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Something sharp poked his thigh. “Save themfrom what?”Evrille asked in a fae snarl, making Isak jump so hard the dagger she pressed to his leg almost cut off his favourite feature.

“Where the chasm didthatcome from?” he asked shrilly.

“Secret sheath,” she replied, teeth still bared.“Whereis my family?”

Isak sighed, pushing the knife aside. “How much do you know? About the saints and their invasion?”

“Pretty hard to miss the latter,” Zamanya said in a rough growl. “But what do you mean saints? Which ones?”

Isak groaned, massaging his brow.

Isak,Viskae said in a breathless rush.

Little fucking busy. What is it?

“It’s a long story, and I don’t have the time,” Isak answered Zamanya, aware of footsteps crunching the dead grass behind him, the rest of his little troop closing the distance. Nosy fuckers probably wanted to know what they were discussing. “Jaro’s life depends on finding this gold box, and the ancient sword inside. It’s the only thing that can take out a saint.Alltheir lives depend on it. Get your militia to help us search the ruins for it, and I’ll tell you everything as we work.”

“Their lives depend on a box?” Evrille asked sharply. “You can’t be serious. Wherearethey? Where is my brother?”

Isak jumped when Kaladeir and Harth appeared on either side of him, the two guards flanking them. “I promise I’ll tell you everything,” Isak said, holding Evrille’s stare so she knew he meant it. “But we need this sword. Immediately. I can—they have my mate, too, and I can sense her pain. They’rehurtingher. The only way to stop that is to find this damn thing and fix the sword inside.” He gave the militia a contemplative glance. “I don’t suppose you have any saints in your ranks…?”

Isak,Viskae hissed, her voice loud enough to startle him.

“Not this again,” Kaladeir sighed. “The saints aren’t real.”

But Zamanya was grinning, and a ripple of awareness of her magic went through Isak when he met her eyes again. “Of course they’re not,” she said to the king consort with a little smile.

Isak straightened, hope choking him. He looked from the warrior to Evrille, another ripple going through him when she met his stare. “Both of you?” Isak breathed.

Evrille nodded.

Isak exhaled hard. This might just work.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

The drake dug its clawed feet into the floor and dragged itself along, tearing up the carpet. Maia froze, until instinct rammed into her soul.

“Kheir,” she gasped, breaking into a run and dropping to her knees beside him. He was still conscious, still breathing. Too fast and shallow but breathing.

“A…” he tried to speak, but pain smothered him until he bit down on his tongue, blood staining his lip.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she promised, even as fear tore through her soul. The drake made the whole damn palace shake as it took another step.

“No,”Karmen breathed, her voice ragged. She hadn’t got the plants and flowers out of her throat, Maia was gratified to see. She hoped they choked her. Like her magic was in agreement, the vines sunk deeper into Karmen’s skin, blood bubbling from the open wounds. Her eyes gaped wide, but she just stared at the drake as it dragged itself closer, jaws open. The temperature plummeted. They were air drakes, Maia remembered. Some of the most powerful creatures to ever exist. Fae needed air to survive and the drakes had the power to end that. And the saints had once been fae, or so the legends went.

Maia watched that fact hit Karmen, but anger overrode her shock. She held tighter to Kheir as white-hot lightning crackled and struck the drake between its sharp horns… and did nothing. The massive creature shook its head, and a low gravelly sound filled. It was… laughing.

And it had spoken to Maia. Spoken directly into her mind.

Not lost. Gathering power, gathering allies for the second great war.

Karmen started forward a step. “You are nothing but a relic, forgotten and—” She froze, staring atBryonas Maia’s mate snapped the cuff from his wrist as easily as if it was glass. Now Maia was staring too.

I’ll handle this,the drake’s deep voice.Your mates need you.

“My—” Panic hit her system. She searched her soul, trying to feel something other than the unending pain from Kheir’s wing.

“Ark,” Kheir rasped, agony in his voice. “Vawn.”