The whip wielder steps up to Emonie, and my entire body tenses as he hands her the weapon. She’s standing now, but Wick is kneeling beside her, held down by a soldier. The rest of the Vulmin are all kneeling too, soldiers in a row behind them. I recognize the same cuff I wore on my ankle is also on Wick’s, the gray band suppressing whatever magic he has.
Emonie, however, wears the stone shackles, and when she hesitates, I see her arm jerk forward, fingers fumbling before she takes hold of the whip. Her entire body is tight and stiff, but I instantly know—the Stone King is using his magic. The cuffs around her wrists are forcing her jerky movements.
Anger locks in my jaw, and the bulge of veined gold continues to gather in my hand.
Give them a mockery.
Use her.
Make it a spectacle.
Snippets of memories flutter behind my eyes, and I’ve had enough.
“Let this be a lesson to anyone who thinks they can go against the king! Watch thisLyärido his bidding and end this false rebellion once and for all!” He turns to Emonie. “Begin!” he shouts at her, and I see her arm lift despite the stricken look on her face.
“Enough!”
My voice rings out through the arena as I shove back my hood and reveal my face. Emonie spots me instantly, her wet eyes widening as she looks up. Exclamations erupt in the air as gold pours from my hands and drips down my ribbons, encasing my legs in armor and covering my feet in gilded boots.
“My name is Auren Turley, andIam the true Lyäri Ulvêre,” I call out, my voice lashing against the steps, echoing through the entire arena and snatching every single person’s attention. But my eyes find the king’s. “I am not gone, and Ido not bow.”
My cloak rips off with a shove of my ribbons, and gold shoots forward, the liquid metal clotted with veins of black. I race down the steps of the arena toward Emonie and Wick, and people scream as my gold streams with me, but I’m not here to hurt innocents.
I’m here for the guilty.
They tried to erase me, but they didn’t succeed. They tried to say who I was, but I’m going to show them.
Guards surround the king and clunkily move him away at the other end of the viewing arena. At the stage below, Vulmin prisoners struggle against their bindings and try to get away.
Cords of gold split off and circle the soldiers like caught livestock. Every single one of them gets cinched inside my molten rope and yanked away from the Vulmin.
I make it to Emonie and Wick seconds after my gold does. My magic already cutting through the Vulmin’s bindings.
“Get their weapons!” Wick shouts at the others as they stagger to their feet, and we all jump off the stage.
“Attack!” I hear the king roar from behind his circle of guards that are leading him back down the steps.
The stone beneath our feet cracks violently and starts to lift from his magic. Before the chunk can toss us on our asses, my gold solidifies the foundation we’re standing on.
I whip around to face the king, and his expression is incensed. “YouTurley filth, I should have slit your throat!”
Rage seeps out from my molten expression. “Yes. You should have.”
“Kill her!” he barks out as more soldiers stream toward us.
I lunge a wave of gold toward him, but before it can hit, he pulls stone from the stair in front of him. It lashes up into a barrier, making my liquid metal splash against it. Behind me, the Vulmin are fighting against the soldiers, and the spectators are screaming and running.
But some people from the crowd are rushingin, taking up arms. Not against the Vulmin, buthelping.
Someone from a rooftop shouts, “We rise with the dawn!”
Answering calls pepper the air, and I’m stunned as fae leap from rooftops and appear through the trees. They sprint downthe steps, rushing down into the square to help the other Vulmin and join the fight.
Dozens of them. More than I can count.
And it’s suddenly clear.Thisis why they tried to make the Vulmin a laughing stock. Because if there are this many ready to risk their identities and their lives in the capital city, then how many more are there throughout all of Annwyn?
There’s fighting in the square and on the steps, the clash of soldiers and Vulmin ringing out all around me. It’s a crescendo of violence in the ruthless song of battle, and the beast inside of me sings.
