His brows draw in, but with his cards tainted and his blood loss, he has no choice. He argues, “Altair wants you. You should come with me.”
“I need to help them stall until Zara gets Commander Soto’s soldiers.” I don’t drop his gaze, I cannot for a second let him think I’m afraid of this. That I doubt myself. “There’s no time to argue. We’ll fight. You get our families to safety.”
Finally, he nods, submitting, though there’s fire in his gaze. He turns to Fable. “Listen to her. If the tide turns, you get her out.”
She nods to him, a solemn look in her eyes that tells me she will obey that order even if I beg her not to.
I grasp Draven by the shirt, kissing him, and he holds on to me like I’m the only anchor in a storm. His soft lips cling to me, tongue parting me as his hands grasp me, cradling my face against his. I don’t know if I’m coming back from this. I don’t know if the seraphs will siege the castle while he’s inside. If my mother will be taken. I don’t know what comes next, and I can feel his uncertainty, too, both of us reluctant to separate.
I break first and turn my back on him before I can hesitate a moment longer.
I focus ahead, taking stock of my friends and his, and the mixed Arcana between us. Death, Judgment, the Devil, the Hanged Man, the Sun, the Moon, the Star, and me. The World.
Lightning slams into the lawns ahead of us, almost blinding, and we turn to see a squadron of seraphs in its wake, King Altair at the lead. Kasper runs into the safety of their numbers. A warning bell sounds within the castle and guards appear along the walls, many rushing to defend it, or filtering onto the lawns behind us.
But I can tell by the sheer number of winged seraphs that even with a few more guards, we’re not enough. Half of us are first-years, but what choice do we have?
I repeat the mantra my mother taught me, so long as I do not fear them, they hold no power over me.
I summon the World as we march across the sloping lawn to greet them. We spread out in a phalanx, something we’ve just learned in sparring.
Scorpius at my side mutters, “That’s two of your friends who’ve turned coat.”
I shoot a look at him. Really? Now?
He takes my measure in a glance. “If you’re one of them, if you’ve set us up or hurt Draven, I’ll kill you myself.”
He morphs his body into Draven’s, but his cold eyes give away the cheap imitation.
“Lay off,” Wynter growls, fangs descending, stalking at my other side. He’s the next most powerful with Judgment. He gives me a bit more confidence as the distance between us and the seraphs narrows. We’re close enough now to clearly see their faces.
King Altair is at the front of their group, and beside him … my father. My heart plummets. His hands shake holding that sword of light, gold eyes shining with tears. Will he kill me if it comes to it?
With his vow, would he have a choice?
Altair’s men funnel Kasper to the back, protecting him. Princess Reva’s with them, and she observes Kasper as he is, a snake in the grass. Is he now heir to Nevaeh’s throne, displacing her? She grasps hold of him, a wave of light blaring down over them, and the two disappear, her shepherding him home.
I wanted to kill him. My fists clench and then I draw on Judgment, and the rest of my group summon their cards up, too.
“Rune Ryker, I’m not surprised to see you here. I suppose I should be thanking you for this.” King Altair holds up the Darkstone. “Did you go to Alfheim just to look for it?”
The others in my group check with me, but I stay silent. The vow I made to Draven burns through me, but I wouldn’t have risen to Altair’s bait anyway. There’s no way I’m letting him know what we’re up to.
He observes me, the blinding white of his halo floating across his temple like a crown, reflecting off that perfect blond hair. He lifts his chin. “You’re going to come with me, as is your mother. I know she’s here.”
He takes in the battle stances of each person around me. Whether they’re fighting for me, or Draven, or because oaths demand it, I don’t know, but I’m glad they’re here.
I can’t help looking to my father. Tears streak my face, but I lift my chin. Just like he taught me to. “Tough luck, Your Majesty. We aren’t going anywhere with you,” I tell him. The wind whips around me, the steadfast light of the stars and the full moon lighting up the night. The magic burns off our groups; our cards casting a kaleidoscope of colors, the seraphs as white and blinding as lit sulfur.
King Altair takes the first step and we burst like oil thrown in a fire.
Wynter and I cast Judgment across several seraphs, and I bend their will to mine. My magic isn’t perfect, but it’s enough to be deadly. I cut down a seraph with one of my knives, razor edge slicing through his soft, unprotected neck, then use Judgment to force two more to impale each other on their blades.
I’ve lost sight of my father and King Altair in the fray. Cleona rushes by me, using a bow that Ember crafted to fire off arrows of fire, knocking seraphs from the sky. Amaya slices through the crowd below, disappearing and popping out of shadowsacross the battlefield. She comes in for killing blows, and anytime someone gets too close to Cleona, she’s there to take them by surprise.
Another seraph rushes me, and I meet him head-on, bolting under his swinging sword and plunging my dagger into his right shoulder blade. He goes to retaliate, throwing a hidden dagger at me with his left hand, but it stops midair. Nearby, Fable summons the Hanged Man and suspends time. I smash my boot into the seraph’s skull, knocking him out cold. Ember moves past me, following Fable into the heat of battle.
I search across the battle. Wherever Altair is, my father will be, too. I need to kill the seraph king if I can, or at least stall him. Maybe then I can put a stop to this whole fight.
