Chapter 33 Kailia #2
“Everyone is going to need to move, Raz,” she said, already having summoned her bow.
“Wait until we know what we’re dealing with,” he retorted.
“Raz?” Jarek asked, glancing over his shoulder.
“Shut up, and do your job,” Razik snarled.
Gods, if only she could use her magic. She’d already know what they were dealing with. She couldn’t see shit down here, not without—
“Lia!” Razik hissed sharply, but she was already moving.
Her bow slung across her chest, she crawled along the floor, between legs and dresses and shiny boots.
“I swear to Sargon, Lia,” he was snarling, and she heard the grunts of people she could only assume Razik was shoving out of the way. But there were too many of them, and she was faster, even with her bow smacking into shins.
Finally, there was a decent opening, and she popped up.
“Fucking fuck! Where did you come from?”
She turned to find Bram, Wren tucked into his side. This was actually a fairly convenient place to have ended up when she really thought about it.
“Do you know what’s going on?” she asked, unhooking her bow.
“Not ye—”
Another scream sounded. Then another and another.
And she didn’t need to wonder anymore. Not as phantom after phantom drifted into view.
“Blood of death,” they all hissed in unison, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end at their eerie tone.
That was when mayhem let loose.
Everyone was screaming and running and trying to escape. She had arrows nocked, but without being able to move through her ashes, she couldn’t be sure of her targets. There were too many innocent people in the way. Too many innocent people meeting gold blades as the phantoms drifted forward.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
Ripping the three arrows from the string, she shoved them at Bram.
“Wait! You can’t—” Bram started.
But she was moving again, trying her best not to brush up against people.
Razik appeared at her side, pupils shifted, smoke furling, and black flames wreathing his arms. “Kailia, you can’t—”
Ashes swirled, her smoke mixing with his, and she shoved an armful of arrows at him. “Hand these out.”
“No. We need to get you out of here,” he snarled.
More screams. People everywhere. It was becoming too much, and she couldn’t fight. She couldn’t do anything with everyone in her way. People were going to die. So many people, and she was helpless—
“Everyone get down!”
The commanding voice echoed in the hall, everyone going still.
Because that was the voice of a king.
“On the floor! Now!” Cethin bellowed, and as everyone dropped to the ground—the floor becoming a sea of luxurious fabrics, terrified people, and those who’d already crossed the Veil—she saw him.
Tall and terrifying with his dark magic clinging to him. Silver eyes glowing. A black blade in his hand and waves of his inky power spilling across the room, hovering above the people.
The phantoms were still there, but all their targets were beneath them now.
Of course, his magic didn’t do much, but a cascade of dragon fire from Razik did.
It spread atop the darkness, Cethin’s magic keeping everyone from the heat while Razik’s magic kept golden blades from claiming life while also keeping the phantoms from coming any closer.
For beings that didn’t touch the ground, they also didn’t appear to be able to get airborne.
She met Cethin’s gaze across the room, and he gave her a nod.
It was all she needed to be let loose here.
Summoning more arrows, the dying wails of the phantoms became a symphony only she could dance to. Tybalt couldn’t fully shift. Razik was keeping the people protected along with Cethin, and she was free to do what she did best.
Of course, it would have been faster and easier and far more fun if she could use all of her magic, but this would do.
More arrows appeared on her string the moment she released the first three. She focused on those closest to Cethin first, and then it was all instinct and skill as she released arrow after arrow, turning in a circle, until there was one left.
Kailia stilled, two arrows nocked and the string pulled back. The phantom’s features were twisted into rage, pupil-less eyes bright white.
“You are becoming tiresome,” it hissed, gold sword pointed directly at her. “Next time, this will end differently. We will have what we hunt.”
Then it was gone, sinking into the floor as if the ground itself had swallowed it whole.
The flames and darkness vanished, and Razik doubled over, hands braced on his knees.
“Razik!” Wren cried, scrambling up from the ground and climbing over people, Bram right behind her.
When she reached him, she took his shoulders, urging him to sit, but he shook his head. “Not here,” he muttered.
“Razik, don’t be stupid. If they come back, we’ll need you. We’ll all need you,” Wren insisted, gaze darting around. “I need a knife or a dagger or—”
Bram handed her one, but Razik pulled away. “I said not now.”
