Keeping his irritation at bay, Darius composes himself before sticking his head out of the carriage. What should have been a dull, quiet evening has been replaced with absolute chaos. His stationed guards are not in their usual positions, and, furthermore, the drawbridge is lowered with no one keeping watch. He bites down on the inside of his cheek, nearly drawing blood. He exits the carriage, motioning for Cyrus to follow him.
“What in lords’ name is going on?” Cyrus shouts as he rushes toward the entrance, just steps behind Darius.
“Do you think I’d be running if I knew?” he shouts back. He rushes up the stone steps, nearly colliding headfirst with Hugh Darby.
“Your Majesty,” he says, eyes wide, “please forgive my lack of attention. There’s an emergency. There’s an intruder in the castle.”
“Where are the rest of the Cruex?” Darius snaps.
“They’re upstairs, on the third floor . . . near the forbidden wing.”
Darius’s breath hitches. “In what room?”
Hugh shifts uncomfortably between his feet. “In—er, well,” he stammers.
Darius grabs him by the shoulders. “You are wasting my time. Spit it out.”
“In the prince’s childhood room,” he says quickly. “They’re doing their best to apprehend the intruder.” He glances over his shoulder, then lowers his voice to a whisper. “It isn’t proving to be easy. He’s one of them, Your Majesty. A Caldari.”
Darius shoves the babbling Cruex member out of the way before darting up the steps, climbing two at a time. He rushes down each corridor, only slowing down to catch a quick breath before taking off again. The hallway grows darker and darker until he reaches the one place in the castle that he hasn’t visited in over ten years.
Braxton’s old room.
The door is wide open, and there are sounds of a scuffle inside. He can hear his Cruex members grunting with every missed swing of their weapons. And they call themselves assassins.
Without delay, he marches to the entrance, twisting his amethyst ring so that it’s flush against his palm. Between the darkness in the room and the Cruex clad in black, it’s nearly impossible to see. “Show yourself!” he commands. At the sound of his voice, the Cruex lower their weapons. “I said show yourself!”
The heavy breathing stops.
Darius takes a cautious step forward into the room.
No one moves.
He can’t see, but he can sense something approaching from the side. He turns his head, a twisted grin creeping across his face. With the Mallum at his fingertips, he is the furthest thing from afraid. “Show yourself,” he whispers.
A gruff voice says, “Coward.”
Darius blindly lunges, but the intruder is too quick.
An enraging flash of green follows.
ARDEN ELIRI
JUST AS THE tears are about to come streaming down my face, I hear a yip a short distance away. Juniper. I jump to my feet and turn toward the sound. A blinding flash of jade follows.
My senses heightened, I race toward the fading green light, my legs moving faster than they ever have before. When I arrive on the scene, my chest tightens. Lying on the ground is my brother.
Covered in blood.
“Oh my lords, oh my lords,” I say, dropping to my knees. Juniper yips again, and I can see her, shaking and hiding behind a tree. “It’s okay, Juni,” I say unevenly, even though I don’t believe my own words. “Everything is going to be okay.”
I look down at the red heap before me. Gently, I grab my brother’s shoulders and shake them. “Haskell, can you hear me?”
He doesn’t stir.
I try again. “Haskell?”
His eyes remain closed. His chest doesn’t move. I notice there’s a drop of crimson trickling from his mouth.
Dead. Dead. Dead.
I try to quiet the debilitating whispers swarming my mind. Even in my panicked state, I remember my abilities. “I can fix this,” I say aloud, hoping that the words will affirm my actions. “I can heal you.”
As I set my hands over his chest, I take a deep inhale. On the exhale, I close my eyes. I begin to search for my light, just like I had with Aldreda, begging for it to come forth, to reveal itself. For what feels like an eternity, I remain still, peeking out of my left eye every now and again, hoping to see that glowing light.
It doesn’t come.
I try again, but notice I feel . . . empty.
Devoid of everything.
Despair washes over me. I retract my hands, bringing them back to my sides, my eyes trailing over Haskell’s eerily still body.
Why can I no longer heal?
“No,” I say aloud. “This is not how this ends.” I did not reunite with my brother only to have him taken from me . . . again. I push back a wave of tears. “I can still fix this.”
I look down at my useless hands before noticing something strewn off to the side of the forest. Even through the glassiness of my eyes, I can see that it’s a bag full of supplies.
The one he’d left with.
I don’t hesitate to rush over to it. “Come on,” I say, digging through the contents. “There has to be something in here.” Something clinks at the very bottom. I pull out a vial of golden liquid, recognizing it immediately. I remove the cork from the top and take a whiff, my eyes watering at the putrid smell—and yet, I feel a flicker of hope. It’s the same liquid Harrod Oakes had administered after the unwelcome infliction I’d experienced in the Daegrum Chambers. A brew to heal severe injuries caused by illusié. It isn’t lost on me that finding the vial in his bag means that Haskell had gone to Trendalath—and that someone had tried to kill him.
I bring the vial to my brother’s mouth, parting his lips just enough to ensure the liquid doesn’t trickle out. The empty vial drops from my hand and rolls onto the ground next to me as I wait.
And wait. And wait.
He doesn’t move.
I press my hands to my forehead, covering my eyes, feeling the tears once again as they threaten to fall. I squeeze them shut as a whimper escapes me.
Please come back. Please.
While I can’t be certain exactly how much time passes, it feels excruciatingly long. Just when I think all hope is lost . . . his chest rises.
RYDAN HELSTROM
RYDAN GAZES UP at Avery with what is surely a fool’s expression. Slowly, he pushes himself to his feet.
“Lose your shirt along the way?”
“Had to get up here somehow.”
“You’re trespassing.”
Rydan angles his head. “So are you.”
Avery throws his head back in amusement. “And in what way am I trespassing? Might I remind you, you’re on my ship.”
“Merchant ships are supposed to dock at the harbor. Does this look like a harbor to you?” He gives a sarcastic
sweep of his hand.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I can do as I damn well please.” He rolls his eyes before angling his head toward the beach. “Now get off my ship.”