“You got them?” Rhett asks after waiting a few minutes to make sure no one can hear us.
“Yeah,” Sam replies. She retrieves the keys from her boot, straightens, and frees Thalia from her shackles, then moves to me.
When the chains are finally off, I take my first full breath in days. The rush of energy flooding me is better than a shot of adrenaline.
“If I had my magic, that bastard would be nothing more than a cockroach that I would stomp over and over again,” she clips out. She turns to me then, and regret shines in her emerald gaze. “I’m sorry I didn’t do or say anything. But I was afraid something would happen to Thalia since she was right next to me—”
“Sam, it’s okay,” I cut her off as I take the keys and unlock her restraints, then pull her into a hug.
“Holy shit. It’s like I drank ten energy drinks and a bucket of coffee.” She gags a bit before stepping back. “I don’t know who stinks worse. You or me.”
A hearty laugh leaves me because she’s right.
“As heartwarming as this is, we’re wilting here,” Malik drawls with a crooked smile.
I throw him the keys, and they get rid of their chains.
“We need to put them back when they start rotations, though,” Rhett says.
“What now?” I ask while massaging the deep stiffness from my wrists.
“Now, we make a plan.”
39
Iris
Six ropes flutter in the slight breeze from the gallows placed at the center of the town square. The commander leads the convoy while his soldiers make a path through the throng of people who regard our wheeled cage with the same apathetic gazes as yesterday. They seem as happy to be here as we are. When I look up, the light that bounces off the king’s bejeweled crown stabs me in the eye. About thirty knights guard the dais to the right of the gallows, where he’s sitting atop an ornate chair that could rival a throne.
In stark contrast to the fae people gathered in masses to watch the spectacle, the king is a stout, bearded man, his giant belly spilling over his belt. What I assume is the queen and their children are occupying the other four chairs. All of them havegold-spun hair and wear fine embroidered silks. It’s sickening how healthy and well-fed they look.
The carriage jerks to a stop. If we don’t succeed, we’re fucked.
“Ready?” Kaiden whispers.
We all nod—even Thalia.
I square my shoulders and inhale a lungful of calming air.
Dismounting with feline ease, the commander strides toward us while one of the soldiers unlocks the fortified door. I didn’t realize last night that the douchebag would be personally escorting us.
I push Kaiden out of the way to get to the door. He gives me awhat the fucklookbecause I’m deviating from the plan. I mumble under my breath, “He’s mine.”
Kaiden’s anger is palpable, but before he can say or do anything, I jump out. He follows, then Malik and Rhett, while Sam and Thalia stay behind. The commander glares at me over his hawkish nose. “Move!” he bellows as he reaches to grab my arm.
He doesn’t get far enough, though, because I snap out of the chains shackling my wrists. The rush of energy hits me like a tidal wave—somehow a hundred times stronger than yesterday. I swipe his sword from its holster in a fluid move. “Surprise, motherfucker.” I smirk as I drive the blade straight through his throat. “This is for Yana and for laying your dirty hands on my best friend.”
The planes of his face contort in equal parts shock and anger. Disbelief follows. Blood sprays all over me when I pull out the blade. He resembles a gaping fish as his mouth opens and closes before crumbling to the ground. He falls face first while his dirty soul slips away, armor clattering against the pavement.
Silence engulfs the square.
Then, the crowd erupts into chaos.
Half of the knights guarding the dais sprint toward us. WhatI’m not prepared for is the people to shove them back and start a riot, forming a protective wall between us. However, the ten soldiers who were part of the convoy dismount in a frenzy and charge. I whirl just in time to parry a sword coming at me strong enough that the force of the blow reverberates through my entire body. The “Death to the tyrant king!” chants coming from the angry mob stifle the loud metallicclang. It’s like they were sitting on a barrel full of gunpowder, and we were the spark that made it explode.
Ignoring the pulsing pain in my right hand, I tighten my grip on the hilt. I might be dehydrated, malnourished, and powerless, but adrenaline and pure rage fuel my attack. Years of training and muscle memory take over. I shift effortlessly through low and high guards in a graceful dance. Then I see it—the hesitation. It’s all I need to thrust my blade through his side where there’s a gap in the armor plates. Blood gushes out as he shrieks. I put him to sleep with a blow to his temple.
I turn just as Kaiden kicks the asshole who punched me yesterday square in the chest, sending him sprawling backward. He disarms him with ease and snatches the sword from the air. Tracing a wide arc, Kaiden decapitates him in one clean move.
