Chapter 40
CHAPTER 40
N eve went with Davron and the others toward the west wing of the palace.
Pandemonium was taking place, servants and Klatos citizens openly attempting to overthrow the royal guards, many of whom seemed to be rather disinterested in upholding Meliohr’s orders.
“The head of the royal guard is dead,” explained Eleksi as he strode beside her. “Meliohr is the central command now, but she’s in hiding. The guards are in disarray.”
“How did he die?” asked Neve, noticing a fleck of scarlet on the assassin’s cheekbone.
“By his own foolish decisions.”
“Ah. I see.”
Jarin spoke. “While their disarray is a boon, it also means that Meliohr might panic and deploy the soldiers.”
“Very true,” rumbled Davron. “We must secure my uncle quickly, then find her.”
He stuck close to Amelie, having registered her dirt-streaked face and disheveled hair with alarm. She brushed off his concern. Davron clearly wasn’t convinced, but Neve understood her not wishing to worry him. The man who’d hurt her was dead, and the group had more pressing matters to deal with right now.
Eleksi slowed his pace and Neve fell into step with him, behind the others.
“What happened down in the dungeons?” he asked in a low voice, his silver eyes on her.
She touched the garnet necklace around her throat, which was mostly obscured by her cloak fastening. “I found this necklace in the cell and it allowed us to escape. Then a guard attacked Amelie as she tried to comfort a child. I didn’t think twice before I reacted. I—” She paused. “I took his life away. All of it.”
He nodded, carefully absorbing her words. “How do you feel about that?”
“I feel alright.” She shook her head in rueful disbelief. “I feel like many of my doubts and worries have vanished, actually. I do have a purpose. I will use my abilities to protect people. Perhaps I am even duty-bound to do so.”
Eleksi studied her, a furrow appearing between his dark brows. She noticed that he still wasn’t wearing his spider ring. “I’m glad you found the answers you were looking for. The certainty.”
“What about you?”
“How do you mean?”
“Do you have certainty?”
“I believe I do.” He wiped the blood fleck from his cheek with the back of his hand. “And my conclusion is much the same as yours. I could do more than kill. I could have a life beyond dreariness and isolation. You helped me discover the truth of myself.”
“Likewise.” Neve smiled. “The sorceress and the Spider King. Who would’ve thought?”
He smirked. “You had my attention from the first, little witch.”
She marveled at his dual nature. His hands had wrought so much death, yet when he caressed her, his touch felt like heaven and silk. Her hands had wrought death now, too. Would he be able to notice the difference, when she touched him?
His expression sobered. “But are you not depleted from using your magic? You needed days to recover after using that ability on me.”
She held up her hand, watching the red and black energy crackle around her fingertips. “The opposite. I made his energy my own. I didn’t return it, like I did with you. I transmuted it into power.”
“Where did the necklace come from?”
“We believe it was Levissina’s. I shall return it to Jarin, once I have a chance to explain what happened. He’s preoccupied at present.”
Her gaze moved to the pirate, who was pleading with Riella as they walked. The siren’s beautiful face was flushed with passion. She was intent on helping to free the children from the dungeons.
“Let the people free their own,” said Jarin. “It is more heartening for them to do it themselves. Their numbers are more than enough.” He gestured around at the crowded halls, which echoed with shouting citizens clashing with guards. “The palace is on the verge of being overrun. If we find Meliohr, we make every child in Klatos safer—not only those in the dungeons.”
She huffed, her fists clenched. “But I wish to fight .”
He chuckled, pressing his lips to her temple as they turned a corner. “I know, beloved.”
As they neared the western wing, butterflies emerged in Neve’s chest. Not due to the idea of crossing the queen, though. Despite the danger and calamity unfolding all around, it was the idea of meeting her father that made her nervous.
“Davron is taking me to see Leonid, is he not?” she asked Eleksi quietly.
He nodded. “Do you wish to see him?”
“Yes.”
Too much had transpired for Neve to miss the opportunity to gain some kind of closure, or insight. Perhaps she could even give those things to Leonid. After all, she had little clue how much he did or didn’t know about her, but she did believe he’d cared for her mother once.
Eleksi put his arm in front of Neve, stopping her in the middle of a walkway. “Can you hear that?”
