I hug them both, gratitude overwhelming me, as another volley of arrows launches over our heads in a whoosh. ‘Attach yourself to a crew. Caden’s organised everyone in groups. I will see you on the other side.’
Sember squeezes my shoulder, Heath nods solemnly and they’re off, rushing for the quay where they soon join a group ready to pick off the first men of the watch that reach the quay steps.
‘Mira!’ Agnes cries, and I look just in time before she flings herself at me.
I hug her back, sniffing and stifling a sob. Thank skies, thank the old gods, thank everything that she’s still in one piece. ‘You should be at the castle, Agnes. Our people, the wounded …’
She stands back from me, shaking her head fiercely, then pats her mother’s blade, strapped at her waist. ‘I was built for this, same as you. Same as all of us. Only the infirm and young are up there. Only the badly wounded. Rosevear is ready.Iam ready.’
I stare past her, seeing the many women in the streets, women from all the isles, clutching weapons, ready for the fight of their lives. Pride flares inside me, pride for them, for where I come from, for these people.Mypeople. Then I see Agnes’s father, a huge, gentle man, a baker, nodding to me, axe in his fists. Then more, my father’s set, the fisherfolk, mothers, grandmothers. We are all here. We stand as one.
Then I see Kai, their leader, their hope, and I draw in a deep, trembling breath. ‘Whatever happens next, know we are one,’ I say to them all. ‘One people. Proud of all we are. All we could still become. The watch is here to take our futures. We will not let them. We stand together.’
‘Together,’ Kai repeats.
‘Together,’ Eli says, smiling.
‘Together!’ everyone shouts, a single word filled with flame and thunder.
‘Together,’ I whisper, turning to the ships now flooding the harbour, the men disembarking to land.
Caden moves through the crowd, reminding everyone of their formations, their groups and crews, some drawing back to the streets and squares behind for the second and third wave. He rallies archers to fire more arrows as the witches’ cries of victory echo across the harbour, Hillary and her coven traversing in to stand on the quay. Pearl arrives with them, and she comes straight to Merryam, kissing her quickly before shifting on silent feet, like the ghost she is, ready to strike.
‘They won’t see her coming,’ Mer says, grinning.
‘They never do,’ Eli agrees.
The first of the watch reaches the shore and are cut down by islanders with blades in their fists and fire in their chests. I catch sight of Sember and Heath making fast work of three men, their bodies tumbling back into the sea. Hillary rallies Coven Septern and they form into threes, casting witch words over the ships in theharbour, fire instantly spreading over the decks. Then I tip my chin back to the sky. The clouds are a mottled patchwork of purple and deepest blue, spilling rain in thin sheets. Ready to be unleashed.
I was born for this.
To rake thunder from the clouds.
To be the storm that rights our world.
For a reckoning.
I throw my will into the swollen clouds, calling for lightning, for the sharp sting of retribution. And with a final look at the waiting ships, at my people’s faces shining with fierce hope, at the men of the watch aiming their rifles, shooting at the first wave of Eli’s crews … I know I can control it. I will direct the will of the storm with all my rage, but also my love.
I unleash.
Lightning cracks open the sky, casting Ennor in darkness and flashes. It strikes, hitting ship after ship, thunder booming and rolling, an ever-constant battle drum. I shove everything into it. Every piece of my pain, my heart, my soul and wish for the very world to tip over. I will it to be born anew. Then as the rain falls in a swift torrent, flooding the streets, flowing out in a river, forcing back the invaders, I breathe, leaving the storm to rumble on. To wipe the slate clean. I pull out my blade, bare my teeth and, with a cry of war, join Agnes in the fray.
The watch reaches the quay and Caden roars, surging forward, swinging with double swords at the very front. For a breathless heartbeat, I watch him in his truestform, a dancer with twin blades, effortlessly perfect in his execution. I realise how much he’s been holding back in my training. Then I catch a rifle aimed at Agnes and rush for it and the man aiming and firing, thrusting up my blade so he shoots at the sky. He swears viciously and I feint left but sweep my foot out. He stumbles over it, cracking his boot against my ankle and I hiss in pain before slipping my blade under his ribs. His breath leaves him in a gurgle as his rifle drops, blood already pooling on his tongue as he looks up at me. I pull out the blade, wipe it on his jacket and kick him over, already moving for the next.
A few get past, but Caden takes down more than the rest of us, those twin blades flying in a ceaseless arc. Then I look up, and find a rifle aimed at my chest. Time slows as the gunpowder bursts in a cloud, as a bullet leaps from the barrel. But there’s a flash of movement. Sember, with a wave of her hand, seems to … catch it. She grins at me, opening her fist and the bullet is a glittering, smoking coin. For a heartbeat I stare in wonder at the young woman before me. I realise then what she is – not a bodyguard for a spare heir, but a weapon. Skylan’s weapon.
Then she turns, her thin whip of a sword cutting across another man of the watch. His eyes bulge in surprise as blood pours from his throat, before he slumps to the ground. Dead.
Sember blows me a kiss, then vanishes back into the fight and I see her again beside Heath, further along thequay, fighting as though they are one blade, one person. Military training, indeed. They’re formidable.
I catch Eli out of the corner of my eye, pulling two men of the watch into shadow, their mouths open in a desperate howl. But I don’t see where the shadow spits them back out. I’m already swiping at a shoulder of another man of the watch, the sudden slash of pain snagging his focus before Agnes finishes him.
‘How many more?’ Agnes says, breathing fast as she pulls me close, rifle fire cracking past my cheekbone.
‘Too many to halt,’ I reply, this time pulling Agnes towards me as more rifle fire crackles around us. ‘They look like …’
‘Renshaw’s crew,’ Agnes hisses, features darkening with hate. ‘Her thugs.’
