Seth kneeled on Icelus’ wound, digging his knee into the gash under his ribs. The lord cried out, reaching for his dropped blade.
“Does it pain you?” Seth growled. “To be told you’re a god, only to meet such a pathetic end?”
Recognition flared in Icelus’ eyes: not for the prisoner from the Duat, but the exiled prince.
“Set,” he hissed.
A grin made of pure malice stretched across Seth’s face. “You remember what happened to Rameses. I’m going to do the same to you.”
Percy grabbed my arm. “We need to go!” He shouted.
Horses brayed as mounted soldiers pounded in our direction. Breathing heavily, Aethra tried to wrestle out of her bonds, but her hands shook violently. Taking over for me, Percy ripped them off with his pocket knife as Icelus screamed behind us.
Aethra threw herself at me, grabbing hold of my cloak. Wrapping my good arm around her, I helped her stand.
Bloody vines enveloped the square, creating thickets of dead roses, blocking the mounted soldiers from reaching us. Phaedrus returned to my side.
“We’re surrounded,” he breathed.
Furious, I shouted at Seth in my mind. “Seth!”
Yanking a bloody dagger from Icelus’ shoulder, Seth whirled around and noticed the dire straits we were in: every exit from the square held soldiers waiting to take our heads the moment they cut through Phaedrus’ writhing, scarlet vines.
Gritting his teeth, Seth grabbed Icelus’ collar and hauled him to his feet. “You’ll get to live a little longer. I’m not going to give you an easy death.” Raising his voice, he presented the bloody noble to the crowd. “Gods do bleed after all,” he shouted. “Tell your masters their time is up—I’ll be coming for them next.”
Seth tossed Icelus to the ground, and he fell in a bloody heap. A strange sound—like a quill scraping across paper—whispered beneath the braying horses and shouts.
That was Cerys’ magic. Had she followed us?
Percy pushed me toward the bright orange tarp of a building’s awning. A thin canvas hung from its door, painted with sketchy lines.
Aethra regained her senses, running with me toward Cerys’ portal. Phaedrus crashed into our backs, shoving us through as javelins whirled through the air, chasing us. I glanced back to see two knights a mere pace away before the canvas snapped closed, trapping us in Cerys’ realm.
Gasping, Aethra fell to her knees, breathing heavily. The fury washed from Seth’s face, and he dropped to her side. “Are you alright?” He asked, gently cupping her cheek.
“You came,” she said shakily.
“Of course I did,” Seth breathed.
Catching my breath, I looked around. Most of the world was white, unpainted parchment. A few sketch lines drew a path from us to another door. Disoriented, I tried to look at the people around me instead.
“Well,” Phaedrus panted. “That went about as poorly as it could have.”
“Whathappened?” Percy demanded.
Snarling, Seth’s head snapped up. “What were you thinking, bringing her near him?”
“She isn’t a child,” Phaedrus snapped back. “Would you have stopped her from saving the life she did?”
Seth looked at Aethra, waiting for an explanation.
“I’m fine,” Aethra said, finding her feet. “But you should have stopped me,” she said, meeting Phaedrus’ eye.
“No,” he disagreed. “You were right. The old me . . .”
He trailed off, but the emotions passing between them filled in the blanks.
Phaedrus had wanted her to run. Aethra hadn’t. Someone still breathed because of her choices.