She cocked her head. “I can hear many things.”
Although the crowds had become more sparse, the growing unrest filled the cavernous interior of the palace with constant sound.
He went to the white marble railing of the walkway they’d been crossing. A grand foyer lay below and a gigantic glittering chandelier hung from the ceiling. From the opposite walkway, a familiar gray-haired woman was waving frantically at Neve. The sorceress narrowed her eyes, trying to place her.
The woman was Laurel, whom she’d met in the cellar after helping Danior free his children. She was part of the servant network loyal to the Nikolaou family.
“It’s a trap,” hissed Laurel, her voice carrying across the space between them. “She’s called for her soldiers to take you.”
Davron and the others stopped and turned around, frowning.
“What—” started Neve.
“Draw your weapons,” said Eleksi, his golden blade appearing in his hand. His sharp gaze darted around the palace interior. “Now.”
Neve unsheathed her sword, the grip cool in her black-tinged hand. The others drew their weapons, Amelie clutching her silver rose and standing close to Davron.
Before they could strategize, a loud, commanding voice rang through the halls. “The rebels seek to slay your king and queen! Apprehend them!”
A rhythmic stampede filled the corridors.
Neve backed up against her friends in the center of a four-way crossroads. Hundreds of blue and white uniformed soldiers advanced from all sides, led by the General who’d shouted the command. The troops were armed with swords and shields, scattering any remaining servants and civilians in their wake. Helms obscured their faces, making them appear anonymous and innumerable.
From the walls, Davron’s ancestors glared down at the scene imperiously, their features morphing and grimacing in the candlelight.
“My uncle’s chambers are at the end of this corridor,” said Davron over his shoulder. “If we fail to reach him, Meliohr will have him slain and lay the blame at our feet. She is trying to frame us as usurpers. We must not let her.”
Dread trickled down Neve’s spine. It was six people against a small army. These soldiers had been stationed in distant locales until being summoned by Meliohr—they weren’t necessarily informed about her treachery, and were wont to follow her orders. She was, after all, their queen. They were sworn to protect her and Leonid.
“Can we fight them all?” asked Amelie doubtfully, her knuckles white on the stem of her rose.
Jarin stood tall and ready, brandishing his cutlass. “I believe we’re about to find out.”
“Davron, Eleksi, I suggest you put something in your ears,” said Amelie. “Lest you are serenaded by Sirensong.”
Eleksi hurriedly tore off small pieces of fabric from his cloak and stuffed them into his ears. Davron did the same.
Riella sighed. “Gods, I miss Singing. At least we have the Sirenstone.”
She alone seemed unfazed by the imminent battle. The siren seemed outright pleased, flexing her taloned fingers and smirking at the soldiers.
Neve inhaled, her stomach in a hard knot. Should she cast a protective spell on herself and her friends, or use her magic to attack? The laws of nature wouldn’t allow her both at the same time.
“Charge!” the General commanded his soldiers, raising his sword in the air like a deadly beacon.
The troops attacked in lines, shields aloft and swords at the ready. Davron, Jarin, and Eleksi attempted to protectively encircle the women, but they were too outnumbered. No one would be spared a fight.
As the soldiers closed in and Amelie unsheathed her rose, the unearthly melody of Sirensong filled the air. Every man in the vicinity flinched, the effect moving through the company of soldiers like a wave. Some even buckled at the knees, instinctively dropping their swords and shields to cover their ears.
But the soldiers’ thick iron helms seemed to protect from the worst of the Sirensong. Neve suspected they’d been designed that way, since the troops were stationed far and wide around the kingdom. Military personnel were likely to encounter sirens during their operations.
The General shouted at his men, urging them forward. “Protect your king! Protect your queen!”
Metallic crunching and slashing filled the corridor as the soldiers made contact, weapons falling against shields and blades.
Eleksi struck, as quick and precise as an adder. He felled two soldiers in a swift maneuver, sending sprays of blood through the air. Davron and Jarin landed heavy blows, using their immense physical size to press the lines of soldiers back.
Neve gasped when a shock of salty water splashed the side of her face. She turned just in time to see the next man Amelie stabbed with the Sirenstone sword turn into seawater, armor and all. Riella cackled with glee as she picked up a screaming soldier and hurled him bodily at the General, who scrambled out of the way.
