glass walls illuminated no sign of the creature that had caused the mayhem.
Thea tightened her grip on Wilder’s hand, not willing to be separated yet, not when he had no means of defence, and she had only her throwing stars and her dagger.
He seemed to have the same thought, scanning the space around them for a makeshift weapon.
Thea dropped his hand and unsheathed her dagger, holding it out to him.
‘Keep it,’ Wilder growled, seizing a chair and breaking off two of its legs.
She didn’t argue, but reached for her skirts, tearing them from her legs for ease of movement, plucking several throwing stars from the straps around her thighs while she was at it.
Another near-deafening roar sounded from the balcony, spurring him and Thea into action as human screams echoed across the dance floor. Glass shattered as vendors’ tables were knocked over like dominoes in the crowd’s bid to escape the darkness that now lashed through the open doors.
‘What the fuck is that?’
Cal had appeared, holding two candlesticks above his head like clubs.
‘No idea. Not a wraith or a reaper,’ Thea called. ‘Where’s Kipp?’
‘Went to get our swords,’ he replied, scanning the handful of unarmed Guardians around them and the royals cowering behind their guards on the stage amid the orchestra’s abandoned instruments.
Thea palmed her dagger as the balcony outside groaned beneath the weight of something monstrous. ‘Feels like a set-up.’
‘No shit.’ Torj appeared at Cal’s side, brandishing two iron pokers from the great hearth. ‘Long time no see, Apprentice.’
Cal grinned. ‘Good time for a reunion, I’d say.’
Thea looked to Wilder, who still wore his mask, but in such familiar company, there was no hiding who he was.
‘You should go,’ she hissed, trying to push him subtly towards the door. ‘Go while you still can.’
He didn’t move an inch. ‘There’s nothing in the world that can take me from you now,’ he said. And then, with a glance at Torj: ‘Besides, who’d you think helped me get out?’
Thea wove through the remaining fleeing nobles towards the stage. ‘Fuck,’ she cursed when she spotted who cowered amid the shattered harps and violins: Princess Jasira, Queen Reyna and King Elkan, with no sign of the other rulers, or their royal guards.
Thea skidded to a halt and crouched at their sides. ‘You need to get out of here, Your Majesties. There must be a place to hide? Somewhere secure —’
Queen Reyna’s mouth opened in a silent scream and the hair on Thea’s nape stood up.
‘Run,’ she begged the royals, reaching for Jasira and squeezing her hand before she turned to their remaining guard. ‘Get them out of here. Do your duty!’
But the icy wind that swept through the broken ballroom told her there was no time left. With a final pleading look, she stood, turning on her heel to face whatever shade of darkness had come with the eclipse.
Thea barely registered the scream that sounded behind her, but she felt it vibrate in her chest as her gaze met the mass of shadow before her, darkness unfurling around it, temporarily obscuring it from view.
But it was no wraith, no reaper… Because it scuttled through the open doors from the balcony, shattering much of the glass wall with it, the cracks splintering into a thousand fractures. It loomed there in the entry, its foreign form shifting and undulating, a sinister silhouette.
‘The fuck…?’ Thea heard Vernich’s gravelly tone nearby, and for once she was glad to be fighting on the side of the Bloodletter, hoping he would live up to his name.
With a spine-chilling clicking noise, the ribbons of onyx mist dissipated around the monster, and a gasp of horror escaped Thea.
It was like nothing she’d ever seen before.
Easily twice the size of a Tverrian stallion, with the mangled upper torso, arms and head of a human, it had purplish skin and eight yellow eyes.
Fangs gnashed in its mouth, and claws protruded from once-human hands.
At its lower half was a massive spiderlike abdomen, and eight giant legs covered in fine hair.
‘It’s an arachne,’ Wilder called, circling, still holding his broken chair legs like they might somehow stand against such a monster. ‘Watch out for its web.’
‘And its pincers!’ Torj added, twirling his iron pokers. ‘They’re dripping with venom. One drop in an open wound and —’
A web shot out of nowhere, missing Torj by a hair’s breadth.
‘And?’ Thea pressed, her grip tightening on her dagger. It was the only Naarvian steel they had. One dagger against the might of whatever evil this was.
‘And there’s a fifty-fifty chance it’ll kill you. It’s slow to activate, so you won’t know right away,’ the Bear Slayer told them. ‘But basically, avoid it at all costs. It’ll fuck you up either way.’
‘Furies save us…’ Cal looked pale. ‘Is it cursed?’
The clicking sound intensified and the creature scanned them all with its eight eyes, seeming to consider which of them to kill first.
‘Yes. An arachne doesn’t usually wield shadow as well as webs,’ Torj replied, not taking his eyes off the monster.
‘Wonderful,’ Cal muttered.
Heart in her throat, with only her dagger in her hand, Thea reached for her magic on instinct, rallying the power of the storm within and without, waiting for that first flicker of lightning to spark at her fingertips, ready to unleash the chaos she craved.