“They won’t come back,” Kailia offered, her bow still in hand at her side. “At least, that has been our experience in the past. They won’t attack again the same day.” She paused, thinking it over. “Then again, I wasn’t here the last time they attacked at the castle, so I guess—”
“That is not helpful right now, Lia,” Razik growled, straightening. Or trying to.
“You look pitiful,” she said, looking him up and down.
“Bram,” Tybalt growled, coming up beside his nephew. “Help the others escort guests out or to their rooms. Everyone gets searched before they leave or retire for the night.”
“Yes, Commander,” the male replied. He turned to go, but not before asking Wren, “You are fine?”
“Yes, yes. Go on,” she said, waving him off without even looking at him.
“Your Majesty,” Tybalt said, face solemn. “Cethin asked me to bring you to him.”
“But Razik—”
“Go with Tybalt, Lia,” Razik said, Wren still fretting and trying to get him to let her refill his powers here. “He’ll watch over you for now.”
“She’s sorted. Can we please go now?” Wren pleaded, worry written all over her face.
“Yes, go,” Tybalt ordered.
“Thank you,” Wren said, gripping Razik’s arm, and the two of them disappearing in the next breath.
“This way, your Majesty,” Tybalt said, motioning with his arm.
He stayed by her side, and while Razik had needed to keep people back, everyone seemed to naturally part for the Commander. They reached Cethin in a matter of minutes. He was speaking with Zayan, but the moment she was within reach, he turned away from his Hand.
He looked her over from head to toe before he took her hand and gently tugged her forward.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, voice low.
“Why would I be hurt?” she asked, watching the guests being led from the room.
Tear-stained faces and haunted gazes. Seeing those that wouldn’t get up and watching various members of the forces attempt to discreetly remove the bodies or cover them.
There was no doing that unobtrusively with hundreds of people in the room.
“Now that I’ve retrieved her, will the king and queen please go to their quarters until we can secure the castle?” Tybalt asked, sounding more than a little annoyed.
“I think if the creatures wanted to enter our quarters, there wouldn’t be any stopping them,” Kailia replied, noticing the quick glances at her as people passed.
“That is not the point,” Tybalt replied tightly with a pointed look at Cethin.
“It’s for appearances’ sake,” Cethin said, leaning in to speak into her ear. “People want to know their king and queen are protected.”
“Wouldn’t they rather know we care by seeing us down here? You know, doing the caring?” she asked.
“By the Fates, there’s two of you now,” Tybalt muttered. “Just until we can secure the area and see if we can find any information about how any of this happened.”
“Just for a bit, tiny fiend,” Cethin coaxed, her hand still in his.
She nodded, but she didn’t want to go to their quarters. She was restless, and the moment they were in their rooms, she made her way to the balcony, hoping the fresh air would help.
It didn’t.
She was overstimulated from all the touching. The fight had adrenaline coursing through her. Beneath it all was an exhaustion from the evening. From being on display. And the people. And all the touching.
Her dress suddenly felt too constrictive, and she was clawing at the corset, the layers of lace and silk suddenly too much against her skin.
“Kailia, stop,” Cethin said, his tone soft but the command firm. When she turned to him, he added, “Come with me.”
She followed, her magic as restless as she was because she couldn’t fucking use it. She could access a fraction of her well of power because it was broken. She was broken, and why did she think she could do any of this?
“I need you to breathe, wife,” Cethin said softly, and she had no idea when they’d entered the bedchamber. She looked back at the doorway, seeing her own ashy footprints.
Fingers brushed along her arm, and she lurched back. Too much. Somehow—being away from everyone and everything—somehow that had made the little things overwhelming. A single touch. The sound of the crackling hearth. The brush of silk.
“I’ll untie your dress. That is all,” Cethin said, each word smooth and steady. “Okay?”
She nodded, turning so he could work the ties and clasps of the corset. When he was done, she moved to the dressing closet. Everything was too fitted or silky or scratchy.
Running her fingers along the rows of garments, she stopped when she came to something exceedingly soft. Shoving aside hangers, she studied the garment, rubbing her fingers along the fabric. She’d never felt something so soft. It was like butter in her fingers.
Pulling it from the hanger, she didn’t care that it was Cethin’s. She slipped it over her head, the hem falling to her knees. It was roomy, didn’t cling to her, and she could still get to her knife with ease.
She frowned, lifting a hand. A swirl of ashes left a dagger in her palm, and she switched out the knife for the blade. Much better.