Page 56 of A Crown of Victory and Vengeance (The Curse of Silver Secrets and Cruel Shadows #2)

Chapter

Fifty-Six

EVIE

A n assassin’s mask darkened my view as I was bent backwards, head forced past the railing by a thick hand clasped around my neck. My blazing crown fell from the force.

I tightened all of my muscles, struggling to rise back underneath the safety of the roof.

I only managed a jerk.

The assassin’s other hand wrapped around my wrist, squeezing painfully as I tried to push my switchblade into his neck. Our hands shook from the strain.

With my free arm, I tried clawing at his mark, his neck, his clothes.

But without a blade, powers, and blood, I didn’t have enough strength to even make him flinch.

I rolled my head, trying to move as much as I could.

His hand tightened on my neck, choking me.

A thump and a sizzle resounded an inch away from my face.

The poisoned arrows were aimed at me.

I’d either die strangled or the poison would get me.

I kicked my attacker.

He didn’t move.

I spit in his face.

He cackled.

And I was slowly losing grip of my thoughts, lungs desperate for air.

This was not how I would die.

I refused.

But the grip turned more painful, my brain throbbed, and–

A shadow swooped down upon us.

A hiss of a blade and I could finally breathe again.

My eyes watered and my body shook with coughs as I also inhaled ash.

I blinked up, only to see The Dragon sitting above me, feet firmly set on the railing, murder in his gaze.

He’d saved me.

He’d traversed the courtyard, just like I’d asked him not to, and saved me.

“Thank you,” I managed as I jerked myself away from the guardrail.

He moved to follow me. “You’re very wel–”

He turned with inhuman speed as three arrows hissed toward us.

My heart in my throat, I watched his blade slashed through the air, cleaving through the shafts.

I heaved a sigh of relief as the arrow heads impaled themselves in the floor at a much slower speed, just as The Dragon turned.

Two of the arrow heads sizzled in the wood.

One didn’t.

Time slowed as The Dragon stood on the railing, the purple light shining behind him like he was a god.

Blood gushed from his neck.

Green blood, fizzling and foul, straight from his jugular.

His body jerked, even as he smiled at me.

“You’re alive,” he muttered.

“NO!” I roared, hands rushing toward him. “Zandyr!”

Calling out his name didn’t help. His eyes rolled and he plunged toward the courtyard, body limp.

The last thing I remembered was jumping after him, desperate palms gripping his armor. We both fell as a blinding blue light engulfed us.