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Sebastian’s free hand fell to his side, where a golden crown hung from his belt. “Kill them!” Sebastian ordered.

The guards charged forward, and Sebastian and Armen got lost in the crowd as the temple became a slaughterhouse once more.

Graeson and the god worked in tandem as Graeson swiped his blades and knocked the soldiers down one by one as Moris paralyzed them. But no matter how many men they slew, more followed.

Graeson drove his sword through the Frenzian before him, then twisted the blade. He felt the soldier’s life leave him as he held onto him by the shoulder.

“Go, Armen and I—” Moris words were cut off. “That fucking coward!”

Graeson looked toward the crowd. Pushing past the crowd of guards and using his sword to shield himself, Armen ran toward the door, abandoning them.

Sweat dripped down Moris’ forehead. “It’ll take some time for the ones unconscious to wake. I can hold them off.”

“There are too many,” Graeson spat back.

Moris shook his head.

“But—”

“I can’t hold them for much longer!” Terin shouted from behind Graeson. “Not without releasing my hold on Kallie.”

Moris’s hair was soaked, his face was red, but he continued to hold on. “I saw Dani slip behind the tapestry behind the dais. She’s gone after him.”

Graeson glanced at his friend. Terin’s fists drove into the ground as sweat dripped from his face. He was losing the fight. His strength was waning.

“This is bigger than me, Gray,” Moris said, his voice strained. “Go.”

If he were Fynn, he wouldn’t abandon his people. Graeson, however, wasn’t a prince. He was a monster.

Graeson swallowed and nodded. He hurried to Kalisandre, throwing her over his shoulder. “Can you walk, Ter?”

“I’ll manage,” Terin said as he stood, his legs trembling beneath his weight.

“Go!” Moris shouted.

Without delaying the inevitable any further, Graeson put an arm beneath Terin’s armpit and rushed forward. They slipped behind the swarm of guests much quicker than before as the people clawed their way through the main exit.

Reaching the wall, Graeson lifted the corner of the tapestry, ushering Terin forward. As Terin pushed through the hidden door, Graeson took one last glance back.

The soldiers Terin had rendered unconscious were slowly rising, Terin’s hold on them now waning. Moris’ body swayed.

A soldier’s hand twitched. A soldier broke free from Moris’ paralysis. Then another.

Snatching his swords from his side, Moris released his hold on the men. As they came forward, he blocked their strikes. Switching back and forth between paralyzing his opponents and slicing them down at an unparalleled speed, Moris was depleting his strength rapidly.

As a soldier came from behind, Graeson shouted to warn Moris as the soldier moved, but he was too far away. The Frenzian ran his blade through Moris’ back. Blood spilled from his mouth, and he folded over, his hand grabbing onto the blade. As Moris’ knees hit the ground, all the Frenzian soldiers stirred back into action and stormed forward.

“Gray! We have to go!” Terin shouted from the hidden hallway. Sweat dripped down his face, and his olive skin drained of its warm hue.

There was no helping Moris, Graeson knew that. This was how he wanted to go—fighting for his kingdom, for his people, for the future. Graeson would not let his death be in vain.

And he would find Armen and make him regret abandoning them.

Screams echoed in the hidden hallway.

He knew those screams.

This time, though, the screams were not consumed by grief or denial; instead, they were drenched in pain, anger, and rage. Dani had found the source of her revenge.