Page 27

The next part happens so quickly.

Ragnar tackles the first Oksvakt to the ground, pummeling him until his face is bloodied and his body limp. The other guard took off into the halls, calling for assistance. Ragnar turns and looks at me with those haunting dark eyes, a certain level of resolve lingering. He wipes his bleeding lip with the back of his hand. “Better start cutting,” he says before running out into the hall.

I hear a scuffle outside almost immediately.

Is he…

…fighting them?

Before anyone can notice, I grab the dagger and reposition it in my hand, sawing at the leather strap. My wrist aches with the awkward angle, but I ignore the pain.

Ragnar left this dagger for me.

The strap pops and my hand is free, giving me better leverage for the other straps. Grunts and clatters of metal stream in from the hall, and I send a quick prayer to the Sun Goddess for Ragnar’s change of heart.

I’m running out of time. This may be my only shot.

I make quick work of the straps, nicking myself a couple times in the process, and launch myself off the table. I rush to the wall and begin to circle.

This has to work. Come on, come on…

I circle a few times before noticing it. On the other side of the chamber is a small set of stairs, so camouflaged into the wall that I almost miss it.

The fire in my veins ignites with hope. I knew that those slabs of rock had to be created and tended to somehow.

I run to the spiraling stairs, magic that I have been storing for a week flaring from deep within. Ready to release and burn this whole castle to ashes.

Halfway across the room, Lord Rollo appears in the doorway, still wearing his wedding garb. “STOP HER!”

Dozens of Underlings flood the room, spreading out in clusters, all drawing their axes in a cacophony of steel and sweat. I yank on my power so fast it bursts out of me and into the closest cluster of Underlings, sending them flying.

I sprint toward the stairs as the small hole at the top of the room brightens with light from the coming sunrise. A large Underling woman crashes into me, and I sprawl forward, catching myself on the stone floor. The runes painted onto my skin smear with my own blood, the curse of their marks wiping away easily.

Feeling for that torrent of magic waiting inside me, I blast her away with a surge of white hot light. Her arm disintegrates as she tumbles backward. My power stores lessen with each pulse wave, so I quickly draw back, needing to preserve as much as possible.

The room is now filled with armed Oksvakt and one fucking Underling Lord too many.

“CAPTURE HER, NOW!” the Jord Lord commands as I reach the stairs, taking them two by two. My bare feet find purchase on the small, jagged steps. Underlings nip at my heels, so I respond with little bursts of energy. One of them grabs my ankle, and I fall. The brightness above shines in streams of light, mocking me with its unattainable distance high above.

My escape plan taunting me in my final moments.

My fall is broken by the sickening crunch of bodies.

Determination floods my veins, fueling the rage taking shape within my body. I roll and stand slowly, my eyes undoubtedly alive with a deathly molten glow. A phoenix rising from the ashes. Shrapnel and dust settle to the ground as Underlings circle around.

Just as Marrow used to do before performances, I take a deep breath and center myself before I release the remaining store of star magic in a fatal scream.

Bodies collapse. Eye sockets bleed. Most knock so hard into the stone wall that dust plumes, coating the room in a hazy glow.

Only one Underling remains standing with a protective shield charmed around him.

The male responsible for my capture. My torment. My humiliation. My town. My Master Teller.

My unfettered, unfiltered rage.

I may be out of magic, but power surges from all that I have lost in the form of courage like nothing I’ve felt before.

“Those were my people you just hurt,” he rasps furiously. “You will pay for this.”