“You should get in line behind Rune,” Draven says from the bed.
Shit.
Morgan casts the words aside, eyes blazing. “You’re going to take a hundred blades, like what they gave my father for participating in the uprising. And you’re not gonna call out for your guards. Fallon will know if you do. If you call for help, I’ll take your punishment out on her instead.” Morgan points the dagger at me.
“That’s a little tempting considering she got me into this bind.” The ghost of a smile hints Draven’s full lips. In my mind there’s a little warmth emanating from him though, a reassurance. The burning underlayment of my tattoo lessens.
“I don’t buy it. Anyone can see how badly you want her.” Morgan nods at me and I hate the enjoyment sparking in his eyes as he takes in my fear, then Draven’s, breaking through the performance.
“You’re right,” Draven acknowledges, and my heart cracks open, because I can tell that’s true. He looks at me, a promisepressed in that glance, like petals on a page. Then his attention flits to Morgan. “But there’s a problem with your plan. My hands are free.”
The ropes dissolve. I never tied them with magic. But he did, kept them on to hear whatever he needed to of Morgan’s plan. He’s been in control this whole time.
I hear him clearly, mind to mind, when he breaks through my shields,Get down!
I drop, hands over my head as darkness floods the room, Draven’s power blasting through the bedroom like a bomb. When I look up, coughing from the debris and blood, I spot him standing in the center of the room, golden magic glowing around him in an orbit, the World Arcana and what seems like half the Major Arcana drawn, too. I join his side, the two of us standing back-to-back as the Ascendants stagger to their feet.
I can’t use my Arcana, as Morgan still has a hold on it, but I don’t need magic.
As if reading my mind, Draven pulls twin daggers from the inside of his jacket, placing their familiar weight into my hand. I put one in each, bracing my back against his as the Ascendants rush us from all sides.
I let Draven take my weight as I lean back and kick one rebel in the knee, dislocating it, pushing off Draven’s back and thigh as I dodge forward, sliding and slicing another rebel’s hamstring. Draven’s magic is brutal, shadows flooding every corner, ripping those trying to escape back by their ankles.
I fight my way to Fallon, noticing how she’s clutching her temple in the corner, as if she’s sending out a silent order. I smash my fist into her skull and she drops to the ground.
Behind me, Draven summons his sword, holding a rebel by the throat.
“We should keep them alive to question them,” I shout.
“Fine.”His voice is short, and he rolls his eyes as if not killing them is an inconvenience.
He draws Death, opening a portal. He shoves the rebel through it, screaming, and his sword shrinks back into a ring on his finger. I grasp Fallon by the collar and toss her through it, too.
The two of us divide the room, Draven’s portals opening for me to kick or push rebels through, the rest of his magic blocking the doors and allowing him to fight whoever’s left.
We work completely in sync, silent and rageful.
The brawny Strength Arcana who’d pinned me before comes charging at me like a bull. I flick one of the knives into his thigh, bracing myself with the other. Then he’s on me, swinging his fists wildly. I dodge under his arm as he connects with the wall and leaves a sizable hole. He’s all muscle, no skill. I strike with my fist, hitting select pressure points that knock his arm out of socket. He wails, his dominant hand suddenly limp before I use my heel to drop him, knocking a knee out of place.
Lightning crackles near me, and I’m distracted by a Tower Arcana, electricity warping around his fist. For all my Wraith skills, I’m nothing next to this. I can’t fistfight a thunderstorm.
Draven’s voice, dark as midnight, rolls over us. “Oh no you don’t.”
Draven summons the Sun, a whip of plasma lashing out and grasping the guy’s forearm, scalding burns across his flesh, causing him to drop his Tower card, and Draven yanks him and the last remaining Ascendants through a portal. The room is suddenly quiet as we’re finally left alone, every portal closing.
He clenches his fist, and I don’t know how to begin to apologize. I don’t exactly have a lot of experience with it.
He stares at me as if he’s waiting for an explanation. I open my mouth—but someone grabs me from behind.
Morgan.
He must’ve been hiding under the bed like a coward.
Morgan clutches me to him, glowering at Draven as if he’s the Prince of Hells. Maybe he is. Draven bears his fangs, but Morgan pulls a knife and holds it against my throat. Draven goes deathly still.
“What did you do with them?” Morgan asks Draven, his hand trembling and I try hard not to flinch against the shaking blade.
“The same thing I’m going to do with you.” Draven’s eyes dart to me, holding steady, as Morgan grits his teeth.
