I charged down the stairs on wobbling legs and across the grounds, swaying slightly when I reached the gates.
Gripping the gold bars, I squeezed my eyes tight for a moment. Deep breaths in through my nose, out through my mouth. Three times, until my head stopped spinning. Screams rang in the distance, the cries of Mystiques in need bolstering me.
When I opened my eyes, I looked at Barrett. “You’re being ridiculous,” he chastised. “Let’s go to the infirmary.”
“Okay.” But I darted down the hill toward the center of the city, ignoring the ringing in my ears and the swimming of my vision.
“Dammit, Ophelia!” Barrett called, chasing after me. His footsteps hounded mine as I ducked between buildings and through streets littered with debris, but I didn’t slow.
Adrenaline mounted in my veins the closer I got to battle, my heart tearing for the warriors who depended on me and the one I couldn’t bear to lose.
“Where was it, where was he…” I panted, turning down alleys at random. The world was spinning quicker.
But as my people fell, I had to at least try to fight with them, die with them, rather than remaining locked up in the palace. I stumbled over rocks, knees still weak. My bare feet sliced open again, but I forged on.
We rounded a corner and nearly ran into the backs of a pair of Engrossians.
Lifting my sword with all the strength I could muster, I stabbed an unaware warrior. He fell hard and fast, eyes flickering with recognition as I slayed him. The half-second of shock in his widened stare was satisfying.
Beside me, Barrett used his Mystique sword to cut down one of his own men, fighting with me, though the tension bunching his muscles said it was the last thing he wanted.
He grimaced as the man died. “That was a better end than a life without honor.” There was a squelch as he removed his sword. “My mother ensured that he had none when she corrupted her army with dark magic,” he reassured himself.
I swallowed, not knowing what words to offer the exiled heir who readily chose honor at the expense of his own blood.
“Barrett,” I breathed, extending a hand.
But the thin layer of clouds blocking the moon shifted, and there was a flash behind him.
“Duck!”
I groaned as I ripped my dagger from my thigh with my injured arm and sent it spinning at the warrior sneaking behind Barrett.
It lodged itself in his throat, blood spurting from the artery. Barrett whirled, barely stepping out of the way as the warrior fell.
“Thanks,” he panted, retrieving my dagger.
I nodded, energy fading quicker now.
Lifting my gaze to the street, I froze. A wave of black-armored warriors were rushing toward us. They injured and killed Mystiques still dressed in their Daminius finery—one by one.
I was too late, I realized with a devastated slice through my heart. The Mystiques were losing. I hadn’t found Tol.
It didn’t matter that Kakias had fled; she’d left her army behind to take us out in her wake. If I managed to survive with the poisoned slice to my arm, she’d be back for me. To finish what she started.
And we’d spread ourselves too thin. We’d fallen for her trap, stationing warriors at points around the mountains instead of fortifying the city.
We had thought Damenal was safe.
We had underestimated her desperate schemes. What she’d been doing all these months. We hadn’t accounted for the tunnels through the mountains. Her plan had been to throw us off—and we had fallen for it.
And now, blood splashed across the streets. Screams tore through the air. We were dying.
My vision darkened for a full second. Holding my head up was difficult.
When it returned, a slight Engrossian woman was charging at me. Forcing my sword arm up for one last fight, I landed my blade against hers.
The impact rocked through my bones, but I gritted my teeth against the pain. My injured arm throbbed, the rest of my battered body echoing it.
