Now, Duskae. Or we won’t make it out. Finish her.I command down the tether, firmer this time.
Hot, sharp fury floods the tether.
Vessira drops to her knees, already beaten by the cuts that mar her body. Blood drenches her clothes, and defeat lines her face.
“You don’t deserve such an easy death,” Elyssara snarls through the tears that flood her face now.
“I’m sorry, Elyssara. I did what I had to do,” Vessira whimpers, resignation evident.
“And now, so must I,” Elyssara says in a garbled mess of emotion and defiance, and then she swings my god metal sword in a deathly arc, and severs Vessira’s head from her body.
A strangled sound tears from her chest—half-sob, half-battle cry—as the head tumbles across the blood-slick stones. But I have no time to comfort her in my arms.
She can’t hurt you anymore, El. We’re going now.I soothe down the tether—the best I can offer.
Just because she’s dead doesn’t mean she can’t hurt me.
I don’t know what her words mean, but I know that whatever she endured will not be forgotten. But I can’t dwell on it here—I need to get her to safety.
“Now!” I bellow in command to our unit, and they break free of their positions and run like duskprowlers to the front gate, limping, battered, bruised, but alive.
We round the castle, racing time itself to make it to the front gate, Marked soldiers chasing in earnest.
I know, when I hear arrows drawn from quivers and set ablaze atop Kryntar Castle, that we are but a few heartbeats too late.
They flare against the blanket of night sky, and dread pools in my stomach.
Because that’s when the night splits with a scream that rattles the Stars themselves.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ELYSSARA
The world fracturesin the space of a heartbeat.
The air holds its breath with me.
I stumble to a halt on the causeway, bare feet scuffing along rough stone. My eyes whip to the battlements where Correk moves from archer to archer, drawing a blade across their throats as they train their arrows on us, unaware of the fox in their henhouse. His shield winks in the moonlight, and I know he’s been waiting for this moment.
I hear whispers from the others—something aboutThe Shield’s Apprentice, but I’m too stunned to decipher what it means. Because that’s when I see him?—
“Ronyn!” My scream tears out of me, throat splitting, as he drops to his knees.
His bow clatters from his hand, forgotten, a hollow sound against the stone. His chest—gods, his chest—is slick with blood, dark and endless.
The Marked soldiers descend upon us, only a dozen or so left now, surrounding us like duskprowlers, maws practically dripping in bloodlust. But I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take any of it.
I look for Jax in the chaos of the causeway. “Take from me, Jax. Drain me dry. Use every shred of magic I have left. Just get them off us—whatever it takes,” I choke out, my voice cracking.
I see Kael about to protest, but Jax doesn’t wait. She drags on my magic, and pulls it to her fingertips, staring down the Marked. Starlight flares—crackling, blinding—cleaving through the night air.Mine—vengeful, untamed, destructive.
“You have ten heartbeats to leave before I drench the castle in magic of the Lightborne! You know who I am—you knowwhatI am. The last living Luminaar. This will be the only mercy I offer,” she projects. Within a single heartbeat, the soldiers turn and run.
But I don’t care.
Because…Ronyn.
I stumble to him, hands shaking, useless, trying to press around the arrow that’s lodged in his chest—shot clean through. I add pressure against the wound, trying to hold him here, trying to keep him tethered to me. “No, no, no, stay with me, you stubborn bastard?—”
