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“Keep going,” he gasped aloud.

So distant, that voice, but she had no choice but to heed it.

There was no stopping now, not even when a sharp thud reverberated through the room.

As the spell finally locked into place, she barely heard Mehl’s curse.

Chapter66

Discretion

Another thump landed against the main doors, and it took all of Mehl’s discipline not to dart forward. No matter what, he couldn’t. He had to protect Toren and Ria. Even without this possible new threat, they worried him enough. Both were frighteningly pale, and Toren was wavering a little on his feet. If they weren’t nearly finished with the spell, Mehl would have jerked them free of the magic.

Instead, he reached telepathically for Sir Macoe—but all he found was silence.

The ring of Mehl’s sword echoed through the empty room as he pulled it free. If someone had managed to kill the captain, they were in serious danger. And here he stood, unable to help. Mehl ground his teeth together as he angled his body so he could see both the door and his spouses. He would at least be prepared if someone broke through.

After sending a mental command to the bodyguards at the back entrance to be vigilant, he did a tentative probe with his magic, though his head throbbed harder from yet another split in his attention. Resolutely, he breathed through it. Four people were on the other side of those doors—Sir Macoe, Mery, and two whose energy signatures Mehl didn’t recognize. The strangers’ energies tangled close with the captain’s in either camaraderie or combat.

The latter, no doubt.

Abruptly, a sort of click echoed through Mehl’s skull, and the blood-link with Toren and Ria collapsed. Heart pounding, he watched the two slump against one another like two trees damaged in a storm. Gods. Should he help them? He couldn’t forget the danger beyond the doors, and rushing to offer physical support could be a deadly distraction.

Yet another loud thump reverberated through the room, followed quickly by a second. Ria spun around, nearly causing Toren to topple. Though pale, she seemed strong enough to stand steadily. But Toren trembled where he stood, his face gaunt and his limbs visibly shaking. Bile scorched Mehl’s throat at his inability to help steady his husband. Only when Toren managed to drop onto his throne did Mehl manage to feel a semblance of comfort.

Still, his hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.

“I didn’t know I could be so empty,” Toren whispered. Then he cleared his throat. “What’s happening out there? I’m not sure I have the energy to contact Macoe.”

“It wouldn’t do you any good to try,” Mehl said. “I received only silence when I made the attempt.”

Ria gasped. “Surely, he’s not dead?”

“Could be other things,” Toren said, his words slightly slurred. “Head wound. Mental blast. Could even be too busy. Mehl, go check.”

Toren was ordering him into danger?He must be worn to the bone.“I can’t leave the two of you like this,” Mehl argued.

“Call two bodyguards in.” Toren tipped his head toward the other throne. “Sit there, Ria.”

“You want me to sit on the official thr—”

Thud.

She snapped her mouth closed and gave a quick, alarmed glance at the door. Then she lowered herself tentatively onto Mehl’s throne. It was an odd, grim sight, but not because he felt territorial about his seat. Blood coated the hem of her butter-yellow dress, and smears of it streaked across the floor between the sunburst and the throne. She must not have watched her step when she’d spun toward the door.

He sent a mental call to Feref to come help with cleanup.

As soon as the bodyguards secured the secondary entrance behind them, Mehl charged forward. If the captain needed help, he would provide it. His thoughts clarified, his focus resolving on one thing—ending the threat on the other side of those doors.

Another scan with his magic revealed that Sir Macoe and the strangers were on the ground, and the blur of Mery’s energy appeared to be atop one of them. Helping or harming? Could the captain have been wrong about his sister? Mehl gritted his teeth. Iftwohealers were involved in this plot, they had deeper problems than any of them had realized.

Mehl eased slowly through the doors, his gaze flicking over the scene. On the far edges of the grand entryway, soldiers kept any lingering courtiers at bay while Sir Macoe tussled with a servant in front of the throne room doors. Mery straddled a second man’s back—a mage by the design of his robes—with one hand pressed between his shoulder blades and another at his neck. Tossing her hair back, she turned her head Mehl’s way.

“Your Majesty! Good, you’re finally here.” When the mage began to squirm, Mery bounced on his back and then bent her head toward his ear. “Stop it, Rencis. I promise you I can stop your heart before your spell hits. You hurt my brother, so I’ll happily do it, too.”

What was going on here?

Sir Macoe appeared to be winning his battle with a flurry of well-placed jabs, so Mehl lowered the tip of his sword to the base of the mage’s skull. Any remaining hint of motion ceased at that. Only honor kept Mehl from digging the blade deep despite the man’s acquiescence. He wouldnotbecome as horrible as his enemies.