He looked forward, and Linn recognized the emotion dancing across his face with the torchlight.
It was hope.
Ramson scrambled to his knees and lunged forward. For a moment, he thought he might actually reach the brass lever; it gleamed in the torchlight as he arced through the air, his arm stretched as far as he could—
He saw movement at the corner of his eye. There was a whizzing sound and he could only watch, as though time had slowed, as a metal blade lodged in his right wrist.
Blood spurted, and a moment later, pain exploded.
Ramson’s hand fell on the lever, limp, the tendons in his wrist sliced neatly through.
He scrambled, reaching with his left hand, but something rammed into his back, slamming him onto the floor, knocking the air from his lungs. He thought he heard one of his ribs snap.
“You’reweak,” Sorsha hissed in his ear. She grabbed his right arm and pushed the blade in deeper. Stars burst in Ramson’s vision; his head grew fuzzy with pain as the tip of Sorsha’s blade protruded through the other side of his wrist. Blood dripped, hot and thick, down his arm. “For years, I’ve lived in the unworthy shadow of you and your like. Our father used my body as an experiment. So I killed him.” Sorsha tilted her chin back, her eyes catching the bloodred glow of the torch, and Ramson wondered whether she had completely tipped into madness. “I willdestroyall of you.”
“Enough,” Kerlan called. “Sorsha, bring him over. I’m going to kill him with my bare hands once I finish with the King.” He bared his teeth at Ramson in a smile. “Third time’s the charm, right, my son?”
Ramson had escaped death twice at Kerlan’s hands.
He suspected Kerlan would not let it happen again.
Sorsha yanked Ramson up by his arm and jabbed a dagger into his side. “Move,” she growled.
Ramson’s head swam. His right arm alternated between searing pain and hot numbness.Ana,he thought, doing a quick search of the hall as he limped forward. It swam before his sight, but beyond the sea of courtiers, he could barely see the door, let alone whether she was still there.Stay where you are,he wanted to tell her.Whatever you do, don’t be stupid. Don’t be the heroine. Don’t do anything rash.
He could only pray to the Three Gods, at this point, that she would remember her promise to ring the bells.
“It’s time,” Kerlan declared, and snapped his fingers at Nita. “Bring in the King.”
There was a brief silence as Nita leaned in to whisper to him, and Ramson looked up to see displeasure spreading on Kerlan’s face. As Sorsha shoved Ramson toward the front of the rows of courtiers, he caught snatches of their conversation.
“What do you mean,” Kerlan hissed, “you don’t know where he is?”
A small spark of hope flickered in Ramson’s chest. It lasted only a brief second, before he felt Sorsha’s boot in his back. Ramson’s breath left him as he slammed against the foot of the dais. Pain exploded over his injured right wrist.
A shadow fell over him.
“My dearest guests!” Kerlan spread his hands in a benevolent gesture, his rings flashing as he descended the dais. “It seems there has been a delay on my end. I apologize for the confusion.” He flicked a glance at Ramson, and it promised retribution. “So, first, a little demonstration of what happens to traitors of this new regime.”
The first blow sent his head cracking against the floor. The world went dark for a moment. When he resurfaced, he found himself gazing into the cold, ruthless eyes of Alaric Kerlan.
His old master was saying something, but it didn’t matter anymore. Ramson’s thoughts were scattering as he coughed up blood. For some reason, his eyes wouldn’t focus on Kerlan’s face in front of him. Instead, all that Ramson saw were the strangely bright metal rims of the bells of Godhallem looming overhead, blurring in and out of focus.
Suddenly, they began to move.
And the hall of Godhallem filled with the low, somber calls of its War Bells, echoing far and deep into the night.
Ana gripped the lever and straightened. Overhead, the bells sounded, their sonorous tones filling the entirety of Godhallem and reverberating within the searock walls. She spread her Affinity, the heat of the freshly spilled blood within these halls stirring nausea at the pit of her stomach.
It had taken every ounce of her self-control to hold back her Affinity when Sorsha had cut Ramson with her dagger, when Kerlan had slammed his head to the rock so hard that she heard the crack across the hall.
He’d made her promise to ensure that the bells rang, and Ana intended to keep her promise.
But now, looking at him lying on the floor, his hand in a pool of blood puddled beneath him, fury closed in around her.
“Let him go,” she snarled, reaching for Kerlan with her Affinity.
A woman stepped in front of him. Ana recognized her as his Deputy. She raised her hands, hair flashing dark with a sheen of blue, and Ana reached for her blood—
