The metal soldiers may not have their spears anymore, but that isn’t stopping them from fighting each other. Having somehowbroken free of their bindings, they use the chains formerly wrapped around their hands and feet as a means to choke one another. Some don’t have chains, but that doesn’t stop them from trying to rip off one another’s heads and limbs. None of the humans in the room make a move to intervene while the soldiers pummel a few of their kin into useless, dented scraps of iron.
Valoria watches with one hand over her mouth, the other flung out as a barrier between Jax and the soldiers, as if that could keep him from charging forward to aid in the soldiers’ self-destruction.
Lysander seems particularly terrified of the soldiers. It’s the first time I’ve seen him show fear at anything, and he’s fought Shades and gnawed on the bones of vicious rogue mages. He hides his bulk behind Meredy and me, keeping to the shadows as if he wants to be sure he can make a quick exit.
Neither Karston nor Hadrien—whichever has control of Karston’s body right now—is anywhere to be seen, and we just ran down the only staircase leading to the dungeons. Yet somehow, the soldiers continue to fight as we all look on, until ten of the iron figures are completely out of commission.
The rest toss their broken companions into a heap in a corner of their cell.
How they could be moving without the aid of Karston’s magic, I have no idea.
“I—I must be dreaming,” Valoria murmurs, apparently sharing my thoughts. “The soldiers—do they have minds of their own?” Her brow furrows. “I don’t understand. I took two of them apart and found nothing but the gears Noranna and I put there...”
“That’s because your weak Sight doesn’t let you see the spirits inside.” Hadrien’s voice issues from Karston’s mouth somewhere behind us.
There’s a clanking sound as the hundred or so remaining metal soldiers turn to face him as well, standing at attention as if awaiting orders. Whirling around, I watch Karston bound partway down the staircase. I draw my sword, not the least bit worried about the short sword in his hand, and start to rush toward him.
Hurrying after me, Meredy quickly grabs the back of my tunic, holding me in place as she whispers, “Remember, you said Karston might be in there, too!” That said, she releases me.
After all, I have no idea how Hadrien’s spirit got in there, but I’m willing to bet that putting a blade through Karston would force the mad king out. That’s how we cast spirits out of their bodies and send them back to the Deadlands.
“Oh, no,” Hadrien murmurs as I watch him warily for any sign of movement. I’ll fight to save Karston, but I’m not letting Hadrien leave my sights again. “I see a few of my subjects got cold feet and decided not to stand with me after all. Shame.” I follow his gaze to the handful of crumpled metal soldiers now piled in a corner of the dungeon, the ones that the larger group turned on. The spirits must still be trapped inside the mangled metal bodies, but now those few who might have been persuaded to help us will be of no use. Their bodies aren’t in any shape to fight, let alone stand.
“Subjects? Explain,” I demand, my heart thudding madly as I gesture to the metal soldiers standing at attention.
“Sparrow.” Hadrien’s gaze locks with mine. “Still alive, I see. Another shame.” He smiles, his eyes turning a darker shade of brown, shifting further away from violet. He’s taking over Karston more completely the longer his spirit is inside him. He looks to Valoria next. “And you, dear sister. You pathetic, wretched little thing. I used to think you had so much potential, yet here you are, letting an orphan from the Ashes fight your battles for you. But no matter,” headds cheerfully. “You’ll both be dead soon, anyway. You all will. Just like this silly boy whose body I took.”
That’s it. He may be wearing Karston’s face, but if Karston isn’t in there anymore, I’m going to beat Hadrien to within an inch of his life before I kill him for a second time. But what if Hadrien’s spirit just leaps into another body once Karston’s is dead? After all, we’re dealing with strange, unknown magic here. But I still have to try.
I charge forward, growling a challenge as Hadrien raises his weapon. He’s not fleeing up the stairs. Good. Time to remind him once again that I’m the better swordsperson. My blade sings as it clashes against his.
“Last time I fought you, you didn’t even bother picking up your sword.” I push against his weapon with all my strength, letting my anger at his casual mention of Karston’s death fuel my movements. Though I have far more training than him, Hadrien is a more formidable opponent in Karston’s muscular body. “Looks like you’re learning.”
Behind me come the sounds of Danial and the other guards moving closer, ready to assist me at a moment’s notice.
The metal soldiers, I see briefly out of the corner of my eye, watch us with their blank faces, seemingly awaiting Hadrien’s orders.
Suddenly, Hadrien’s eyes roll back in his head. He sinks onto the stairs, and I lower my sword, breathing hard.
“Odessa,” Karston grits out, sounding like he’s in pain. His eyes are pure violet again and wide with shock. “Your Majesty,” he adds to Valoria, trying to bow while slumped over and almost toppling off the stairs. “Please, forgive me. All I wanted to do was help Karthia.”
His eyes start to roll again. Keeping my blade safely out of his reach, I lean forward to grip his shoulder, giving him a sharp shake. We need to keep him talking while he’s still in there. We need answers.
“Stay with us, Karston,” I urge him. “It’s good to see you again.” I hope the warmth in my voice tells him that I mean it.
“Hadrien said there are spirits inside the soldiers,” Valoria says quickly, gesturing to the line of iron figures still standing at attention, still waiting for their master to command them. “How is that possible?”
Pain twists Karston’s handsome features. “I— It started when we went to look for Jax in the Deadlands,” he says quickly, as though he knows he’s running out of time. “Odessa and I got separated, and I met him. Hadrien. I didn’t know who he was—how would I recognize a prince I’d never seen? I’d never even been to Grenwyr City until the school opened, and besides, he used another name.” He gives a short, bitter laugh. “He asked me to come back to see him again. He said he’d keep me safe in the Deadlands—so I kept visiting. He was funny and kind, and he made me feel special. He understood me. And even though you all welcomed me into the pack, Hadrien made more time for me than anyone else. He’s—he was—a good friend, I thought.”
I dab my damp face with the bottom of my tunic and nod for him to continue as waves of nausea roll through me. The thought of someone feeling anything but revulsion toward Hadrien after what he did makes me sick, even if the mad king was hiding his true identity.
“He helped me figure out what my gift really is—raising the dead in a different way,” Karston says softly. “See, I can take spirits and carry them inside myself from the Deadlands to our world. I can put them in anything I choose,” he continues, a faint sheen of sweat coating his brow. “I told Hadrien about training with our volunteers, and how we didn’t stand a chance against a real army yet. So when Noranna started making those metal soldiers, Hadrien and I came up with a plan. He found me spirit volunteers who didn’t mind the idea of iron bodies, and I put them in the soldiers.”
“Did you ever see any frozen spirits while you were in the spirit world? Is that part of your magic, too?” I can’t help but ask, though it hardly matters now that all the danger is here, in our world.
Karston shakes his head, looking as confused as I feel when I think of the temporarily immobile spirits.
As we fall silent, Valoria steps forward, her gaze trained on Karston. She studies him for a moment before speaking.
