“You want us to go out there weaponless?”
His jaw clenched, swallowing what he wanted to say, and I had a feeling that if I’d been anyone else, he would’ve reminded them that what hewantedwas for us to be anywhere but here. “Not weaponless,” he offered. “I have full access to my powers, so I don’t need my swords. Sidrick and Artton can draw them if needed.”
My eyes naturally darted to the hilts that stood taller than his wide shoulders on either side.
The intensity of his eyes pinned me. “As for you, you have the spark. Don’t hesitate to use it if you need.” Reaching around himself, he pulled out a dagger—though it wasn’t meant for throwing. It was barely the size of his thumb, and served one purpose: stabbing in a pinch. “May I?” he asked, indicating the sternum of my leathers.
“Umm…”
“I had Caius build in a hidden compartment to hold a blade,” he explained.
Now knowing it was there, it still took me a moment to see where the blue scales of the leathers misaligned a fraction. I nodded, not taking my eyes off that spot.
“Use it only as a last resort.” Endymion’s deft hands made quick work of it, sliding the blade just under my left breast, dangerouslyclose to my heart—which made sense as I was right-handed. I was surprised that I couldn’t feel it and wondered if there was a built-in sheath.
I shifted my focus to find Artton and Sidrick holding out their arms, wrist together. I frowned as Endymion swiped his hand over their offering and glowing amber hues came to life in the form of wrist restraints.
I stepped back.
“No,” I found myself saying, stepping back farther.
“Spark,” Artton said, drawing my attention. “They’re fake.” In demonstration, he closed his fists and jerked them outward. Instantly, the magical bands snapped into countless embers that dimmed as they fell to the ground.
My gaze snapped to Sidrick, who gave me a reassuring smile. “We need to look the part.”
Every fiber of my being hated the idea of it, but they were right. Even still, I made Artton go again before, I reluctantly drew my wrists together. Endymion stepped up to me and touched my wrist with a feather-light touch as he held my gaze. His dark features lit as his magic flared to life, as it danced across my writs. “There,” he said, gently. “Not so bad.”
“Not so bad,” I agreed.
He offered me a soft smile and then stepped back, sliding into his role once again. “We have to hurry. I had the soldiers guarding the entrance clear a path for us through the palace. We’ll most likely hit resistance after we leave the building, but the moment we’re off the palace grounds, we can valen.”
Artton slid in front of me while Sidrick took up the rear, and I cast a glance over my shoulder at the white bandolier given to me by the male that led us—my heart already aching from its loss.
“Wait,” I said, my stomach dropping as I finally registered what he’d said about our exit strategy. “What if their powers don’t return by then, Endymion? You can only valen two of us out.”
“I find another way home,” Sidrick said frombehind me.
I whipped around, stopping us dead in our tracks. “Excuse me?”
“He’s right, Spark.”
“No!” My voice echoed through the long tunnel.
Endymion stepped past Artton, coming so close that I had to tilt my chin up to hold his gaze. “Little Star,” he said, voice tender, “your ability to love and care for those around you—your humanity—is one of the things I treasure most about you. But I need you to understand that the only way any of us is getting out of here alive is if we’re militant about it. It’s not fair. It’s not even just. Survival rarely is. I’ve known Sidrick and his family for nearly two centuries now, and it would kill me to leave him, but he’s the lower-ranking officer to Artton, and there’s absolutely no question that you will be the other one I take.” He caressed the side of my face, eyes pooling with emotion. “I know what I’m about to ask of you is unfair, but I need you to tuck aside your compassion and show up like the spark. The one that decimated Wymond’s Shadow Hounds. Can you do that? For me?”
Gods, this was impossible. And in that moment, I realized it wasn’t just him I’d anchored to. It was all of them, though in different ways.
“I hate this,” I whispered, giving in to his request.
Sliding his thumb down my cheek, he gave me a sad smile. “Me too.”
We fell into a taut silence after that.
As promised, the exit was clear. Endymion didn’t falter as he stepped out of the tunnel, and I breathed a little easier when I saw nature—even if the rain pelting the windows was eerily multiplied as it echoed through the empty hall.
It was daytime, though with the storm mirroring Myron’s emotions made discerning time difficult.
We turned left. Then right. Then descended down a winding set of stairs into another corridor lit by orbs. Down here the clipped sounds of our footfalls bounced freely off of the walls, unencumbered by the rain this far underground.
