He turns his eyes to the sky, squinting through the smoke that hangs in the air. Then a smile tugs his lips. “For that.”
I follow his gaze, unsure of what he’s looking at. There’s nothing there. Nothing out of the ordinary, at least.
Then I see it.
A red light hovers in the sky, darting this way and that as if in search of something. Franco waves his arms wildly in the air until the light pauses. After only a moment’s hesitation, it shoots down toward us. As it draws near, I see the unrestrained joy on Breeda’s tiny face. “Your Most Beautiful Esteemed Majesty!” she squeals, flying around my head with dizzying speed. When she stops, she extends her arms, revealing a silver disc. “Look what I brought you.”
A Chariot.MyChariot. The one I hid in the planter outside my bedroom window.
I open a palm and she sets the device upon it, then brushes her hands together. “That was heavy.”
“We have what we need,” Franco says. “Now it’s time to leave.”
I close my fingers around the disc and narrow my eyes. “I’m not leaving without Aspen or Amelie.”
He grasps me by the shoulders, desperation in his eyes. “Aspen and the others have their own Chariot, Evelyn. As soon as we’re away, Breeda will fly up and give the signal. The others will follow us.”
My heart sinks at the thought of leaving without Aspen. But if he’s only stalling for me to get away…
“We at least need to wait for my sister.” I turn to where the waves lap upon the bloody shore, my eyes seeking any sign of life between here and the wreckage of the boat, where flames and smoke continue to rise into the sky. Behind that, the hulking warship remains. With the sea so wild, I can’t make out much else at all. Then finally, I see movement halfway down the beach.
Amelie falls to her knees as she fights her way out of the waves to catch her breath. She made it.
I rush toward her, Franco close at my side. “Amelie!” I call out.
She turns to face me, her eyes lighting with relief. But it’s short lived as her attention is drawn to the other end of the shore.
Every muscle in her body stiffens, and I watch as her fingers curl into fists.
The air leaves my lungs when I realize what has her so distracted. It’s Cobalt and the sea fae, fighting more human soldiers. I see now that some of the humans have built a barricade to hide behind, revealing their faces only to take aim with their rifles. The rest of the soldiers engage the sea fae in close physical combat. Cobalt’s blue scales are shredded in places, revealing bloody gashes. Some lesions go as far down to the bone. And yet he fights just as fiercely as if he were unwounded. There’s almost a madness to the way he dodges the blasts of the guns, falters for only seconds when struck by an iron bullet. He presses on despite every wound.
Fueled by Amelie’s command.Kill these men.
My gaze returns to my sister, but she continues to watch her mate. Without taking her eyes off him, she reaches into the sand, retrieving a discarded blade. Then, to my complete horror, she charges into the fight.
“Amelie, no!” I halt, my scream shattering the air, yet it doesn’t reach her.
“Evelyn, watch out!” Franco yanks me roughly by the arm as a figure nearly barrels into me. We stumble back as Mr. Duveau rises clumsily to his feet, dripping seawater. He’s lost his jacket and waistcoat, his shirt torn and stained crimson. He darts forward again, but a red flame sears his face, making him lurch back.
“Stay away!” Breeda shouts, brandishing a tiny fist. “I am charged with protecting Her Most Beautiful and Gracious Majesty.”
Duveau blinks, eyes unfocused in the heat of the fire sprite. Then, with a shout, he swipes his hand through the air, right through Breeda’s flames, and sends her spiraling through the air.
Franco pushes me behind him, and shadows begin to writhe around his shoulders. As he grows taller, the skin prickles on the back of my neck. I don’t need to see his face to know what he looks like. I’ve seen how terrifying he can be, how he can transform his features into those of a nightmarish monster at will. The true origin of the haunting vampire tales of my youth.
I back up a step, catching a glimpse of the councilman.
Duveau, however, seems nonplussed. He grimaces but shows none of the terror the drivers of the ship revealed. “You forget, princeling. I’ve been dealing with the fae my whole life.” In one swift move, he reaches for the waistband of his trousers to withdraw his revolver.
Fear floods me, but I know the gun is wet. Surely it won’t work…
Mr. Duveau swipes out, and that’s when I realize he hadn’t pulled out his gun at all, but a blade. Franco doubles over and staggers back, grasping the left side of his torso. Blood flows through his fingers, and I can only hope the cut sliced over his ribs and not into his heart.
My preoccupation with Franco is all Duveau needs, and he lunges for me yet again. He tackles me to the ground and crawls on top of me, straddling my hips. I expect to feel the edge of his blade strike me next, or for his fingers to wrap around my throat. But all his efforts are thrown into grasping my right hand. He twists my wrist, making me cry out. Then his weight releases me, and I scramble to my feet.
Duveau retreats, flashing me a wild gaze before turning his attention to what he holds in his hand. My Chariot. With a grin, he opens the lid, the bright golden light wrapping around him in an instant. I dive forward, but in the blink of an eye, he’s gone.
I stand staring at the empty air for a few moments, until more pressing concerns steal my focus. I whirl toward Franco and Breeda. The prince’s face is pale as he grasps his wound, but he shakes his head.
