Elysia startled at Rollie’s voice beside her. “Travelers. Not easy to take more than yourself. Well, not without real magic, anyway.”
She nodded numbly, her eyes going to his in pleading. “Rollie, I swear I didn’t.”
He nodded, giving her a look that made her feel as pathetic and naive as a child. “I know. But I think we all know who is about to bust through that door.”
Elysia opened her mouth to argue he was wrong—Topp was likely still puking with the rest of them at the castle, but the large beautiful woman named Belinda suddenly yelled for everyone to hold still. A breath later, there was a soft hooded mask disguising every face in the room.
Jessa pulled out two daggers from her belt, wielding them with practiced fingers. “Those who can fight stay to the front. If you’re waiting to travel, get to the back and keep out of the way.”
Rollie grabbed Elysia by the shoulder, starting to drag her back. “Come on. You heard her.”
Elysia shook off his grip, slipping closer to the front. She gave him a worn smile. “I can fight. You can barely walk without rolling an ankle. Get out of here, okay?”
There was a loud shout and then a roaring. It was the sound of the endless sea, battering and mad. Angry that it still did not gain entrance to their sanctuary.
Elysia’s hand went to her thigh and she swore under her breath. The dagger that had been strapped there was missing, likely lost to the tunnels or the sea. Tension wound her tighter as footsteps thundered down the concrete steps. In one quick motion, she ripped the tulle from her dress, leaving only a thin black slip and the corseted top, wet and molded to her body. Tossing the tulle aside, she prayed for the mask and adrenaline to cloud the incoming men’s vision. There was a fair chance the men about to enter had seen her gliding about at the party earlier, but she doubted these sorts of men could tell a tulle dress from a silk one even on their best day.
Shaking her arms loose, Elysia slid into a fighting position, waiting for the wave of death to roll in, wiping away the singular safe haven the cursed had found within Relaclave. The clatter of pounding steps stopped, everything suddenly far too quiet. In the silence, all she could hear was the hard swallows of the man next to her, the nervous breath of someone across the room.
Stilling herself, she found a peace that did not make sense. Physically, she was under the sea, the king’s men outside the door, ready to cut their lives short. But mentally she was on rooftops and damp forest floors and the sandy sparring ring all of Gage’s men trained in. Years of his relentless corrections and guidance acted like a spark, sharpening her mind and readying her muscles. She was not a warrior, nor was she helpless.
There was the soft tink of metal against metal—the simple lock being picked, and then the strange round door swung open and the king’s men surged in, a small wave of salt water coming in alongside them. Water sloshing, six of the Crown’s men strode in, confident, wielding both weapons and wicked grins. The hunt had found their quarry. And what a hunt it had been to bring them beneath the sea.
Elysia clocked their faces, not guards then, but the men who lurked near Garrison, always ready to slip off and do his bidding.No questions asked, these men were happy for the excuse to break skin and bone.
And in the rear, with a face so cold her own breath stuttered at the sight, was the Crown Prince himself. Gone was the impish boy who had grown by her side. In his stead was a creature quiet and still as the forest yet angry as a storm. A man with cruel eyes and a predatory gait—her heart should have broken. But it didn’t. There was only a second of sweeping grief, weighted and familiar. The kind that straightened her spine, refusing the emotions beneath. Because somewhere inside she had known—love was not to be trusted and people only let you down. Especially the ones who were supposed to love you most.
Her former lover, now a stranger, stood at the door, his hair and cloak dripping. Any warmth to his rumbling voice had been leached dry. “Remember your orders, captured, not killed.”
And then he simply surveyed the room, staying out of the fray as if he were above the cursed blood that would drench these floors regardless of his orders. The men at his side were wild wolves, not trained dogs, and they would not deny themselves the hunt.
Anger warmed her muscles and loosened her limbs. His betrayal was a layered thing that she didn’t have time to examine right now. All she could do was let it fuel her, let it be the kerosene that turned her to flame. He had ruinedeverything. She was a breath away from stepping into another life, one with people like her who could help—people who had a vision that didn’t include heads rolling in the main square.
She had been soclose.
A man launched himself at her, drugged cloth in one hand, the other wrapped in a fist and flying for her face. A sharp crack echoed inside her skull, blood gushing. Elysia danced back, wiping the back of her hand against the torrent of bright red staining her skin and teeth.
Eyes flicking around the room, she understood the score. A little brutalizing followed by a quick drugging. That was their method. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jessa pick up a chair and slam it down over the head of a short, thick man with a head like a melon. His melon didn’t crack, but he did crumple like a paper doll. Jessa threw down a lantern, lighting the man on fire for good measure.
Elysia blinked. That woman was on a whole different level.
Her pursuer attacked once more, but this time instead of darting back, she ducked under his incoming fist, gripped his neck and slammed her knee between his legs. Face purple, the man dropped, his hands cupping what was likely a disappointment, anyway. She was a practical woman who believed in doing what worked—and a sharp knee to the balls was effective one hundred percent of the time in her experience. On his knees and still clutching his jewels, her fist collided with his face, returning his favor and splintering delicate cartilage. Taking a cue from the demon by the door who had caused this all, she dropped to the floor and cracked the man’s head against the concrete until his eyes rolled back and lids closed.
A strange sense of power ran through her, bright and invigorating. Inhaling, she stood, swiveling and scanning the room. The travelers had cleared the back of the room. All those who remained were either drugged and unconscious on the floor or still fighting. The young man with bright blue eyes who had stopped Jessa, shoved his arms forward, face furrowed in concentration, but nothing happened. Erratic and unreliable, his magic did not respond. Elysia’s heart dropped, knowing it was too late. He was on the ground, writhing with a cloth over his face in moments.
Eyeing the exit, her mind flew even as her feet moved. The travelers would not be coming back. They’d done their job—it was each man for themselves now. Which meant it wasthatdoor or death. Determination turned her body fluid, her focus narrowing to the single goal of escape. Masked and anonymous, she could make it out of this yet. There was only one body blocking the door, and she wasn’t afraid of a backstabbing, spineless prince.
An enraged scream tore out, shredding her concentration and ripping her eyes to her left. Two men had Jessa pinned. The woman hadn’t conceded to this fact and was screeching and fighting like a mountain cat. Nails, teeth, and limbs blurred, but they were boulders to her pebble. Whatever her magic was, it was either defunct or not useful.
Jessa flailed, spitting in their faces and biting at their drug-filled hands. Once again, Elysia realized it was only the prince who stood in her way. The prince who stood in the doorway, looking bored and distracted, like this was a picnic he hadn’t wished to attend instead of a campaign of genocide.
I should run, I could make it.She knew better than to go back for the dying. But there were still rebels in the room, exhausted and deflated by the sight of Jessa being taken down. And deep down, she knew this was somehow her fault.
She hadn’t even taken a step when Jessa’s body went limp, her head lolling to the side and body sagging. Something in Elysia’s stunted heart felt furious at the sight—the woman was a bitch that she’d only just met, but to see her out cold with a foot in the grave felt unnatural and wrong.
Her mind shifted gears, making a fast and reckless decision.
She barreled straight for the prince, gaining speed with each step. Blankly staring at his men hovering over Jessa, his head turned a second too late. Her body was already airborne, mouth torn open wide, crying out for everyone to run. Every last scrap of her rage broke free as she pummeled into the hard body of the man she had so deeply wanted to trust.
