Rune sniffed the air and walked toward Desmire.
“Did you guys have any thought on where we could enter the palace initially? After reading the story of the Fae who got away, I think the queen’s balcony would be a good place.” I walked over to our bag of weapons and strapped myself with the sharp objects. I’d already been wearing the diamond armor, which felt light as a scarf on my body, but it was not a very subtle color. When we were at the cliff, I’d put the armor underneath my tunic to help camouflage me. Dris had sneaked off with me and done the same without the gazes of the men on our naked torsos.
“I think that is a wise plan,” Dris said, buckling her sword belt onto her hip, then tucking a dagger into her boot.
“I’ll sneak in first and find out if he’s in the holding cell. If I can get him out, I will, and if I don’t come back to the balcony in five minutes, then you come in because I ran into trouble.” Emrys grabbed a bow and quiver and nestled a sword across his back and a dagger at his hips.
“Desmire can stay out of sight in the dark, and he has fire power if we need it.” While I hoped this rescue went smoothly, I knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as we wished.
“How will we communicate with each other?” Dris asked, and it was a good question. I looked at Emrys for ideas. If this was the older days, humans had devices like phones. But those didn’t work in our present.
“You both know the Iron City’s layout from the book. We’ll meet in the trophy room. Chances are they will be busy in other parts and not look there for any intruders there.”
Emrys just had to pick that room for our meeting. Both Dris and I grimaced at the mention of the trophy room. The book had described the horrors on display in there.
“Go there and hide if you can until we are together. Hopefully I’ll find Prince Torin and we’ll escape the same way I came in. If not, then you’ll see me without him there.”
It made sense. Rune sniffed the door to the tower beneath us, his claws raking against the metal with ear-cringing sounds. He grasped onto the handle and ripped it off the hinge. Two gunshots echoed in the still air of the city, and my heart experienced every bullet like it was mine getting hit instead of Rune’s.
Chapter Fifty-Two
My scream echoed far into the Iron City. Moving faster than my mind had the option to react, I grabbed my hatchet and threw it with all my strength into the chest of the Dramen.
“Rune!” I sobbed, stumbling toward the werewolf who was crouched on the ground, panting. My hands reached out, touching his chest and muzzle. “Oh God, your arm.” My hand went to the wound, which was a little bleeding hole in his arm. The bullet was probably still in there and we needed to get it out. However, the bullet began to move out of the torn flesh, like his body was rejecting the metal and pushing it out.
“Rune?” I watched in awe as the bleeding slowed, and his heavy pants turned to more calming, even breaths. I wanted to leap, cry, and fight all at the same time.
“Let’s go get those bastards!” I leaned in and pressed my forehead to his snout. I then stood to check out what weapons the Dramen had on him besides a gun.
Rune was OK. Rune was not dead. I repeated these sentences as a silent rage settled in my blood. I wanted to hurt, kill, and maim. I wanted to show no mercy like they have done to all of mankind. Murdering and taking what they wanted. Dramens were past redeeming, and they almost killed my—
No.
I focused on that killing song humming beneath my skin. My hands gripped the hatchet buried in the Dramen’s chest and pulled. Even the sound of metal scraping against flesh and bone did not deter me from the desire for revenge. Revenge for everyone.
“Emrys, do you think you can shoot this thing?” I picked up the gun and held it out. It was a pistol, but I didn’t know how it worked. Most people in this era didn’t except the Dramens, who hoarded them like a god they worshiped.
“I’ll try.” He accepted the gun and tinkered, inspecting the anatomy to figure out how it worked.
“Dangerous.” He sniffed it and shook his head while muttering to himself.
“I think we should take its clothes, too. Might give Emrys more of an edge in the castle.” Dris walked forward with a pressed mouth. She held no kindness in her expression as she looked down at the dead Dramen, then to Rune.
“I’m glad you’re OK.” She offered kindness to the werewolf and he slightly nodded in acknowledgment.
“How is it possible?” she asked me, wanting the truth that she’d seen between the general and me.
“Debaru,” I whispered, almost afraid to say it aloud. I had no doubts now on what I knew to be true. Dris saw it, felt it. As did I. She nodded, knowing it wasn’t the time or place to discuss this huge secret that had unraveled at our feet. But I swear the owl Fae’s face turned into that of a warrior. She looked confident and mighty, like she might very well use that sword at her hip and do it with honor.
We began de-robing the dead man and tossing the discarded clothes in the direction of Emrys. None of us knew if there were more Dramens around, or if some heard the gunshot and were coming, so we tried to move from our location as quickly as possible.
“These smell awful.” Emrys scrunched up his nose as he changed into his new attire.
“Good! Then they won’t know you from another one of the smelly humans in that place.” As gross as it was, I rubbed the paint and grime off the Dramen’s dead body and painted Emrys’s pretty pale face with it. I thought the tough spider was going to vomit his guts, but he held it in. He was bound by blood to me, to help, and I appreciated his willingness to be here.
“Thank you all for coming, for being here with me.” Dris, Desmire, Rune, and Emrys gave me hope in this bond. . . this little circle of friendship we had created.
“It is our honor.” Dris curtsied in a fun mocking way and Emrys, who looked exactly like a Dramen, smiled excitedly. Desmire stood, ready to carry us to the place that looked like a nightmare brought to life, and Rune . . .
