I release Seren’s throat and fall back.
The anger in her eyes is hot enough to burn a hole through me, but even she can’t fight against my magic. She’s bound to follow my every command now.
“It’s fine, Morgan,” Seren says tensely. “I have this under control. All of you can leave now.”
A look of utter confusion ripples across Morgan’s face, and her hands tighten around the iron. “What are you talking about? We need to secure the scrolls. And the harp.” Her gaze shifts to me as it narrows considerably. “What have you done to her?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I say with a shrug.
“You’ve done something to her.” She advances on me but not before signalling to the others. “Don’t listen to the High Swynwraig. She’s a revenant.”
I press my lips together. Well, fuck. “Seren, you will fight to protect every rebel in this room from anyone who might cause them harm.”
“I told Lowri we should have kept you secured in the dungeons,” Seren growls, “but no, she wanted to make you her little pet. Thought she could break you in. Turns out some pets still bite the hand that feeds them.”
Those are the last words I hear before chaos erupts all around me.
The Rhyfelwyr spill through the chamber, filling the space between the rebels. Morgan’s sword arcs through the air toward Rhian. The Penderyn gets her own blade up just in time, the impact of steel-on-steel shuddering through her body.
Two more spring toward the harp. Brioc drops the scrolls, draws his sword, and drives it into the nearest one’s shoulder. The guard roars in agony. Gethin abandons the harp. They twomove in sync, battling the enemy, moving as one, like they’ve trained for this a hundred times.
“Your precious King of Winter is helpless against this.” Seren’s fingers dig into my shoulder again as she hisses into my ear. “Not unless he wants to risk killing all your friends.”
I spot him through the chaos, locked in battle with Morgan now while Rhian has shifted to face another. His movements are brutal and efficient, his blows hard enough to keep her stumbling back, but one blast of ice would take all seven enemies down.
But I can’t help but see how right Seren is. The room is a blur of chaotic motion with everyone packed in close.Tooclose. If he made even the smallest mistake with his magic, everyone here would end up frozen.
I whirl toward her.
“I told you to protect the rebels,” I spit out. “That was a command, Seren. Do it now. Help Brioc and Gethin.”
She hisses through her teeth but releases her tight grip all the same. With a feral scream, she draws her dagger and launches toward the Rhyfelwyr nearest the harp.
Just as a blade drives through Arianell’s gut.
I feel the impact through my own heart.
Time seems to hold its breath, then it surges forward all at once. Arianell goes limp, the spark in her eyes blinking out. The Rhyfelwr shoves her away from him. She crashes into the wall, where she goes down hard, blood-stained charts floating down on top of her.
For one single horrifying moment, I can’t breathe.Not Arianell.
And then I’m already across the room before I even know I’ve moved. I rip the dagger from my waistband, tucked there but never used, and slash his throat.
It isn’t enough.
I rise up behind another. “Marwolaeth.” And then another, my ruthless fury unfettered now. “Marwolaeth.”
When the third drops, I notice the silence and take in the sudden stillness. Seren, Brioc, and Gethin have won against their two, breathing heavily but unwounded. Taliesin and Rhian stand over their fallen enemies. Blood covers their hands, but it’s not theirs. Somehow, we’ve…won.
But there’s a buzzing in my ears that won’t yield. This doesn’t feel over. Nowhere near it yet.
My eyes briefly meet Taliesin’s before I take command.
“We need to complete the ceremony before reinforcements arrive,” I say, pacing to the harp. “With Seren being here, more will come.”
Pale-faced, Gethin resumes his position by the instrument. Brioc quietly gathers the scrolls from the ground. No one else speaks.
I move to Seren. “Lie on the floor.”
