“We can’t fight her and these soldiers at the same time,” Kaid hollered. “We need to clear the field.”
Aerik grunted as he heaved a brawny finfolk off himself. “I’m open to any suggestions on how to do that!”
Asta started digging through her bag, then pulled out the comb and mirror. “This is war. No one comes out with their hands clean. Protect your people.”
If he’d had any question regarding using the comb and mirror before, they vanished. Asta was right. Kaid had a duty to withhold.
Kaid took the artifacts and felt them warm in his hands, his siren form taking over as he sang a song of undeniable command, promises of violence, and clarity of intent. A large portion of the finfolk surrounding them ceased fighting, dropping their weapons, and those who did not slit their own throats. Though the comb and mirror could not control the whole battlefield, they had cleared the diameter surrounding the royal family.
Queen Yrsa broke through the clean line where the comb and mirror’s reach ended, a wicked grin revealing her mouthful of fangs. Arielle pushed between Kaid and Aerik, meeting the sea witch halfway.
Chapter 59
Asta watched in horror as Arielle grabbed the sea witch by the wrist and used the trident to propel them to a tower on the castle. As angry as Asta was that Arielle chose to isolate the dangerous fight, she could not truly be upset, as it was exactly what she would have done.
The advantage of being a siren any other time was that they could simply swim up to the tower, but with the turbulent currents, water funnels, and rows of archers releasing arrows tipped with cerith shells toward anyone who appears above the battleground, simply swimming up to the tower was unachievable.
Flashes of gold and blue light came from the top of the tower where the queens fought and Asta knew she needed to get up there to help. They all did.
Soren broke from the lines of finfolk warriors closing in, filling the gap from where the comb and mirror had cleared the field. “I’ve got your back! Go!”
Asta did not waste time. She grabbed Kaid’s wrist, the siren prince shouting to his father to follow, and they made a dash for the castle. Soren swam backward and fought off anyone coming for them. It wasn’t long before Revna found them, joining Soren to hold back the enemy.
When they got inside, they found another battle happening within. Asta hadn’t even noticed that the battle had infiltrated the castle walls.
The approaching finfolk bottlenecked at the castle doorway but fanned out as soon as they entered. Asta stopped to slash her sword at a few of them who had slipped past Soren and Revna.
“Can you use the comb and mirror again?” Asta asked Kaid while he helped fight off the beasts.
He shook his head. “I think the repercussion of the magic is that you can only use it once and then have to wait a bit. Now that I let go of them, I lost my chance.”
“Asta! Behind!”
Asta turned in time to find that Soren was the one who shouted to her, but it was too late. He dove in front of her, the spear aimed for her heart claiming his instead.
Soren slowly fell to the iridescent floor, blood pouring from his wound around the spearhead.
“No!” Asta screamed. She threw her short sword, the weapon cutting through the water so quickly that it was a silver flash, before it embedded itself into the spear-thrower’s skull.
She got down to Soren’s level and ran her fingers over his scarred face and he smiled at her. “Listen to me, before I run out of time.”
“You’renotrunning out of time, Soren. Hold on until the mender can help.”
“Ever the dreamer, like me,” Soren laughed. “I know you’re going to be the siren queen someday, but don’t forget your human side like I did. And one more thing…”
Asta held back a sob as she squeezed his hand. “Anything.”
“Tell my story someday.”
And then, Soren’s grip loosened, his eyes no longer searching Asta’s face but looking through it. He was gone.
She would tell his story, always. She would tell the story of the male whose life was taken from him before it began, who rose from the ashes and made a name for himself, who taught those around him to be compassionate and caring, who taught her that not everyone’s journey took the same route, who loved telling tales and painting pictures with words. Soren would live on through Asta.
A gentle hand landed on Asta’s shoulder. “We have to go,” Kaid whispered.
The sounds of their surroundings rushed back into Asta and she was once again back on the battlefield, leaving her friend behind.
Maren and Svanhild were waiting at the mouth of the ramp to the tower and Asta hesitated. “Follow us!” Maren shouted over the chaos. Her sister then turned and started making her way up the ramp.
