Chapter 87
Faylinn
Iflew through the Academy, uncaring of the noises I was making as I ran—they were barely discernible over the cacophony of battle and the loud calls of group leaders as they instructed and armed their task forces.
I bypassed the armory, dozens of my personal blades already strapped to my thighs, tucked into my boots, and nestled within my belt.
Unlike the knives and sharp objects attached to the other soldiers, mine were not for fighting.
Mine were for reinstating the wards within the Academy and, eventually, surrounding Vespera.
The protection awarded by the barrier surrounding the city would not hold indefinitely—judging by the crackling noise that echoed with each blast of magic, it would collapse soon.
Honestly, reinforcing those wards should be my priority, but once I exited the Academy, there was no guarantee I would make it back inside.
And I promised Torin I’d meet him on the other side of the tunnel.
My gut churned at the thought that I had a hand in creating this mess; that hundreds would die tonight because of information I gave to the rebellion, because he claimed to know my mother. But I knew, deep in my soul, that this was right.
Alois d’Refan was no longer fit to rule, and Ellowyn needed to be removed from his clutches.
The obvious and safest place for her was with the only other godling.
It also helped that my mother, the Bondsmith, was hiding in Lishahl with Torin’s remaining forces.
The rebels’ attack on the Academy was simply a diversion—they were instructed not to engage or kill our Mages, but battle did funny things to normal, rational people.
It was almost inevitable that they would engage with our task forces, especially since our soldiers had no way of knowing that the rebels weren’t here to kill them, weren’t trying to overthrow Alois—yet.
I just had to pray that Torin located Ellowyn quickly.
I took the stairs down, skipping every other step and nearly tripping on my boots in the process.
“Shit, fuck,” I muttered when I had to catch myself on the wall as the Academy shook with a particularly forceful blow.
Come on, Torin. Rein in your people!
The Academy didn’t need to be destroyed, he just needed the majority of the army out and away from the building.
Distracted enough that he could slip inside and find Ellowyn.
Though that plan would have to be altered, now that she was leading a task force against the rebels and gods’ armies outside.
What was Rohak thinking, letting her go like that?
The toe of my boot caught on the third-to-last step on the staircase, and I launched myself into the air, jumping to the landing to avoid a fall. One that could have been catastrophic with all the exposed blades on my body.
“Torin!” I shouted, not bothering with subtlety.
We were running out of time, and this part of the Academy was already swept.
He emerged from one of the darkened alcoves near the barrier, and I breathed a quick sigh of relief.
He was outfitted in the same Mage blacks as the rest of the Academy, his hair darkened by soot in an attempt to disguise himself.
That would work until he channeled his magic.
“Faylinn.” He nodded his head curtly in my direction. “Where is she?”
I heaved a breath, desperately trying to get my heart rate under control again.
Sitting around and reading all day has put me out of shape.
“She’s outside,” I huffed, pushing curly tendrils off my sweaty, sticky face. Torin’s expression morphed from stoic curiosity to thunderous anger.
“She was supposed to stay inside! In the manor! That’s . . . that’s the whole point of meeting you down here!” he roared, his hands fisting his hair in obvious distress.
“I know, I know. But she just appeared out of nowhere in the mess hall and led a team out before I could stop her.”
Torin began to pace, muttering something under his breath, hands still caught in his hair.
“Fine. Then we go outside.” He nodded to himself before releasing his hair and striding toward the stairs.
“Which way did she go?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted, and Torin swore loudly.
“Who is she with? The three she’s been training with?” I nodded my head and he cursed again. “They won’t let her out of their sights. They’re all slightly . . . unhinged.”
The walls of the Academy rocked, debris and dust raining down with the movement. Neither Torin nor I bothered to wipe it from our hair and clothes—they’d only be splattered with more dubious things later.
“You have to get to her, Torin,” I urged. “I’m nervous about what the appearance of the gods at our doorstep means.”
Torin paused his pacing, his body wound tight with tension, and closed his eyes briefly. “They can’t have her,” he said with a bone-chilling finality. “Not just because a godling in their hands would spell the end of Elyria, but because she’s mine. And I am hers.”
My eyebrows raised a hair at the possessiveness in his tone as he bounded up the stairs in search of Ellowyn.
I stayed at the entrance to the passageway, caught between the need to reinforce the wards and the untimely desire to have Rohak claim me the same way Torin claimed Ellowyn.