23. Intruders
Intruders
“What do you mean they’re in the city?” Levora demanded, her voice cutting through the room with icy precision.
The soldier snapped to attention, his posture rigid as the sweat glistened on his brow.
“Three individuals were stopped at the main gate checkpoint, Your Majesty. They were flagged as suspicious and denied entry. Shortly after, the guards stationed at the gate were found dead near their posts. We believe the infiltrators have bypassed the main gate and entered the city.”
“They’re walking the streets among us as we speak,” Levora concluded low, tension simmering just beneath the surface.
Velo was the ruler, but Levora—Levora was the warlord. To an attendant, she instructed, “Bring me my sword.” Her sharp eyes swept across the room, calculating. “If they know what they’re doing, their path is already clear—they’ll be heading straight here.”
Flora felt weak. Again, it was as if her vision was beginning to tunnel, as if she were being pulled deeper and deeper into the depths of dark water.
The room fell into a stunned silence. Flora felt her stomach twist as she glanced toward Noec, whose expression had already hardened into a coldness she knew too well.
His hand hovered near the edge of the table, flexing in and out slowly.
“Double the guards at every entrance,” King Velo commanded, his voice steady but laced with urgency. “Aonia, coordinate with the city patrols. No one moves through the streets without scrutiny. Find them before they reach this castle.”
“Yes, Father,” Aonia said, rising swiftly. Her earlier playfulness had vanished, replaced with the same icy efficiency of her mother. She gestured sharply to two soldiers near the doorway. “Come with me.”
“I’ll go too, if you agree I can be of use,” Heron volunteered, standing up. “I’m not letting them get one step closer.”
Velo nodded, but Levora turned her piercing gaze to Noec. “And how might we make use of you and your... abilities?”
Noec stood slowly, his emerald eyes blazing. “For now, Your Majesty, I’m worth more as a shield than a sword.” Noec’s tone hardened, his charming, buttery voice as deadly as a threat. “But when they make their move, you’ll want me where the fight is.”
The queen’s lips tightened into a thin line. “Very well. Stay close. When they strike, I expect you to ensure they regret it.”
Flora felt a wave of unease as she watched Noec square his shoulders. She technically knew of his abilities, and had seen the coldness wash over his eyes when forced to fight. Nonetheless, the thought of him throwing himself into this danger in her name once again tightened her jaw.
He was, after all, just Noec.
Despite whatever monster was living in his shadow, he was still the same Noec that a scythe had nearly bled dry.
Flora cleared her throat. “And… what of me?” she asked.
Heron offered a single quiet glance back at the king as he and Aonia slipped through the grand doorway. Velo sighed, understanding whatever had been unspoken, as he turned and studied Flora. Carefully, he replied, “You will remain within the castle walls. You would be a liability anywhere else.”
“He’s right,” Noec said softly. “You have to remain hidden in order to remain safe.” Noec’s sober gaze rose to Flora’s. “But if they come,” he muttered, “I’ll be there to protect you.”
Flora peered nervously into the throne room, where the king and queen strategized with aides in hushed tones. Now, Levora’s hands folded over the hilt of an emerald-bodied sword like a cane. Team after team of soldiers returned, bearing no new information on the whereabouts of the intruders.
Quietly watching as the situation unfolded was a line of civilians, patiently awaiting their turn to have an audience with the king and queen.
They huddled on the near side of the throne room, whispering among themselves in speculation.
It was no wonder why they were there, as Flora could see plainly that they were mostly ill, many gaunt and struggling to catch their breath.
Like the young woman the day before, they had heard of Aria’s miracle medicine—the Darkvein Elixir.
Flora slowly made her way to Noec, curiously listening for new insights among scattered conversations as she looked out at the crowd.
There was one man in particular who slouched under a tattered brown hood, something vaguely familiar about the casual arch of his shoulders as he brushed past the others.
“Sorry, Flora.” Noec stepped in front of her view, saying, “Sounds like they don’t know anything yet. We should go somewhere quieter. Too many people here.” He gently placed his hands on her wrists, but she ignored him, shifting to continue watching the scene behind him.
All that Flora could see of the man were his dark freckled cheeks, shadowed beneath the lining of the hood.
Eyes growing wide, Flora muttered, “Hey, Noec…?”
