“Sweet of her.” Nova replied flatly, but she was quietly thrilled to have a place to start. No need to get into why for now. She turned to Orie. “Well, plenty in here for you to bludgeon people with if it comes to it. Wait here and stay out of sight. We’ll come back for you when it’s safe. I’ll knock next time.”
Nova placed herself on the other side of the door and sighed, fingers anxiously thrumming her staff. There was still the queen’s quarters to check, maybe the throne room. If Dahlia was still in control of the military by the time they ran out of the sea witch’s magic, the mission was lost.
An explosion shook the ground again, and Nova’s feet were moving before she’d willed them to. Finding Dahlia—or Yemaya, for that matter—came second to the duty she had to Cutter and the Gold Guard here in the palace. There would be fighting until there was no longer a need to. And she was here to fight.
• YEMI •
The palace gates were jarred open by a body. He was only half dead, propped against one door with the lock cast into the dirt beside him. His hand clawed uselessly at the dark painted dirt, mixing his blood into it like a paste. Yemaya noted that he’d likely dragged himself there, judging by the blood-smeared cobblestones leading to the palace entrance.
She knelt beside him, inhaling deeply and letting that familiar, intoxicating feeling wash over her. It made the stone in the pit of her stomach small again. She could hear his heart slowing, the thickness in his throat as he swallowed. Not a Nova kill. She’d have had the kindness in her to finish the job.
Yemaya caressed his face and the gash at his throat, then pulled away her thumb and licked the blood from it.
Fair to fine,she thought with something of a shrug. Not as fresh as it could have been, but that was hardly his fault.
Scattered gunfire popped in the distance more than the clash of metal. A group of people burst out of the administrative annex, ushered by Brother Lain in his moonlit whites. Innocents. They kept their footsteps light as they raced across the courtyard, presumably toward the relative safety of the garages or the infirmary down the hill. She got to her feet and pushed the gate aside, tipping over the dying soldier and drawing Brother Lain’s attention.
“Yemaya?” He squinted, letting the others run off without him.
She gave him a nod.
“Praise be!” He beamed, crossing the cobblestones to hold her about the shoulders and examine her. She wondered what he noticed, whether there was anything new on the surface of her that indicated she was…more.Better. And then his eyes drifted to the ghosts in her wake as they stepped into the courtyard. He froze. “Yemaya, what have you done?”
“I’ve come home.” She smiled coolly as he backed away.
“What you’ve done is… This is darkness!”
Yemi chuckled. “Oh, Lain, this is the holiest I have ever been.”
“This isnotwhat I meant whe—”
“You and your order wanted a god, but without blood. I’m sorry I could not be perfect for you. Where is the Harpy?”
“I won’t aid you in this. I can’t.”
Yemaya sighed, though not surprised. She tied on the mask Derring had brought her. Its metal interior was cool and inviting against her face in the way fated, powerful things tend to be. Even her subarmor had stopped its chafing.
She was the daughter of the Bulletproof Queen.
She passed him, stepping inside with mouth watering and pulse racing. The scents of sweat and fear and the sounds of panic tickled her and drew her back toward the interior.
A trio of palace guards came flying around the corner, carrying munitions for the turrets in dark metal boxes, only to stumble to a halt before her and drop them. They were waifish, with unfamiliar faces. Certainly part of Dahlia’s changing of the guard.
“Such a small welcoming party. Didn’t anyone tell you the queen was coming home?” Yemi grinned behind the mask. She engaged her spear, letting the orange glow make her threats for her. “Disarm and kneel.”
Her muscles twitched. They would have one chance. She hoped they would deny her.
No one moved immediately or exchanged so much as a nervous look. The palest of the three stood a bit to the rear between the other two. Yemi couldn’t see his hands, but the shine of his sweat and arefusal to blink gave him away. He had just enough time to pull a sidearm off his hip and raise it when Yemi launched her spear underhanded into his eye, sending the round fired off into the wall beside her. The other two flinched and took off back up the hallway.
“Don’t run,” she called, collecting her spear and proceeding to follow them. The hall was lined with armaments and crates being rifled through by soldiers who seemed unpleasantly surprised to see her as they raised their weapons to charge her. Cutting them down was effortless. Her father’s spear made every cut clean.
“Dahlia!” she called out. “Face me so I can stop slaughtering your minions.”
She passed another guard cowering between stacks of crates, kneeling with his hands up.
“I yield, My Light, please,” he said quickly, pulling his face away from the tip of her spear.
“We’ll see,” Yemi replied. “Where’s the Harpy?”