I am the storm , she told herself, digging deep.
A shot of web came flying at her. Thea leapt from its path, rolling across the floor and flipping to her feet with a hiss of frustration.
Her magic was gone. She’d have to deal with this beast the old-fashioned way.
‘Warswords!’ she shouted. ‘Three-point formation!’
Thea didn’t look to see if they followed her command. She simply threw herself into action, springing off the stage, ducking the first swipe of shadow and dodging the next, running in a zigzag towards the creature’s body amid the darkness swirling around it.
Gods, she hoped Kipp would hurry up with the swords.
She could hear the shouts of the others, could hear their cries as they rushed the monster in their own attacks, but she focused on her own path.
If she could just get the dagger close, she could do some damage.
All her dealings with shadow monsters had taught her that nothing was impervious to Naarvian steel —
She skidded to a stop, her blood running cold as several eyes latched onto her, burning with a bright, otherworldly malevolence.
And the creature scuttled up the fucking wall .
Shuddering in disgust, Thea flung several throwing stars. The tiny spiked discs became but blurs of silver as they spun through the air.
The thing screeched, the sound utterly blood-curdling, as two of the stars found their marks in its eyes and it slipped from the wall.
Wilder lunged forward, and with an almighty strike, stabbed the monster through the leg with one of his chair leg spikes, pinning it to the floor.
‘Thea, now!’ he shouted.
Thea threw herself into action, using the immobilised leg to wrangle her way towards its body, ducking swipes from its other legs, barely dodging a shot of sticky web that came from somewhere she couldn’t even see.
‘A little help!’ she ground out, before putting her dagger between her teeth and continuing her scramble through the rough surface of its legs, grimacing at the spiked hair that met her hands.
An iron poker soared through the air, spearing another of the arachne’s legs to the far wall.
The monster’s body jerked and Thea held on for dear life, slowly closing the distance between her and the human-like part of the arachne.
Its six remaining eyes latched onto her and Thea jumped, landing on the lower part of its body, palming her dagger. She had killed reapers and wraiths without magic; she could kill this monstrosity too. Surely in that purplish chest cavity there was a beating heart she could carve out —
A shout of pain – Wilder’s – caused her to falter, and suddenly, she was falling.
Thea hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind out of her and rattling her teeth.
Someone grabbed her by the arm and hauled her back, just as a wet mass of web slapped against the marble floor where she’d been a second before.
Panting, she looked around madly, seeing it was Kipp at her side.
‘Swords?’ she gasped, wincing at the pain throbbing through her body.
Kipp pressed the scabbards into her hand, but just as Thea went to unsheathe Wilder’s blades, a roar shattered the icicle chandeliers.
The arachne ripped its legs free in a shower of black blood. Darkness flooded the ballroom in a physical assault, sending everyone flying.
Thea’s back hit an upturned table, something sharp sticking into her side. But she was on her feet in an instant, swords in hand, the taste of ash in her mouth.
Slowly, the shadows receded.
A silent cry formed on Thea’s lips.
For amid the carnage of the ballroom was not only the arachne, free from all restraints and churning with dark power, but Anya, the Daughter of Darkness, her wings flaring behind her, a bloodied scythe in her hand as she stalked towards the rulers of the midrealms.
They were all there now. Even King Artos, who was shoving Princess Jasira behind him, using his body as a shield to protect her.
Why didn’t they flee when I told them to?
Thea gaped as King Leiko of Tver scrambled back, and Queen Reyna and King Elkan clutched one another close. To Thea’s horror, the leg of King Elkan’s pants was ripped and bloodied, a layer of something translucent coating his skin.
‘Thea!’ Princess Jasira’s desperate plea rang out above all else.
Thea surged towards her, blades raised.
Time both slowed and sped up, and Thea saw several things happen at once.
Lashes of darkness whipped through the air. Anya brandished her weapon, the steel gleaming in the remaining watery light. And the arachne shattered an entire glass wall, sending thousands of shards splintering into the night.
Within seconds, Thea was all that stood between the Daughter of Darkness and the royal families of the midrealms, her gaze trained on the woman who shared her celadon eyes, one marred by a brutal scar.
The air around them crackled, not with Thea’s magic, but with Anya’s.
Thea could taste it on her tongue, familiar and heady.
Shadows poured around them, and Anya took a step forward. ‘Move,’ she growled.
Thea’s grip tightened on her swords. ‘Never.’
Anya’s gaze narrowed before it fell to the fate stone that had escaped Thea’s gown. The Daughter of Darkness blanched before she whirled her weapon menacingly. ‘I won’t ask again.’
‘Thea…’ Wilder’s voice sounded distant, but she didn’t look at him, not yet.
Instead, she took a deep breath, gathering all her remaining strength, and charged at her sister —
A rush of darkness crept over the balustrade and swept in like a tidal wave, tearing Thea from the ground, whipping the air around her. A warm hand closed over hers.
And then she was falling.