They laugh and then the first one charges. He swings his sword, and Brevan moves with feline grace, dodging the blow. He twists, effortlessly slicing his blade across the man’s throat.
The intruder grips at his neck, his eyes wide with terror. Blood pours from the wound. Gurgling sounds come when he opens and closes his mouth. He falls to his knees, eyes impossibly wide, then he slumps to the ground. A puddle of crimson spreads around him. Mouth hanging open, his lifeless eyes stare at nothing.
The other men charge Brevan as a unit, all five of them swinging swords and throwing punches. It’s a tangle of limbs and steel, and I’m getting dizzy just trying to follow the attacks.
One of the men leaves the fray and charges toward me. I scream and throw my arms up in front of my face in a pathetic attempt to defend myself.
Then, in a blinding flash of light, everything goes quiet. It’s like I’m floating, like the world has lost all sense of up and down. There’s no ground beneath my feet. No fight in front of me, no man charging at me. It’s pure empty oblivion.
I think I might be dead.
The light contracts suddenly, and I’m thrown to the ground, landing hard. The man who’d been charging me falls on top of me, blood gushing from his mouth and slit throat. I cry out and scramble away until his body slides to the ground next to me. I’m covered in blood, but I don’t think any of it is mine.
Brevan is on his knees, panting, daggers still in his grip. Four bloody bodies surround him.
It’s quiet. Too quiet.
I don’t hear any more explosions or fighting. Carefully, I stand and walk over to Brevan. Dark purple smudges surround his eyes, like he’s been punched, and blood runs from his nose.
I step over one of the bodies, then crouch in front of Brevan. “Are you alright?”
He looks at me and nods, then winces. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” I snap.
He tries to stand but falls to his hands and knees instead. I drop down next to him. “Let me help you.” I tear a piece of fabric from my dress and wipe the blood off his face. His nose continues to bleed, so I tear more fabric and hold it there for a minute.
Brevan drops his daggers, then grips my wrist with a large hand. I pull back and lower my arm.
“I need. To get to my. Quarters,” he says through labored breathing.
This is the man who was supposed to be the most dangerous fighter in the emperor’s arsenal? I know there were five of them, but he’s exhausted. He stumbles as we walk, like he might topple over at any minute. He did something that cost him.
“What’s wrong with you?” The words are out before I can stop them.
He wines as he takes a deep breath. “I’ll explain, but not here. I need you to help me to my room.”
I hate seeing him like this. “I never thoughtyou’dneedmyhelp.”
“I did save your life back there,” he says.
“I know. Thank you.” I stand, then extend my hand.
He takes it, and I’m surprised when he actually needs my help to get up. It’s a struggle, and I almost topple over, but I manage to get him to his feet.
We move slowly to the end of the hallway. Bodies are scattered around the entryway. Both rebel and Night Legion. I scan the faces of the fallen rebels, my brow furrowing. I don’t recognize a single person. I don’t know everyone in the rebellion, but I know a lot of them. It is a fairly small group, too. As far as I know, we couldn’t afford to lose twenty men to one attempt on the castle. Where did these people come from?
Lee is lying to me. He lied to me about Brevan murdering my brothers, and he lied about me being the only way to get into the castle. He must have lied about our numbers and the frequency at which they attempted to break into the castle. I certainly was never aware of any missions to get into the library or vault.
I don’t know him like I thought I did. I don’t think I know the rebellion like I thought I did, either.
Brevan leans on me as we stumble down the halls. He’s heavy and navigating with his weight on me isn’t easy. I’m still in disbelief that he’s so dependent on me. In his state, he wouldn’t be able to return to his room on his own.
“What did they do to you?” I ask.
“It’s more what I did to them,” he says. “This way.”
A few legionnaires pass us, and a pair of courtiers, covered in blood, are being guided up the stairs. They’re too busy to notice us. A couple of servants scurry by, and they do look at us, but they quickly turn their attention away.
