They call taunts now, too, words that find our ears by virtue of their magic on the wind.
—Prepare to die, magesmiths.
—We followed you here.
—You will no longer control us.
Grey says nothing, but I can feel him weakening. I am, too. Every time the scravers draw blood, we heal the damage, but we’ve been fighting for so long. I can’t remember the last time I heard Malin snap an arrow. The scravers are gaining ground, and our magic begins to tremble. I can hear his breathing, a bit ragged, and I’m sure mine matches. I remember the night we galloped hard to ride for Lia Mara and Sinna, how he burned out his magic. He collapsed, unconscious.
If that happens now, we’re both dead.
Just as I think it, a scraver slams into him—which sends Grey crashing into me. We all go down in a tangle of armor, weapons, and wings. The scraver’s fangs brush against my face, and Grey cries out.
But then I hear a blade pierce flesh, and the scraver slides sideways.
Malin stands over us, his breathing ragged. His face slick with blood from a wound over his eye, but a sword is in his hands.
Grey and I scramble free. We’re both speckled with blood—our own, as well as from the dying creatures that surround us.
A dozen more remain high in the air, but these aren’t attacking—yet. I don’t recognize any of them, but a male scraver at the center has deep rust-colored skin, with vibrant red-and-purple wings.
Words find our ears.
—Your magic won’t last much longer.
I’m panting like I’ve sprinted a mile, and so is Grey. The air is still so cold, and our breath makes quick clouds. A deep wound across my left shoulder is burning. When I try to send magic to heal it, my vision flickers dangerously.
“Why aren’t they attacking?” says Malin.
“They’re assessing how much longer we can last,” Grey says bitterly. He glances at us. “You should get under—”
“If you tell me to get under cover again,” I say, “I really am going to punch you.” I look past him, at the sky, and frown. “I thought Nakiis and his scravers might help.”
If Nakiis is anywhere nearby, he’ll hear me. But if he is, he doesn’t respond.
Overhead, the red-and-purple scraver seems to smile. A blast of ice-cold wind tears across the field.
—Nakiis won’t face us, he says.
“Are you Xovaar?” I call. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to—”
—We do have to do this. You took our magic. And we want it back.
Then he dives, and there’s no time for thought. There’s no time for anything. I just brace for the attack.
CHAPTER 46
CALLYN
The guards and advisers keep trying to convince the queen to withdraw deeper into the palace, but she refuses. Nora has taken little Sinna into the corner, and now they’re curled up behind a series of guards while my sister braids the princess’s hair. I can hear Nora telling the same silly stories I once toldher, and if the world weren’t falling apart around us, it might make me smile.
The queen has moved a bit down the hallway, to where a slit in the stone wall allows for a bit of view of the training fields beyond, but we can’t see much. I followed her over here, the king’s final order still echoing in my ears.
Stay with her. Help her.
Not the guards, not the advisers. Not even the queen’s sister.
Me.
