I react on primal instinct. My hand splays and power surges.
Damien howls as every bone in his outstretched hand shatters.
Screams erupt as the surrounding courtiers process what has transpired. I catch sight of Finn over his brother’s shoulder, his face awash with undiluted horror. At any other moment, that look might be enough to break my heart.
Right now? There’s nothing left to shatter.
I surge toward the doors.
A few guards try to block my path, but I clear the doors and dash to the hallway before they can catch me. My magic is hot and thick against my skin, buoyed by the zinging pleasure of release. As I run, I’m plunging into the depths of my power, drawing up cords of it as fast as I can.
I need to make it to the tree. I need to get back to Ruin. I have no plan after that. I hear soldiers behind me and try to ignore the clattering sound. My muscles ache, and my lungs scream at me as I push myselffaster, willing myself toflyacross the palace’s marble floors toward the beckoning East Wing.
No one in the hospital knows what’s happening as I blitz past. All they see is a girl in a ball gown, running like her Gods-damn life depends on it toward the east terrace. I know every twist and turn of the staging floor by heart, and I manage to shake off my pursuers as I cut down the hallway toward the storeroom, before diving through the exterior door of Cygnus’s office. Then I hit the gardens, grass beneath my feet, and pick up speed with the sky over me.
I know I’ve almost made it when the gates of the swan garden come into view. But my stomach drops into my shoes as I rush within and find an entire squad of soldiers waiting. Roburn stands among them.
They know about Ruin.
But how?
Stopping, I find another wall of people running at me from the opposite direction; this one is fronted by Finn, with Queen Davina beside him, her skirts billowing and coiffure askew.
I’m surrounded.
“Stay back!”I shriek.
Finn cues the party to halt. “Wait! Justwait! Let me speak to her!” I can see his mind racing, trying to figure out how to spin this, how to smooth it all over.
The running stops, but the guards still creep in closer. As the closest one edges almost to a sword’s length away, I scream again, “Getawayfrom me! I’m warning you!”
“Lyria, please,” Finn says, looking wide-eyed, devastated. “It’s not what you think.”
“Lyria, there’s no need to panic.” Queen Davina speaks up. “This is all just a big misunderstanding. Why don’t we go back to the castle and talk?”
I ignore her. My gaze is locked onto Finn. “Just let me leave,” I beg him. “Let me go, and I won’t hurt anyone else. I don’twantto hurt anyone. Just let me walk away.”
Finn tries taking a step. “Can we just—”
He doesn’t get to finish. A guard charges me. My Talent flares before I can process a single conscious thought. With no time for precision, I lash out instinctively. My intention might have been to cut off his air supply, but the magic is a riptide in this maelstrom of terror, and I have no control, no spatial awareness, no way to stop it. The soldier’s neck snaps.
He tumbles like a rag doll. Dead.
“STOP!” I shriek as others press ever closer. Tears rise, and I’m begging, “Don’t make me do this,please!”
The guards hesitate. Nobody wants to be next.
Abruptly, the queen lunges—but not toward me. Silver flashes in the golden light, and for a moment, I can’t understand what I’m seeing. Queen Davina has a knife in her hand, but it’s not my throat she’s poised to slit.
It’s Finn’s.
When the prince’s eyes meet mine, they’re a mirror of my shock.
Queen Davina snarls, “Surrender or he dies.”
No one moves. No one dares to.
“Hand over the crown,” she demands. “Surrender now, or I swear to the Almighty God, Iwilldo it, Lyria.”
