The roots slow their progress, twisting in on themselves. ‘You,’ Fox chokes, his hands scrabbling at the tightening chain. ‘You killed my sister –’
‘I did.’ King Balen brings his foot down on a now-immobilized root, causing the wood to splinter and snap through the thick silence. ‘A necessary sacrifice, I’m afraid, given the prophesy. But that’s a story for another time, for I believe there is yet another prize in our midst. And I think I know exactly who wields it.’ The king’s black eyes glitter. ‘Isn’t that right, little dove?’
My heart seems to judder to a halt.
The next moment I’m lifted into the air by a powerful gust of wind. I dangle, suspended in place, struggling desperately as King Balen advances towards me. Gritting my teeth, I send a blast of ice straight at his face, but he deflects it.
Suddenly the room is filled with blinding light. Hal is on his feet, arms raised. He stares from Fox, to me, to his uncle, as if unsure who to attack and who to defend.
The king’s change in focus appears to be enough for the onlookers to regain their voices.
I watch as Grandmother pushes through the team of physicians, a ball of flame growing in her palm and reflected in her eyes. When she speaks, her voice burns with death-like rage. ‘Stayawayfrom my granddaughter.’
River tears his gaze from a fading Queen Hydra and moves to stand beside her. I hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps coming from outside the Choosing Chamber, but King Balen points lazily at the doors, which slam shut. There are several terrified shrieks. Kestrel Calloway is still sobbing uncontrollably upon the emperor’s chest.
‘Oh,enoughalready,’ says King Balen with a sigh. ‘I can barely hear myself think.’ He raises a hand and almost everyone in the room is lifted a few feet into the air then hurled against the walls. Hal’s crown is thrown from his head and rolls across the ground.
Silence descends once more.
‘There,’ King Balen says happily. ‘Much better, don’t you think, Lady Harglade? And please allow me to be the first to offer my condolences on the death of Queen Yvainne. That’s two daughters you’ve lost now. That must require some carelessness.’
The sound that rips itself from Grandmother’s mouth is one of pure fury – a battle cry. Her ruby-encrusted stick falls to the ground. She plants her feet, squares her shoulders, and for a moment I don’t see an old woman, stooped with age and grief, but Leda Flameslinger.
Descendant of the Fire Goddess, Vesta. Head of House Harglade.
Awarrior.
She begins to launch flame after flame at King Balen, while River follows suit with shards of ice and boiling jets. My eyes widen as I take in the two of them, fire and water, fighting together in tandem. It’s instinctive, the way they move. Like a dance, rhythmic and fluid, one they seem to have learned the steps to a long time ago. Twice King Balen is almost knocked off his feet. Yet already I can see Grandmother and River beginning to tire as age catches up with them, while the Ventalla King holds fast, countering each attack.
‘Grandmother!’ I shriek as she stumbles, but River is there to steady her.
That’s when King Balen sweeps his arms forward, sending a violent squall in their direction, which blasts them backwards as if they were no more than the feathers adorning his gleaming golden crown.
I scream as Grandmother and River collide with one of the golden doors and slump in a heap next to Hal and the Supreme Mother, who lies with her neck bent at an odd angle.
King Balen beams up at me. ‘Now, where were we?’
At that moment there’s a clattering sound behind him.
Fox is panting, his broken chain dangling from one hand while Sifa’s Eye skitters across the pedestal, causing King Balen to hesitate just long enough for the vines snaking round Fox’s wrists to launch themselves at him, wrapping round his ankles and sending him crashing to the ground.
As the king is brought down, his command over my invisible tethers loosens and I feel myself falling through the air. I cry out, bracing for impact.
But Fox gets there just in time, catching me in his arms.
His jaw is clenched and he sets me down, eyes blazing. I hold on to his gaze for one fleeting moment before turning and racing towards Grandmother. But before I can reach her, the air around me thins.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe, and nor, it appears, can Fox.
King Balen, now back on his feet, stoops down and picks up Sifa’s Eye from where it rests a few paces away from the emperor’s cooling body. Fox falls to the floor, gasping, clutching at his throat just like Freya had in his vision. I watch as he mouths one single word.
Run.
But I don’t. I stagger forward, sending a weak wave towards King Balen. He deflects it with an amused chuckle, causing the water to slosh over the floor next to where Queen Hydra lies, the life draining out of her. I try again, but already I can feel myself becoming light-headed. Dark spots crowd my vision and I collapse to my knees.
‘Finally,’ says King Balen. ‘Some manners.’
