Melay still had capital guards left in her command. And there were only two reasons why guards knocked on Empath doors: to reassign, and to arrest.
Her mother backed away from the door. “They’re taking some of us to the farms.”
“Larkin?” Garran’s voice sounded from the stairs, and she fought through his confusion to find her thoughts. This had nothing to do with the farms. The taste of last night’s stew rose in Larkin’s throat. She swallowed, running to her mother, still holding the poker. “Mum…” How could she explain what she’d done? The shopkeeper had obviously notified the guards of her theft. Perhaps even of her magic.
She’d never see the light of day again.
The handle rattled as someone rammed against the door. Her father had meant to fix the lock …
Larkin didn’t have time to explain. Forget explaining; she couldn’t even apologize. Maybe her family would think that she was being taken to the farms and never know better. “Garran and Dad are going to take care of you, Mum, all right?”
Larkin’s mother grabbed her shoulders. “What are you talking about? What did you do?”
The lock gave way and the door slammed open, morning light pouring in. Larkin shielded her eyes. The sun reflected off the brightest armor she’d ever seen. Luminite armor.
Luminite was too heavy for battle; only the palace guards wore it. Palace guards didn’t march all the way to the canyon to arrest Empaths like her for stealing rabbits, did they?
The tallest, a surly lieutenant, stooped as he stepped into their home. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, and somehow that made it worse. More personal. Weathered by age, the man looked as though he’d made these arrests hundreds of times, but Larkin knew this wasn’t a normal arrest.
She couldn’t sense him—not with his armor—but caught a glimpse of alarm in his eyes as he unclipped the luminite shackles that dangled from his belt. Three other guards swept around the lieutenant and into the house. Startled, Larkin dropped the fire poker, wincing as one yanked her arms behind her back. The lieutenant clamped the luminite shackles around her wrists.
Garran cried her name.
“Stay back!” she shouted, knowing full well what guards did to Empaths who fought arrest. She tasted iron at the memory of sprayed blood, imagining it was Garran’s.
No. She couldn’t let that happen.
As the luminite metal grazed her skin, her Empath sense extinguished entirely.
“What did you do?” her mother repeated.
Larkin opened her mouth, but the explanation was lodged somewhere deep inside her.
I didn’t want us to starve.
I was humiliated.
I wanted to hurt him back.
As she fought to find the right excuse, her mother’s confusion sickening her, the lieutenant nodded toward Garran.
A scream tore from Larkin’s mouth. “NO!”
Garran flinched, holding his hands up as if to surrender.
“He didn’t do anything! He wasn’t even with me!” A fierceness rose, something untamed that wanted her to protect what she cared about most. She’d spent her whole life doing just that. She couldn’t give up, not now.
Larkin thrashed against her restraints. “Don’t touch him!”
The guard holding Larkin threw her at the wall near the hearth, her head slamming against stone. Pain blinded her.
As her mother wept, Larkin homed in on the sound, using it as an anchor to keep from blacking out. Her vision refocused as a guard cast her mother to the kitchen floor. Her mother landed on her bad leg, crying out.
“Mum…” Larkin’s eyes darted across the room until she saw Garran backed into the corner. Brandishing a knife, the guard grabbed Garran by the collar and shoved him outside.
The lieutenant’s fingers closed around a fistful of Larkin’s hair, and he yanked her away from the wall. Tears of pain streamed down her face as he pushed her through the open doorway. Larkin stumbled down the steps to the canyon.
Even with her hands behind her back, she whirled to the open doorway and the collapsed form of her broken mother. With all the armor and the shackles, Larkin didn’t know how much her mother could sense. She tried anyway. Love was supposed to feel bright and warm, but her own weighed heavier than chains, the agony deeper than any wound.
I love you.
A guard grasped the door handle and swung it shut.
“Wait!” She wasn’t ready.
Larkin felt a sharp pain as the lieutenant bumped his fist against the back of her skull.
“No talking.”
She stumbled again, the ground spinning beneath her feet, before she was hauled back up. She heard scuffling from somewhere up ahead of them. Her brother. Larkin lifted her head to see Garran attempting to yank away from the guard who held him. “Leave her alone!”
“Garran, don’t.” Larkin focused on the pain to keep herself distracted, failing. If she were religious, she would’ve started praying to Ilona. Asking for mercy. But I don’t deserve mercy, she thought. Not after what she had done to her mother. To Garran.
Larkin heard him whimper in pain. She’d never forgive herself for this.
Several Empaths stopped in their tracks to watch before scurrying away. Larkin didn’t need to sense their fear. She saw it in their eyes.
The growl of rock sounded in the distance. Larkin watched two Empaths stumble and cling to each other at the same moment the ground shifted beneath her own feet.
The guard who held Larkin hesitated, tightening his grip on Larkin’s arms. “What was that?”
A deafening crack startled Larkin. She jerked her head toward the city gates just in time to see the Temple of Light collapse. The structure fell all at once, as though crushed by the grip of an invisible giant. The nightmarish sound of crumbling stone sent vibrations deep into her bones.
Destruction magic. More powerful than she could have ever imagined.
Her breath caught as she watched, stunned. For a moment, Larkin wondered if she had done it. But that was impossible. She couldn’t sense anything beneath these shackles.
Plumes of dust erupted from the debris. Beneath the echoing rubble, screams reverberated up the mountain.
“Sweet Ilona,” Garran said.
Some of the surrounding guards drew their swords, but the lieutenant held his hand out.
As the dust dissipated, the market square dissolved into chaos.
“Do something!” a vendor screamed at the guards. Some were throwing wares into carts before hauling them off, others abandoning their stalls entirely. Folks stampeded past Larkin like the wild rush of a river current. Before her, a man fell and was nearly trampled, and she watched in horror as the guards—her guards—did nothing.
Her luminite shackles bit into her wrists. She was almost grateful for them—the terror of the vendors would have been maddening. Was the canyon safe? The mines?
“Dad!” Larkin cried. She looked to Garran, who stared down at the ruined temple with wild eyes.
The lieutenant dropped his hand. “Continue escorting the prisoners.”
“But, sir—”
“Do it now,” barked the lieutenant, stepping over the fallen man. “Queen Melay’s orders.”
Melay? Larkin must have heard wrong. Why would the queen bother to personally give a damn about their arrest?
Larkin’s guard steered her north, shielding her from the crush of people. “Out of the way!”