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Chapter forty-seven

HYACINTH

The pounding of Landers’s heart reverberated through my own veins, a steady and relentless beat that forced my fear to calm.

Every ounce of pain that pulsed through his body flooded my soul as the towering glass windows of the House of High’s great hall exploded inward.

They would not lay another finger on my family. Not while I still had breath in my body.

I did not wait for the dragons to land, I did not wait for anything as I leapt from their back, hurtling toward the round below.

The impact of my boots shook the very foundations of their fortress, shattering glass under my feet as I landed with a thunderous force.

Darkness descended upon the surroundings as I blocked off all possible exits, screams piercing through the air like a chorus of terror.

A dragon’s song filled the air at my back as I rolled my shoulders back, echoing throughout the realm like a call to arms—like a warning .

My body hummed with raw power, casting an ethereal glow that illuminated my path toward the dais. Magic radiated around me in pulsing waves, shadows twisted and parted with every step I took, like living creatures bowing in reverence as Ata and Landers came into view.

I could feel the others step through the broken windows, their magic ready but I didn’t look back.

All I could see was him.

My entire world condensed into a single figure standing before me.

Our gazes locked, and in that instant, a crushing weight lifted from my chest. My lungs greedily drank in air they had refused to take in without him.

His piercing emerald eyes held so much pain, so much pride , as they gazed back at me.

My heart throbbed against the cry threatening to escape my lips at the sight of him.

It was more than just the sight of him—of them.

It was the sight of my home.

My gaze slipped to Ata and I choked back the gasp that raced up my throat. Her eyes held galaxies, as if she could see right into the very depths of my soul, exposing every thread that made me. A sob rolled from my chest as that beautiful, wicked smile spread across her lips.

She was okay.

She was okay.

“Take another step closer and he dies,” a shrill voice said, and my eyes turned to the sound. A silver-haired woman held a blade to Dukovich’s throat as two guards held him in place. Blood trickled from where the blade cut into his skin.

I didn’t have to move, didn’t have to speak, only think and the blade was sent flying across the room. From the corner of my eye, I could see a grin spread across Landers’s lips, feel his pride flaring underneath my breasts.

What little color stained the woman’s cheeks faded as I took another step closer. She shoved Dukovich forward and Ata caught him by the arm, steadying him as she turned to run. Shadows shot toward her, catching on her ankles—just like she had done to Ata—and pulled her feet out from under her.

“Leaving so soon?” I asked, the venom in my voice a surprise to my own ears. “We haven’t properly met yet.”

I dragged her body back toward me as Landers made his way to my side. He slipped his hand into mine, pulling it to his lips and pressing a kiss against its surface as his verdant gaze locked onto mine with a ferocity that ignited a storm under my skin.

“Oryn,” Landers said, his gaze still fixed on mine as a smirk danced at the corners of his lips. “Meet my wife.”

The woman in front of me stilled at the revelation, her eyes widening for a split second before wildly thrashing against my shadows. They tightened around her, pulling her body upright and forcing her to stand before me.

Andrues and Azeyer dragged the High Priest into the light, and panic flared over his face as his eyes locked on mine.

“Where is the other High Priestess?” I asked, taking a step toward the two bound leaders. “I can hear her whimpering, cowering around here somewhere.”

Essara slipped from the shadows as the question fell from my mouth. The High Priestess didn’t thrash against her, didn’t try to escape, only smiled up at me with a genuine, sickening smile.

“What’s your name?” I asked as she blinked up at me.

“I’m Sovana, and that’s Varah. Obviously you already know Oryn—”

“Kill them,” Ata snarled, cutting Sovana off.

Sovana giggled as she looked from Ata to me. “You can’t kill us. We’re protected.”

My eyes narrowed. “By who?”

“Our Queen—the only Queen. We answer only to her and she protects us, gives us the power to do her bidding. You answer to her too.” Her smile deepened as she looked up at me, her eyes frenzied and blazing with unsettling, uncontrolled energy. “Which means you answer to us, as her representatives.”

“Do you know who I am?” I asked, my head tilting toward her.

She nodded enthusiastically. “You’re the half-breed.”

“The half-breed . . .” I whispered, almost to myself, as Essara and Azeyr’s backs went rigid.

