“They're pouring through the city, killing everyone in sight.” Moira whimpered, tugging on her hair. “They’re going to?—”
“Who?” I snarled.
“Borgons,” Calista said softly, her face flushed and her body one big shake. “They’re attacking the city.”
33
Reyla
Spinning, I snatched up the diary and rushed toward my bedroom, unstrapping the sheaths holding my twin blades from around my waist, my fingers feeling too slow and clumsy. They, my sword sheath, and the diary hit the bed with dull thuds while tension coiled around my ribs. My hands fumbled at the silly gown Calista had insisted I wear to the throne room. But I couldn’t reach the fastening in the back, and that made anger burn under my skin. Every wasted second felt like another life lost in the city.
My ladies followed me, wringing their hands and fluttering around me, their faces tracked with tears.
“Help me out of this wretched thing,” I shouted. “Now.”
Moira snapped into action, swiping away at her tears. She nodded and went to work on the back of the dress. While Calistaunfastened my necklace and Faelith, my earrings, my dress peeled away at Moira’s touch. It stuck to my skin like I’d been pacing for hours in the heat. When the dress flopped down onto my hips, I stepped out of it and kicked it aside, only pausing to tug the velvet bag with the librarian’s gift from the pocket.
I strode to the closet and snatched a set of leathers from a hanger, pausing to tuck the book and the odd gift on the top shelf, sliding a box holding silky gloves I’d never wear in front to hide the objects.
Silence fell over the room as I turned. Even Farris only sat on the floor, staring at me with what I swore was a frown.
“Find my boots. Quickly,” I spat, my voice sharp enough to cut through the fog of terror clinging to the air.
Faelith sagged against the wall. “What are you going to do?” Her voice quavered as if she feared my answer more than the borgons attacking our people.
“Fight off the creatures.” The strength in my voice left no room for debate.
When I left the fortress, I thought I’d said goodbye to battling feral beasts, but they’d followed. Not dregs, but something equally petrifying.
Borgons.
I didn’t even know what they looked like other than Merrick’s vague description. Fierce creatures with wings and furry bodies. The size of a small shed. Fangs and vicious claws. Sounded enough like dregs to make my spine quake.
The deep gashes on Lord Ferlaern’s body was enough to strike terror into even the toughest heart.
“We can’t do this,” Moira whispered, her small voice cracking like a fragile shell. “I don’t even know how to hold a weapon, let alone wield it.”
“I do.” I ripped the dagger sheath from my bed and bound it atmy waist. Each click as I secured it was like a countdown, ticking faster. “You need to stay here and protect Farris. I’ll deal with the borgons. My people need me.”
Theyweremy people, even those who were trying to overthrow our rule. At our hearts, we needed to be one when facing a threat like this. If they couldn’t see that, they could step aside and let me take care of the problem for them.
Moira covered her mouth with shaking hands. Faelith’s brows drew together as she shifted her weight uneasily.
“You…my queen. You can’t,” Calista said. “Please reconsider. You?—”
“I’m going to the city, and I’m going to fight.” Striding to the bed again, I grabbed my sword and secured it to my spine, tightening the belts on my chest. “My boots, ladies? Where did you put them?”
Calista’s gaze shot to the closet, but she pinched her lips together. Truly, did she think if I couldn’t find them, I’d remain here while others died to protect me?
“My queen,” she groaned. “It’s…foolish.”
Merrick would be down in the village already, defending our people like I longed to do.
“Foolish would be cowering here,” I said.
“You’re the queen. You should to go to the throne room and remain there to direct those who will battle,” she said, as if this was the most practical thing for a woman in my position to do.
Erisandra would.
