Then a dark winged creature soars out of the sky to rip the toddler right out of the soldier’s arms.
“Nakiis,” says the king, and he doesn’t sound panicked. He sounds relieved.
The answer comes on a blast of cold wind. “Your daughter is safe, magesmith.”
Suddenly, the man is wide open, his arms bleeding from whatever the winged creature did to him. He’s still got a dagger in one hand, and I watch him turn on Tycho. He’s wearing a breastplate, and he’s at least seventy-five yards away, but I can see every inch of exposed skin.
I have one arrow left.
I know soldiers who can’t hit a target at that distance.
I’m shooting before I even mean to. The arrow goes right through his neck.
“Nice shot,” says the king.
I don’t have time to enjoy the praise. Whatever magic held the others seems to have snapped loose, because Grey and I are suddenly facing ten more swords. But more screams fill the air: impossibly beautiful and terrifying winged creatures with fangs and talons come out of the sky from every direction.
They slice into the remaining soldiers viciously, severing limbs without hesitation, until none are left standing.
I can’t breathe for an entirely new reason. I think of all the stories I used to read with Callyn, and it’s like seeing them come to life. I don’t know if I should be terrified or grateful. I’m a little bit of both.
But the first, the one the king called Nakiis, lands in front of us with the little girl. The other scravers cling to the trees surrounding the clearing. I can’t stop staring.
The little girl reaches for her father tearfully. “Da. I don’t like this game.”
The king struggles to get to his feet, but his leg won’t hold him.
“I don’t either,” he says.
I put out a hand, and he blinks at me in surprise—then takes it. The little girl grabs him tight around the waist, and he winces, but he doesn’t pull away.
He looks at the winged creature. “The queen?” he says quietly.
“And … Tycho?” I say hopefully.
“Both are being attended to.” Nakiis sighs, but he’s looking at the steel bolt protruding from the king’s thigh. “Whydo you fools keep leaving charmed steel against your skin? Your magic will never recover.” Without warning, he reaches out, grabs the steel, and yanks it free.
The king swears and cries out, but he grips the table and stays on his feet.
I stare out at the fallen bodies surrounding the forge. Blood is everywhere. I don’t see my father. I don’t see Callyn. My breathing is shaking in my chest.
Then the princess draws back to look at the king. “Da. If you’re done, we have to see to Princess Nora.”
CHAPTER 59
CALLYN
Nora isn’t dead. That should be a relief, but it’s not.
Blood is trailing out of her mouth while she chokes. Her eyes were desperate for a while, but now the life in them is beginning to fade. I’m holding her hand, kneeling in the leaves. I’m terrified. I’m pleading. Stars keep flaring in my eyes, and I must be lightheaded from the shock.
“Please,” I’m crying. “Please.”
The queen has her hands on Nora’s chest. “I’m trying,” she whispers. “I’m trying. I’m not like Grey.”
One of the winged creatures who attacked the soldiers lands in the leaves beside us, and I shriek, covering my sister. “No!”
“Be at ease,” the creature says, and her voice is softer than I expect, behind the fierceness of her countenance. The first one had gray skin and dark wings, with a length of black hair, but this one has purple markings on her skin and the underside of her wings, with a long purple streak through her hair. The air around us turns ice cold, and she reaches a hand toward Nora.
