What–
She froze completely. Hyper aware of the warmth of his hand against her lips, his chest against her back, the stillness of him. A patrol rounded the corner, passing where she had been stood only a second before, the pair climbing up the rampart steps. Sebastian lowered his hand. Neither of them moved for several seconds.
His lips brushed her ear. “Too close.”
“Yeah,” she breathed. Her heart was pounding.
They waited until the pair had cleared the ramparts and they climbed the steps, silencing the Sorrel bowmen there in the same way – three men asleep, hands resting on their bows before they’d even registered movement.
Sebastian tightened his hand on Kara’s. “You know,” he whispered, “we’re really good at this.”
Too good. Terrifyingly good.
She didn’t know if that thrilled her more than it scared her. They were moving as one like they’d been doing this for years. Kara’s pulse was still racing, sweat beading on her palms, but the rhythm of it had become manageable now – nearly thirty men down – step, sleep, silence. Until the moment it wasn’t.
One soldier from the squad by the temple doors shifted, calling up to the bowmen he thought were still on the ramparts, “Hey, Fletch – you lot want warming up? Got mead here!”
No answer from above. The soldier frowned, and turned towards the rampart stairs, scanning the shadows. He knew something wasn’t right. It didn’t take long for him to spot them. His shout split the night.
“Over there!”
In an instant, ten men wheeled towards them, steel flashing, boots pounding towards the two sets of stone steps either side of them. There was no time for subtlety, no chance to ease them quietly into sleep.
Shit.
Sebastian wrenched his hand free, shoving her behind him.
“Stay behind me!” he ordered, raising his blade, his crimson shooting across the steel as he braced.
And then the fight was on.
Three soldiers broke from the pack, sprinting up the stairs closest to her. Kara flung her hands forward, emerald light obeying immediately. Two crumpled at once, armour clattering. But the third fought through it, staggering, teeth bared as he pushed against the haze creeping over him. Sebastian was already locked in battle on the west stairs, she could hear the steel ringing, hear his shouts of rage.
Don’t call Sebastian. Don’t be a distraction.
But the soldier was on her. One hand on her wrist, the other reaching for his nightshade cuffs.
Not again. Never again.
Something dark rose in her – the same ruthless focus that had overpowered the patrol guard. Her emerald tendrils crushed around him like a vice. She felt his consciousness go dark with fear as he slumpedagainst her. Kara staggered back breathing hard, letting him fall harder than was strictly necessary. She turned back to Sebastian – he was still fighting – his blade a storm of crimson as he cut down one and sent another reeling. There were already five men on the ground. And then it was done. The last soldier fell, magic-scorched, and silence rang out.
Breathless, Kara closed the distance that had gathered between them. “Was that all of them?”
Sebastian scanned the shadows, sword still drawn and ready. “It better be,” he muttered darkly.
They threw themselves down the rampart steps and sprinted for the temple doors. Sebastian slammed his shoulder into them, breaking them open at once.
And there it was.
The Fire Shard.
It sat atop an obsidian plinth at the chamber’s heart, pulsing with light – bright crimson, almost alive. The Fatàn shield shimmered a deep ruby around it. Sebastian stepped forward. The shield rippled as he passed through, parting like water, recognising him as it had with all the others. He closed his hand around the crystal. For a moment there was silence.
Then it shattered.
The chamber floor shook with a deafening crack, like the world itself had split. Heat seared the air. From outside came a thunderous roar – the volcano – spitting its fury into the night sky.
“Well, that’ll bring the rest of them,” Kara said.
