“It’s Braxion and his squadron,” Race confirmed.
A heartbeat later, flames rained from the skies. The palace gates erupted in fire, and she shuddered. Race’s arms came around her, his heat searing through the cold. “That’s our cue.”
Her stomach churned. Time to enter the demon’s lair.
Swallowing hard, Ash turned to him and frowned. His hair gleamed like moonlight in the dark?—
“Wait.” She tugged off her black beanie and pulled it low over his head, hiding the telltale gleam of silver. “There. At least now you won’t glow like a bloody lantern.”
His brows arched, and he pressed his lips together, dangerously close to a smile. “Good cover.”
“Practical,” she shot back. “Less like royalty and more like a bloke I could take to a pub now.”
Soft laughter. “I’ll take you up on that when this is over. Just stay safe for me, heart-fire.”
“Ditto,” she managed, smiling despite the dread creeping through her.
His arms wrapped around her, and the world blurred into heat and shadow as he dematerialized them straight through the ether.
Thunder rumbled across the sky, and her heart raced with equal parts terror and fierce determination. They might all die before the day was over, but bloody hell, if they wouldn’t make Malcarion regret every moment until then.
Race reformed them in a shadowed ravine at the city’s edge, where stone yawned into the mountain and where the rest of his team, whom he’d already dematerialized, awaited him.
Brambles nearly swallowed the aqueduct’s entrance, hiding it from view, and the air stank of moss and rust, centuries of decay oozing from within.
He tilted his head, his gaze cutting to the storm above. Ripples of lightning flickered through the veil of dark clouds Ash had summoned, illuminating the jagged skyline for heartbeats at a time.
The cloud bank held steady—unnaturally still, ominous, like a storm waiting to choose a side.
His mouth tightened.Not this time.
Muffled thunder rolled across the peaks. Then came the boom of wings and fire, faint but distinct.
The Resistance’s squadrons continued their strike. With the battle fully underway, the sounds made the tunnel ahead seem even more like a waiting grave.
His jaw tightened.
“Cover’s holding,” Attor murmured, his charcoal clothes nearly invisible against the stone, his sword sheathed on his back.
“Not for long.” Race’s hand flexed on the dagger sheathed at his hip. “We move fast. No hesitation.”
Rhaedra lingered at the edge of the ravine, scanning sky and stone. Skaldr and Koal assumed their position at the rear, their swords braced.
“All right.” With a quick sweep, Race took in the group, pausing on Skaldr, who returned the look without a flicker—once his best friend, now a gamble. “Once we’re inside, we don’t falter.”
His gaze found Ash last. Even here, surrounded by stone and ghosts, the strength in her eyes held him steady, and his caged rage eased, just a little.
“Let’s end this. Ash, on me. Koal, stay on her. Skaldr, Rhaedra, watch the vents and slits. Attor, rear. Let’s move.”
Without another word, he crouched and tore the corroded grate loose. Metal screamed faintly before snapping free. Beneath the lichen and grime, the tunnel’s mouth gaped open—a wound carved deep into the mountain. Cold air poured out, damp and stale, whispering of forgotten memories.
He slipped into the narrow aqueduct first, his shoulders brushing damp walls, and his boots splashing through the shallow trickle.
The walls closed in, heavy and suffocating, hauling him back to Tartarus all over again. The weight of chains. The crush of endless stone. Bloodlust surged, vengeance boiling like a geyser. He wanted to burn down the fucking place. Kill them all?—
You have to calm down!Ash’s panic bled into his mind.
Teeth gritted, the urge to shut down their mind-link surged, to do what he longed for, just kill. But without Ash,hewas chaos and could ruin everything.