His voice was bright but dark, strange but familiar. “Long time no see, Florabelle,” the man said.
Noec froze, his warm grip turning cold and stiff.
The hooded man, with his lips curled up into a boyish, toothy grin, raised a hand and flicked his fingers with two crisp snaps in quick succession. Two soldiers standing guard at the grand entryway looked up from under their helmets at the sound, their eyes as cold and white as snow.
“Go!” Noec growled to Flora, his face beginning to chip away in flaming bursts of paper as he pushed her away. He spun around in a storm of ash, the shimmering blackness enveloping him until there was nothing left but golden plumage and a flurry of teeth.
The scythe who had been disguised in the hood met him in its true form, clashing in the air with the scraping of metal talons. As the two false guards transformed at the entryway to the music of horrified screams, Heron dove for Flora.
“They’re here! Everyone out!” he ordered, and the guards blockaded the king and queen. Heron’s gaze sharpened as he glanced back at the entangled scythes gnashing through fire. To Flora, he instructed, “With me.”
Rigidly, he pulled her by the arm as she watched in horror. The two snarling beasts threw each other against the decorated walls, shaking the very air she breathed with their roars. Noec was larger, and—it seemed—stronger. But the other two scythes were soon to destroy his advantage.
“He can’t—Heron, he can’t fight all three alone!
” Flora said with panic rising in her throat.
Heron ignored her, yanking her into the hall with unrelenting force.
She stumbled after him, her heart pounding as the deafening clash of metal and bone-chilling screams echoed behind them.
Desperate for a glimpse of Noec, she craned her neck to look back, but Heron tightened his grip and pulled her forward.
“He won’t fight alone,” Heron said, his voice firm as he broke his hold on her arm and unslung his bow from his back. He nocked an arrow with practiced ease, his movements sharp and decisive. “Find Aria underground,” he ordered, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. “Run.”
Behind her, the distant roar of a scythe reverberated through the castle. Heron cursed under his breath before darting back into the throne room, disappearing around the corner. Flora stood frozen, her mind spinning.
Noec was not the same timid, bug-eyed creature she had seen by the water, she told herself. Behind that timid mask, he was hiding teeth.
Run, Heron’s voice repeated in her head.
But, Flora’s legs refused to move. She pressed her back against the cold stone wall, her chest heaving.
Every instinct screamed at her to obey, to trust Heron and escape.
Yet, as the sounds of battle grew louder, the weight of guilt anchored her in place.
She couldn’t abandon them—not when they were risking everything for her and nothing more.
She did have a weapon, didn’t she?
Gathering her courage, Flora crept back toward the throne room.
She peeked around the corner, her breath catching at the sight.
The grand hall was a blur of motion: Noec and the first scythe clashed in a feral dance of claws and teeth, their savage blows carving into the ornate walls.
The other two scythes circled, their talons scraping the marble as they closed in on him.
One of them snapped its teeth and lunged at Noec’s exposed back as he craned over the first scythe.
Flora’s heart seized in terror, but Noec’s beast reacted with inhuman speed, spinning and plunging his bronzed claws into its chest. The attacking creature let out an earsplitting screech before collapsing into a heap of blackened coal.
So easy, it seemed, to destroy a creature that had once made a ragdoll out of him.
Despite his victory, the green-eyed, puma-like beast was beginning to falter. His movements were slower, his breaths labored, and there was red, not violet, dripping onto the floor beneath him. The first scythe crouched, ready to exploit his exhaustion.
Flora’s nails dug into her palm, as her other hand reached into her bag. She glanced at the line of civilians who stumbled to the far wall, their faces pale and tear-streaked as they begged to be saved.
Swallowing her fear, Flora made her decision. As she stepped into the room, her voice rang out, sharp and clear: “Perri!”
The scythe paused before its lunge, its cruel focus now on her.
Noec’s head snapped toward her, his narrow eyes widening in shock. “Flora, no!” he roared, his animal voice guttural and desperate. “Get out of here!”
“It’s me you’re looking for, isn’t it?” she demanded.
She felt the weight of the cold metal as she walked, foreign and heavy in her hands.
The scythe that had taken Perri’s form bared its jagged teeth, launching toward Noec in a flurry of blades and snarls. Before it could reach him, an arrow whistled through the air and pierced its skin, staggering it.