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Raphael turns to me. “It’s good to see you alive and well,” he says softly.

I nod and smile back at him. “You, too.”

Behind me, Talan turns briefly, shooting Raphael a look that could cleave a man in two.

“Allies,” I hiss.

CHAPTER 53

As we run through the castle hallway, battle sounds pierce the leaded windows—metal on metal, screams of agony, the kind of noise that set your teeth on edge. Outside, cadets are killing each other, and knights are hacking their way across the courtyard. The anti-dragon gun is still firing, and I can only pray to the gods that our dragon is managing to evade it.

We race to Shalott Tower, breathless and desperate. Thick, acrid smoke coils around us as we pass through the stone corridor linking the towers. It burns the back of my throat and stings my lungs.

Civil war has finally erupted in Camelot—demi-Fey and our human allies against the Iron Legion. Weshouldbe united, preparing for the dragon attack from Auberon, but no. Thanks to Wrythe’s machinations, we’re busily trying to murder one another instead.

When we reach the spiral stairway, I’m already drenched in sweat. My lungs are tight, my chest aching.

Serana leads, axe in hand, radiating fury. Talan is right behind her, prowling silently. I follow, clutching the bag of vials to my chest like it’s my baby.

As we climb, Talan whispers. “Footfalls. Someone is coming down.”

“Get ready,” Serana mutters, clenching her axe.

Talan unsheathes his sword. I pass the vials to Tana, my hands shaking, then draw my daggers.

The first Iron Legion soldier appears, leaping down the stairs, short sword in one hand and a shield in the other. He lunges at Serana, using the high ground. She parries and swings her axe upward with a snarl. He blocks her attack with his shield, but the force of her strike twists his arm sharply. I hear the snap of bones breaking, and he lets out a scream.

Serana strikes again, bringing down the axe between his throat and collarbone. Blood spills, and he falls, bleeding out on the stairs.

We don’t stop. We step over his corpse, forging on.

But another one is coming for us. This time, Talan takes the lead, stepping ahead of Serana without a word. His blade finds the cadet’s chest, and it’s over in a blink.

The metallic smell of blood fills the air, curdling my stomach. As I step over the second cadet’s body, my throat tightens. The kid looks soyoung.None of this needed to happen. But Wrythe made it happen.

My lungs seize up, my asthma making we wheeze. As we climb the stairs, I pull out my inhaler, puffing twice.

We reach the top, where a vaulted hall opens before us. Three knights are waiting beneath the soaring arches—larger, stronger, and better trained than the cadets. More are charging to join them, the clattering of their armor echoing off the ceiling.

Talan explodes into motion, his sword slashing through one throat, then another.

Raphael bursts from the stairwell in a blur of steel. He and Talan move like mirrored fury, carving through the Iron Legion as they charge us. Sunlight gleams on blood-slicked weapons.

I turn to see Horatio running for us. The knight who butchered Nolan in the trial has his sword ready.

I lock my gaze on him, breathing hard, and my wrists tingle with magic. Morgan’s voice whispers in the dark recesses of my mind, sharpening my focus.

I throw my dagger, and it lodges clean in Horatio’s eye. He drops to the stone floor. He screeches, and then his screams fade to a whimper.

From the corner of my eye, I see Serana’s axe curving through the air.

Nivene and Darius join in, swords ready.

“Stay back, Tana!” I shout.

She absolutely must stay in the stairwell, keeping those vials safe, or the battle will be over. It willallbe over.

All of Tarquin’s friends seem to be here, some alive, some dead, which makes me wonder whereheis.