“Go,” he mouths, and then he’s gone.
My body snaps back into action, feet finally carrying me out the back door. I crouch down in the shadows where the others are waiting for me, giving Heron a small nod to let him know I’m okay.
I’m not okay. But he doesn’t need to know that.
“I’m sorry, Starling, but I have nothing else,” he says, gently taking my wrist and drawing the mark for concealment on my skin with hisown blood. I sense the moment the magic settles over me, a feeling like silky threads of cobwebs draping over my head as I disappear. He turns to Nyssa and repeats the mark, and as she fades, I watch in silent horror as streaks of gray appear at Heron’s temples.
The magic taking what it is owed.
He releases a shuddering breath before drawing his own, vanishing just as we did. “They won’t be able to see us, but we’ll have to move quietly.” I wince at the strangeness of his disembodied voice. “Don’t smudge the mark. Now move.”
I stand and creep across the clearing, watching for the impressions of other feet in the grass. A chorus of muffled shouts reaches us from the other side of the cottage. We need to make it into the trees—it’s not only our lives that are at stake here, but our kingdom as well.
We’ve almost made it when a bloodcurdling scream pierces the night, cutting through the clash of steel on steel.
My blood chills.
But I hold myself back from charging forward. My whole body is trembling from restraint by the time we step into the shadows of the trees. Energy rushes through my veins, pumping through my body with each pounding beat of my heart.
“Get to the other side,” Heron’s disembodied voice whispers beside me. “Keep the concealment on, but stick to the trees.”
The crunch of fallen leaves beneath our feet fades into the metallic shriek of blades as we move silently through the tree line of the clearing, circling around to position ourselves behind the attackers targeting our Flight. When we’re in position, I choke on the overwhelming smell of blood. The metallic tang fills the air, drenching the grass. Bodies lie on the ground, unmoving, but relief hits me when I see our Flight still standing, facing off against the remaining soldiers.
I watch as three of them corner Raven, and my earlier dread is burned away by the fury that takes its place. Wasting no more time, we fly out from the safety of the trees. I head straight for the soldiers trying to box Raven in.
I don’t hesitate as I lift my dagger and sink it into the first soldier’s throat. It slices through muscle and arteries, spraying my face withwarm blood. I pull the blade free, and the man falls; his lifeless eyes stare unseeing toward the stars.
Another soldier swears, whirling when he sees his comrade crumple to the ground. He looks up and…stares straight at me.
Fuck.
I glance down at my arm, silently cursing myself. ThegoiteíaHeron drew is no more than a smear of blood now, mingling with that of the dead soldier.
The other man advances, raising his sword.
The moonlight reflects off his blade, and time seems to slow. I feint right and he follows, then I slip under his guard, punching my dagger into his stomach. He lurches back and stumbles, one hand pressed to his stomach to stanch the bleeding as he slumps against the side of the homestead.
The soldier looks up at me, eyes wide with terror. “Please—”
I leap at him, slamming my dagger into his chest. It doesn’t go all the way, and I snarl as the blade gets stuck. I throw my weight against the dagger, forcing it through to his heart.
My stomach clenches as the light fades from his eyes. Not from my actions, but from the fact that they don’t sicken me. I should feel horror, guilt—something. But all I feel is a dark, twisted satisfaction deep within my soul, urging on a need to take vengeance for what I endured. The blood on my hands feels like justice, and that thought terrifies me. Is this who I am now? Someone who finds solace in violence? Or is it just the only way I know to fight back?
“Starling!”
The shout cuts above the sounds of clashing steel, wrenching my body around. I roll out of the way as a sword slashes through the space I was in a moment ago. I wrinkle my nose as the new soldier’s sword pierces the corpse of his fallen comrade. But I’m on my feet with my next breath, backing up as the man snarls and wrenches his weapon free.
My eyes dart toward the body, my dagger still embedded in the man’s chest.
The other soldier follows my line of sight and smirks, his expressiondripping with cruel triumph. His armor bears the crest of Eretria, a twisted oak tree glinting in the moonlight. “I think I’ll take you back to the court, Princess,” he sneers. “I may even get a promotion. Maybe my prince will be so grateful, he’ll let me take a turn with you as well.”
“No.” The word escapes me on a terrified gasp, and a malicious smile cuts across his face as he steps toward me.
I will not go back there.
The thought burns through me, fierce and unrelenting, drowning out the fear clawing at my chest. My hand trembles as I reach for the ring, the cool metal biting into my skin. I hesitate, the weight of what I’m about to do pressing down on me. But then I see his face—the soldier’s cruel smirk, the promise of what awaits me if I’m captured—and my resolve hardens. I slip the ring off my finger and let it fall, the sound of it hitting the ground swallowed by the night.
And the world holds its breath.
