“Oh, come now, Brother Dearest,” Sorsha called. “Don’t run from me! Though, if you’d like to play a game, I’mmorethan willing to engage in a round of hide-and-seek!”
Panting, Ramson straightened himself as best as he could and began to hobble forward. The end of the hallway looked insurmountably far away, and he could hear the jagged clicks of his half sister’s footsteps as she stalked him, a cat hunting a mouse.
Ramson let out a stream of curse words as he wiped blood from his mouth, his other hand gripping the sword—now functionally useless against Sorsha’s magek.
“Iseeyou!” Sorsha’s words echoed down the length of the hall in a mocking lilt.
The walls were crumbling around him beneath Sorsha’s magek. A portrait of the Three Gods intertwined smashed against the searock floor, and even as Ramson leapt over it, he knew he’d run out of time. The end of the corridor was too far away.
Gritting his teeth, he flung his sword down the end of the hallway as far from him as possible before turning to face Sorsha. She looked like a creature out of a nightmare. Her eyes bulged from her face in glee, her hands were splayed to either side of her, and dozens of fragments of metal hovered at her back.
Ramson thought back to the magek he’d seen her use. Fire first; then stone. And iron, her specialty.
His eyes caught on the fallen portrait in front of him.Gold and wood,he thought.
It would have to do.
With a prayer to the gods, he scrambled forward and heaved the frame from the ground, placing it before his body like a shield.
He heard Sorsha cackle with pleasure. “Oh,clever,” she shrieked. “In that case, let’s play target practice!”
The iron spikes whistled forward, thudding against the wood of the frame. Some more clacked against the wall at the end of the hallway.
But then the ones embedded in the portrait began to shudder, morphing into thinner, longer projectiles.
Ramson uttered a curse and flung the painting aside just as the spikes wrenched themselves free. They turned to him.
Ramson hauled himself to his feet and began to run, but he heard more whistling through the air, followed by an explosive pain through his shoulder that knocked him to the floor. Warmth pooled on the fabric of his sleeve. He didn’t have to look to know the metal had buried itself deep, but just shallow enough to have avoided severing a muscle.
He’d been through worse. Kerlan had forced him to become well acquainted with pain. Even Jonah, Ramson thought, had given him worse beatings during sparring practice back at the Naval Academy.
Ramson gritted his teeth and pushed himself back up. “That all you got?”
Sorsha laughed in delight. “Oh, Ilovethe attitude! Unfortunately, that’s not going to save you.” She lifted her arms, and the remaining iron spikes turned toward him. “Good-bye, Brother Dearest.”
Utterly defenseless, Ramson raised his bare hands. After an entire lifetime spent running, he’d never thought he would die fighting on his own two feet. Yet as he adjusted his position, he realized that there was something holding him up that was stronger than fear, stronger than any impulse or desire he’d harbored in his life.
In this moment, he thought of Ana, and waited for the spikes to come.
They didn’t.
There was a shriek as Sorsha was lifted into the air and sent hurtling down the hall. She slammed into the wall and rolled, her iron fragments clanging to the floor around her.
“He’s mine,” came a familiar voice. “And I don’t share.”
Ramson turned to see Ana striding toward him from the other end of the hall, her arms outstretched, her irises ringed red. Her hair was tangled and wet, the dark blue gown she wore now mud-splattered and torn.
Ramson didn’t think he’d seen her look more beautiful.
Down the corridor from them, Sorsha snarled. As she lifted herself from the ground, however, a familiar ringing chimed across the fortress grounds.
The bells were chiming the hours.
Sorsha stilled, her head cocked.
Ramson counted. By his side, Ana froze, their eyes interlocked as they silently counted the beats.
Eight bells. Ramson saw the realization bloom on Ana’s face. The Three Courts would have gathered, prepared to begin their negotiation with her.
