The man grits his teeth and draws a long dagger.
Quicker than thought, Nikko and Roman have arrows nocked—and Garrett and Callum have weapons drawn. The closest men scramble back, but that one violent motion has triggered a dozen others, like the spark from a hearth launching an inferno. The men are suddenly wielding their tools like weapons. Two have real daggers, but the others are armed more crudely with hammers or axes—tools they must have been in the midst of using. They’re shouting at Ky, they’re shouting at the soldiers, and I sense that they’re not going to wait for those reinforcements coming down the hill. I look past them, expecting more armed men, but all I see are swirls of color. The newcomers are shouting, too, but their voices are tiny and high-pitched, unlike the men in front of us. The crowds gathering outside the city gates have grown.
“If you can’t help us,” one man growls at Ky, “whatgoodare you?”
Another one surges forward with his dagger. “Maybe we should solve the problem right now.”
He slams into Garrett, but the soldier snaps the blade right out of his hand, then slams him to the ground—more aggressively than before. Blood blooms on the man’s lip.
I suck in a sharp breath, and Lady Charlotte gives a little yip of alarm. “Your Highness,” she breathes at me. “We must run.”
But we can’t. We’re trapped between the king and his men and the citizens running down the hill. There must be more than a dozen of them—with more waiting outside the gates to the city.
We’ve been braced for silent assassins for days. I never thought we’d walk right into an assault from Ky’s own people. In a moment, we’re going to be surrounded.
But then I realize that the people coming down the hill aren’t calling for more violence. “Stop!” they’re shouting. “Stop this!”
They’re not armed reinforcements at all. They’re women, they’re children, they’re two dozen people shouting for the others tostop.
Ky’s soldiers are completely still, braced for violence. Waiting for an attack—or an order.
The king is already moving his hand toward his shoulder. Three fingers this time.
Lethal force.
“No!” The word comes out of me like a crack of lightning. I don’t wait to see if the king listens, or even if his soldiers do. Heedless of arrows and swords and whatever else they might have, I swing to the ground and stride between the horses and soldiers.
Behind me, I hear swearing and regrouping, and a hand grabs for my jacket, but I slip free. I don’t know if it’s Asher or the king, or maybe even Charlotte. A man mutters, “Stars in darkness, Jory,” and then boots hit the ground.
Thatis definitely Asher.
I don’t care. I keep going.
Garrett and Callum have swords drawn now, but I step between them. The older tradesmen are braced like they’re going to surge forward and attack, regardless of the consequences. The others are going to be on top of us any minute, and I sense this reallywillturn into a battle.
But these men are ready to go down fighting. A note of desperation hangs in the air, and I know they’ve seen the nocked arrows.
He’s letting his magic kill us all.
This is different from the Suross people. They just wanted to be left alone.
These people are about to attack their king—and they don’t care that he might kill them. They don’t think they have anything to lose.
It reminds me of that moment in the inn, when Asher finally broke. The way he said I didn’t see him. The way he saidno onesees him.
When I step past the soldiers, the men quickly size me up—and immediately disregard me. I’m certainly not dressed as a princess, and I’m clearly not much of a threat.
But that’s fine. I’ve spent a lifetime in my brother’s shadow, and I’m not really used to anyone seeingmeeither.
“I am Princess Marjoriana of Astranza,” I shout. “Tell me what has been done.” I pause, looking at each of them in turn. They’re all breathing hard, glaring. “Tell me what you need.”
“He knows what we need!” snaps the one with the dagger. He thrusts it in the air, gesturing toward the king, but it’s two inches from my face.
Garrett steps forward, but Asher is quicker—and closer. He grabs the man’s wrist.
“Stop,” he says, and his voice is deadly quiet. “Listen to her.”
The man begins to fight him, but whatever he sees in Asher’s face makes him go still. I forgot how lethally terrifying he can be when he wants to be.