The sorceress sent red-hot blasts of magic spiraling from her left hand at the soldiers, wielding her silver sword with her right. Having never summoned her dark killing ability except when in direct contact with a person, she couldn’t risk attempting to use it on the soldiers as a group. It was too dangerous.
The red-hot missiles surged from her hand into the shields and chests of the soldiers, knocking them backward with blinding flashes of light. Eleksi stayed close to her, brandishing his golden dagger like an artist with a brush. He moved the blade so quickly it became a gleaming blur. The swirls of his black cloak were highlighted by airborne streaks of crimson.
But as fast as the soldiers were disabled, more followed. A new wave trampled over the groaning felled bodies to drive Neve and her friends into the very center of the corridors’ crossways. There were no rhythmic marches or organized commands now. Only the fierce sounds of battle could be heard—clashing swords, crunching bodies, and cries of pain. Above it all, the sweet and soaring Sirensong.
A soldier caught Neve’s wrist by surprise, making her drop her sword. As she went to call the weapon to her, two more soldiers rushed at her from the left. She realized they’d strategized to disable her. As a sorceress, she ought to have known she’d be targeted in such a way.
She pitched forward painfully onto the floor, the breath knocked from her lungs. Eleksi intercepted, plunging his golden dagger into the ribcage of one of the soldiers through a gap in his armor. Davron drew closer too, trying to free Neve from the crush, but the chaos of limbs and bodies only became more oppressive.
She struggled to draw breath, her lungs compressing under the weight of so many men. Would she die trampled underfoot? The urge to clear the space around her with magic was almost overwhelming. But an indiscriminate attack was out of the question with her friends so close by. She had to escape the old-fashioned way—with determination, pain, and luck.
Gritting her teeth, she began the grueling task of crawling free of the crush, dragging her body through shields and armor slippery with blood. A soldier stepped backward onto her hand, making the fine bones slide together and crunch. She cried out.
A moment later, he was gone, swept from his feet by a snarling Davron and thrown backward into the fray. Her hand was red and hot with pain, but she could move her fingers. It was unbroken.
She continued onward using her elbows to wrestle through the forest of boots around her. The Sirensong still serenaded the halls, reassuring her that Amelie was alive and fighting. Neve glanced up to find a soldier standing over her, and could do nothing but watch as he raised his sword to drive it down into her torso.
Jarin shunted the man bodily from the side, sending him flying. He then held off another advancing soldier.
“Go!” he yelled at her as he fought.
With new drive, she clawed her way to a gap between a marble statue and a gilded console, allowing her to climb to her feet shakily. She raised her hand and mentally called for her sword. The blade came whistling through the mess of soldiers, the hilt stopping neatly in her waiting palm.
The Sirensong abruptly cut out.
Davron roared, sending a ripple through the crowd of bodies as he vented his anger by striking the soldiers around him. Had Amelie been hurt? Neve tried to glimpse her, but the fighting was too thick and relentless.
She pushed back toward her friends. If they split up, they’d be finished. Davron stood a head taller than any other man, making him impossible to lose sight of.
Her back knocked against someone and she spun around, ready to attack with magic. It was Jarin, his face freshly cut. To Neve’s despair, Eleksi and Riella were being beaten too, their bodies crushed against the sheer force of hundreds of soldiers.
Now closer, she saw that Davron held Amelie, shielding her body with his towering frame. Was she still alive?
“Halt!” called the General. He repeated his command until the soldiers stopped their advance. They panted and bled, but showed no signs of defeat or desertion of duty. “Rebels, you are beaten! Surrender now, and you will face trial. If you do not, we will have no choice but to kill you where you stand.”
An anguished Davron caught Neve’s eye, and her heart broke. After everything they had been through—separately and together—was this the only choice left to them? They could stand trial in Meliohr’s corrupt court and surely hang. Or they could die now, in the chaos of battle.
She knew Davron would never surrender under such conditions. It wasn’t in his blood. The same was true for Jarin and Riella and Eleksi. Amelie would never debase herself by accepting a sham trial. And Neve had no intention of ever returning to a cell made of Melr.
Only one option remained.
A fight, to the death.