“She did not appear harmed,” Aleissande breathed, her thumb pressing lightly against Josie’s hammering pulse, as if she could steady it with her touch. “You’ve done all you can to ensure everyone’s safety, Princess.”
Aleissande released her as she glanced around the column before stepping to Josie’s side. “If you don’t think you’re ready to—”
“I’m more than ready,” Josie cut her off, her fingers tightening on the pommel of her sword.
Aleissande peered at her for a moment longer before jutting her chin toward the hall. They resumed their path through the palace, the shouting finally discernible the closer they got to the throne room. Josie could just make out the clanging of swords as she crept toward the main hall.
It was a gamble to assume that Avis would be barricaded in the throne room. But Josie had spent years placing bets beside Aidon and their friends. She liked her odds.
Sure enough, there was a small cluster of Bellare rebels standing guard at the door. Josie smirked at the notable absence of any of the Royal Guard. She would be sure to reward their loyalty.
Josie rolled her neck, anticipation buzzing in her veins.
She was ready.
She stepped into the hall and cleared her throat. It was comical how the rebels’ eyes widened as they took in her and Aleissande.
“The—” Aleissande’s knife found its mark, cutting off what Josie imagined was a call for aid. The blade lodged in the man’s throat, his words dying on a choked garble as blood spewed from his mouth.
Josie didn’t wait for his friends to react. She charged forward, her sword finding its first kill between the span ofher inhale and exhale. Aleissande flung out both of her hands, and Josie knew by the way the two rebels before her gripped their throats that she was using her Sensainos affinity to mimic the sensation of strangulation.
Josie’s sword found one’s chest, while Aleissande’s found the other’s.
The last remaining rebel hooked an arm around Josie’s neck, and she let her sword clatter to the floor, grabbing her knife instead. The man screamed as she jammed it into his eye, his grip on her loosening enough for her to pivot and snap his neck.
For a moment, Aleissande simply stood there, her lips parted as she blinked at Josie.
“What?”
“Youwereholding back in our training the other day,” Aleissande accused. Josie rolled her eyes, her nose wrinkling as she fetched her knife from the man’s head.
The battle sounded closer here, and Josie couldn’t tell if it was because it had breached the gates, or if she was simply hearing the echoes of it in the halls. Either way, they did not have much time to spare.
She threw her shoulder against the heavy driftwood door, grunting as it remained locked.
“Move,” Aleissande ordered curtly. Josie stepped aside just as Aleissande planted her boot firmly in the center of the doors. The wood splintered, sending them flying open with the force of her kick.
There, sitting on the golden throne, was Avis Lavigne.
His face flushed red as he registered who, exactly, had come for him, his eyes blowing wide.
“You fucking coward,” Josie spat as she stalked into the room. A guard lunged for her, but she bested him easily, her sword an extension of her arm, of herrage.
She took down another, and another, her steps never faltering, until she was right in front of Avis. She grabbed the front of his tunic and tugged him off the throne.
“You have no right to that chair,” she snarled.
“Neither does your brother,” Avis seethed.
Josie paused, so that Avis could hear the battle raging at the palace gates. Beyond it, she could just make out the noise of the protestors ringing out from Old Town.
“The people of Trahir seem to think otherwise,” Josie breathed. She held his gaze for a long moment, and then she took her blade and thrust it into his gut.
“I hope you rot in the seven hells,” she whispered as the light died in his eyes. Josie released him, his body crumpling the floor with a thud as she turned to find Aleissande holding another Bellare member at knifepoint.
Josie grinned.
“Hello, Ryker Drycari.”
