Chapter 38 Keldarion
Keldarion
There are so many hands on me, so many blades biting at the gaps in my armor. I can barely see through the blood streaming down my face.
Where is my uncle?
Where is Rosalina?
The Sword of the Protector flashes. Desperation rages through me, and with each strike, I fell an enemy. But more and more keep coming.
I kick the one nearest me, then run back toward the guard tower. Rosalina falls limp through the air. She smashes hard against the stone and doesn’t get up.
“Rose!”
The underfae are upon her, weapons raised. I scream her name, blindly fighting, kicking, slashing. My Rose! My Rose!
They part in unison, forming a path for a single underfae to come forth. With that same infuriatingly calm demeanor as before, Faustrius walks toward her. He doesn’t even have his blade drawn.
But why should he?
Rosalina has saved what soldiers survived. There’s only us left.
My heart thunders in my chest. I cut my way through the crowd, blowing back as many as I can with powerful gusts of wind. I’m not going to make it to her before Faustrius—
Help me, I cry out in my mind to the mates of my mate. Help her.
At the same moment, a bellow echoes out from below: “Ready!”
I spare a look down over the side. In one tunnel, the underfae have positioned a huge trebuchet. It springs forward, arcing a massive boulder up out of the chasm, skyward—
“No!” I scream.
The boulder connects with the sails of the airship.
The vessel lurches, tilting at an unnatural angle.
Debris spills off the ship, and my throat closes as bodies tumble off too.
Flames burst from the engine as Flutterwing veers downward on the east side of Voidseal.
The tortured screech of metal and wood fills the air.
A boom shakes the bridge as the ship crashes into the stone, its massive frame skidding on the icy surface. Underfae scatter, but there’s nowhere for them to go. They’re swept up in the wreck. The airship grinds to a halt with a groan, a skeleton of rubble.
“Cas! Ez!” I scream.
Through it all, I see Faustrius still walking, unhurried, toward Rosalina.
There’s no choice then.
I must get to Rosalina before him.
I freeze the ground to a glassy sheet of ice, gliding across it. Then, with a furious roar, I jump on a burst of wind, slamming down beside Rosalina.
Baring my teeth, I circle her, sword pointed outward. For still being in a man’s body, I’ve never felt more like an animal. Come for her, my eyes challenge. Come for her and die on the edge of my sword.
I stop my circle and stab my blade toward Faustrius, halting his approach. “Get away from her.”
Faustrius steeples his fingers. “So much death. It brings me great sadness to see so many lives lost.”
“You did this.”
“For my people,” he says. “The Elderblood shall never know peace. But I can grant them justice.”
“This isn’t justice. This is slaughter,” I say.
Faustrius gives me a sad smile, as if I am but an insolent child. “What would the High Ruler of Winter know of justice? To your ancestor, our mere existence was a crime. Now, Keldarion, your soldiers are dead or fled into the skies. Put down your sword.”
Only one choice remains. It was what the Sword of the Protector was meant to do. Defend the Vale. Defend the queen. “Never.”
I strike.
With a quick, unbothered movement, Faustrius draws his blade. He swings the giant black sword up to meet mine.
Our swords clash. There’s the sound of breaking glass, a delicate rain of metal as it hits ice, and a bright light blinding my vision.
I blink, and I’m only holding a hilt. The shards of the Sword of the Protector litter the ground before me.