“No, that is not who I am.” I took a step closer to her, shadows lifting her chin up to my gaze as magic pulsed through the air.

“My name is Hyacinth; Takaris, Mother of the People, daughter of Asrai, the Mother of Bloodshed and the blood of Elianca, granddaughter of the Alpha and Omega. I do not answer to you—to anyone other than my people.”

The hall fell silent, like Nimbria was holding her breath as my words seeped into the very marrow of the realm.

“I understand now . . .” Awe threaded through Sovana’s voice as she looked up at me.

“They are here—”

A deafening explosion shook the foundation of the House of High, sending tremors through our bodies as Varah’s words tumbled into oblivion. The walls began to crumble around us as scores of living dead, mezzen, and all kinds of foul creatures poured into the collapsing room.

Screams from the nobles flooded the air, drowned out by the tearing of flesh and screeching of creatures. Tragi filled the skies and I watched as dragons launched themselves from the balcony, joining the aerial battle and painting the sky with fire and blood.

The scent of blood clung to the air like thick smoke, choking me as I staggered forward.

The screams—some of agony, others of rage—clashed with the metallic clang of steel against steel, the wet, sickening sound of flesh being torn apart.

The crumbling fortress was chaos incarnate, a storm of bodies colliding, weapons slicing through the air, and magic igniting the darkness with bursts of searing light.

Landers turned to me, his eyes wild as he flicked his wrist toward a hoard of living dead. Violet matter shot from his fingers like daggers, decapitating every creature surrounding us.

More poured over their broken bodies, trampling the corpses as they rushed us.

They did not stop coming.

A roar of rage exploded from my chest, my magic shooting outward in a shockwave that sent the hoards stumbling back. Shadows whipped around me like a maelstrom as I advanced on them, cutting through every creature.

My heart beat at a frantic pace as I took in the carnage.

They knew. They knew our plan again .

My head whipped around the House of High’s skeletal frame, wind and light pouring in through the jagged openings exposing the open air.

Where was Wren?

I spotted him, fighting beside Andrues. Fighting with us.

He couldn’t have done this. He wouldn’t.

Sovana’s laughter cut through the chaos, and my gaze caught on her figure dancing through the army of creatures. She looked at me, her eyes wide with exhilaration. She reveled in the destruction, her manic cackles rising above the din of battle.

My power reached for her, stopping only inches from her skin. I willed it to push through whatever shield she had erected around her body but it would not break through.

“You see?” she shouted, grinning at me. “Our Queen protects us.”

A shriek pierced through the air, and my stomach bottomed out.

I knew who that sound belonged to.

Ata.

My head snapped in her direction as I unleashed another devastating wave of power. The creatures blocking my path to her instantly incinerated, their ashes scattering in the wind.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as another of her screams vibrated through the air. My boots slid against the blood-slicked ground, nearly losing my footing as I raced toward her.

She came into view just as Dukovich bolted in front of her, blocking the strike of a mezzen’s razor-sharp claws.

Daggered talons sunk into Dukovich’s chest, tearing through flesh before my magic could stop it.

A wail poured from Ata’s lungs as his body collapsed into her arms. Blood poured from the open gashes, spurting from his lips as he coughed against the pain.

“Help him!” she cried up at me, tears cutting through the crimson dripping down her face.

My vision blurred at the sight, bile shooting up my throat as the memory crashed back into me with solid force.

I had been here before, holding Ardan in my arms as he choked on his own blood.

“Cin! Please!” Her scream cut through the memory as another swell of living dead poured into the ruins. I ran the final distance toward her as tears began to stream from my own eyes. My legs collapsed under me as I fell to her side and took in the severity of his wounds.

A sob tore from her lungs, “Please, please don’t let him die. Please.”

I didn’t know how to help her—how to help him. But I had to try.

My hands fell to his chest, slipping over the raw flesh and flowing blood as I swallowed back the pain of the memory that haunted my vision. My hands began to glow, sapphire magic pulsing under my palms as my tears fell onto his unconscious body.

All I could do was pray, demand, beg the gods not to take another person away from her.

Fresh skin began to slither from his chest, growing over the cuts as Dukovich’s eyes shot open.

He gasped for air, panting as I forced myself to focus.