“What is it?” She keeps her voice low, and I have to push myself against the iron bars so I can hear her over the thunder. The iron burns against my skin, but I press myself tighter to ensure she can hear me.
“We need you to open the gate,” I say. “We need to get inside before the guards come. Quickly!” Her body stiffens as the sounds of the guards move closer. I glance to Sera, her eyes locked on the castle, likely determining how many guards are where.
“Please,” Tallulah begs the woman. Evren’s at her side, his sword already drawn.
The woman is silent for a moment, her thin fingers running through the soft gray curls of her hair. Her eyes drift past me, and I follow her gaze until I see what has her so focused.
She’s staring at Sorin.
“Mother above,” she gasps, cupping her hands over her mouth. “The rumors are true? The king lives?”
How similar do he and Silas look?
“No.” Elora joins us at the gate, the wolves following in her wake. My stomach swirls at the sound of her voice, it’s hers but somehow it isn’t. There’s a coldness lining it, something distant. Ancient. Her fingers brush mine as she grips the bars, and my chest collapses when her skin is warm, not cold.
She’s alive, Samaria. Just relax.
“Silas has passed, but this,” she says, turning to Sorin, “is Sorin Rudhek, first born son of Silas Rudhek, the rightful heir of Valebridge and Teravie.”
The woman on the other side of the gate mutters something like a prayer. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “KingBastian. King Bastian and you—” She closes her eyes and brings her hands to her chest.
The hairs on my body stand on end, and when I look at Elora and Sorin, their faces have blanched. The woman mutters something again and just when I’m about to have Jarek break the damn gate down himself, the woman disappears.
“Shite,” I mutter. “Elora, should we try the tunnels? Do you remember where they are?” A larger part of me is dying to ask her to use her magick, or the magick in the amulet for that matter but she’s been through so much, I don’t want to push her.
She frowns and opens her mouth, but before she can speak, grinding metal drowns out the chants behind me as the gate opens.
“Thank the Mother,” I say through a sigh. “Jarek, Evren, Tallulah, and I will stay here and get ready for a fight.” The three of them turn to me, their eyes as wide as I’m sure my own are. “ Sorin—” I grab his arm and pull him forward. “Go find Roman.”
“I’ll go too,” Sera says, wiping the black strands of her hair from her face.
Sorin nods and turns to Elora. He bends down to her ear and whatever he whispers makes her smile. She slides the necklace around him.
“Be safe.” Sorin squeezes her shoulders before kissing her. When he turns to me, our eyes meet but there isn’t any time for chatter before he’s sprinting through the gate, following Sera into the castle. Every step he takes away from me, panic claws at my skin.
I have already seen him die once, I can’t bear it again.
My chest heaves, mind racing with an endless amount of possibilities of what could go wrong. I’m about to sprint after Sorin myself when Jarek takes a timid step toward Elora. He grips her shoulders, the wolves tucked closely to their sides. My attention on them doesn’t last long before the woman from before reappears, her face slick with rain or perhaps tears.
“Thank you for opening the gate.” I step forward and join her side. “You and your friends should probably go, it may get a bit ugly down here.”
The guards are in view now, their militant stance and glinting swords bright even in the gray afternoon light. I place my hand on her shoulder and she jumps, as if she hadn’t realized I was there. Hadn’t heard a word I said.
Out of the corner of my eye, my breath falters for a moment when Sera and Sorin head straight toward the guards but then in an instant, the two of them vanish. As if carried away in the wind. My mouth drops open, eyes scanning the area for any sight of them. I don’t have time to contemplate when Jarek steps forward, his axes drawn. The guards shout, their voices mixing together.
“Queen Soleil,” the old woman whispers, drawing my attention for a moment. I slide my hand from her shoulder to ready my bow.
“I’m not sure what you mean?”
The woman’s face splits into a grin, emphasizing the deep lines in her face. She points, and I follow her finger to Elora who’s still behind me. “She lives.”
Confusion contorts my face as I nock my first arrow. A chill washes over me and soon Elwyn and Celia’s spirits are at my side.
“Please.” I push the woman forward as gently as I can. My fingers tremble against my bow, what used to be an extension of myself now feels so foreign. “You and the others must go.” The woman smiles again before hobbling out of sight.
Most of the civilians have left, leaving an open space between us and the guards. Arrows soon litter the air.
I spin, moving and ducking under a guard before he can strike, trying to find a better vantage point. Something cold brushes against my cheek and when I turn, it’s Elwyn.
