A sudden blow of wind makes me stumble into the wall. Two more guards are on Will and he ducks, a sword grazing the very tip of his curls. The chairs between us are fallen gravestones, a ghostly white destruction. He checks on me and it costs him.
A blade slices a gash down his sleeve and blood pools forth.
No!
I forget the Feiyan. I can’t get to it anyway. I sprint back to Will, who cradles his limp forearm to his chest. He jerks back, dodging another strike, and whips a golden shield in place.
“Encho kaveh,” I say, and catch the gentle pink eglantine that appears. It fills the air with a sweetness like apples and fresh rain on stone, a concoction of healing. I press the flower to Will’s arm and the wound knits together, easing the clench of his jaw for the time being. The flower disintegrates like the dust of the damaged ceiling.
“No good?” Will asks through gritted teeth.
“They’re protected.”
He nods and concentrates on the shield. Some guards groan, winded on the floor of the aisle, but two are still on their feet and there’s only a matter of time until Will is too exhausted to cast anything.
On the stage, the king has an arm around Merit’s shoulders. He doesn’t seem to have much strength left, but what little he does, he’s using to protect his son. Bash kneels over Card still, leaving the center stage free for Morgana and Fern. Morgana rubs Fern’s arms soothingly as the queen wrings her hands.
“This wasn’t the plan,” the queen mumbles. “It’s all gone wrong.”
“What plan?” Bastion asks. “Mother. Tell me what’s going on.Now.”
“It’ll be okay, Fernie. We can work around it,” Morgana replies, a surprising pinch of concern on her sharp face. She shoots her head toward the guards. “Why haven’t you killed them yet?”
“Mother!” Bastion shouts.
Over the noise, a small whine of pain escapes Will, like a cat with a thorn in its paw. A thin red trickle seeps down the arm of his jacket. And his shield spell shudders.
The guard blocking our path lifts his sword.
For a fraction of a second, I believe that we’re dead. Will’s dead and I’m back in the physician’s room, tossing in agony and bleeding out. Instead, an arrow whizzes past my ear and pierces the shoulder of the guard’s armor, sending him crashing to the floor.
“I saidnonlethal,” Lark scolds from behind.
I whirl around.
From the open doors, Pigeon lowers her bow and grins in apology. Lark stands beside her in a dark suit, weaponless, a look on his face like he’s fighting regret. Ava and Nettle appear too, sword and knife in hand and just as dirty as we left them.
“Why on earth would you give that back to her?” Nettle snaps.
“Because I’m excellent at disruption,” Pigeon says. “He’ll befine.”
It earns her one of Nettle’s most disapproving glares.
Pigeon.She’s okay. Her eyes are bruised from tiredness, and her braid has all but come undone. Aside from that and her still-healing burn, she’s here, she’s fine. Another friend I can tick off as alive and safe. The four of them jog down the aisle, and Ava pushes through to the guards.
“What is going on here?” she barks. “Why are half my men on the floor and not protecting the citizens? Get to it.Now.”
“Captain!” Morgana shouts. “Arrest those intruders!”
Ava ignores her. She points a threatening finger at Will and me. “You two are testing every inch of my patience. You’re lucky I need to focus on the safety of the guests right now. I swear to thegods!”
Will’s grin can’t hide his discomfort. He keeps his forearm pressed to his chest to stay the bleeding as he says, “My chance of a pardon off the table, then, Captain?”
She purses her lips so tight they disappear. “We can talk about it later.”
“Cansomeonetell me what’s going on here?” the prince shouts.
From the aisle, we peer up at the performance onstage. Morgana takes Fern’s face in her long fingers. Her lavender eyes are wide as she wipes a tear away from the queen’s pasty cheek.
