Page 43

Chapter

Forty-Three

W ind blasts against us as we circle above the city. The roaring sound of it makes speaking to each other impossible. Thorne’s arms are tight around me as I cling to him with all my strength. The other times he took me into the sky with him, I was too weak and disoriented to really appreciate the experience. This time, I find myself wishing that was the case.

I squeeze my eyes shut as Thorne takes us higher. The air is thinner up here, making it difficult to breathe. Cracking one eye open, I glance down and immediately regret it. Solmare is barely visible beneath us. A thick layer of fog hovers over the city, distorting everything. The moment I realize how far off the ground we are, my entire body tenses, and I shove my face into the crook of Thorne’s neck again.

His body shakes as he laughs against me. I want to smack him, but I don’t dare move at this height. My indignation is slightly mitigated by the feeling of his large hand gently rubbing against my back. Dampness settles in my eyes, and I tell myself it’s just a side effect of the wind as I nuzzle deeper into his warmth.

“There,” he says directly into my ear.

Before I can ask what he means, we’re suddenly diving toward the city. My stomach falls into my throat and I can’t stop the scream that forces its way out of me. Black feathers curl around us, tickling my nose as we fall through the sky. Each second brings us closer to the hard ground. Just as quickly as it began, our steep decent screeches to a halt as Thorne spreads his wings wide.

“Don’t ever do that again!” My throat burns as I shout over the raging wind.

“No promises, Angel.” His lips brush over my ear, and a shiver passes through me that has nothing to do with the chilly night air. “Over there.”

Pulling my face out of his neck, I scan his features and realize he’s staring at something below us. I swallow my rising fear and peek down. Squinting through the fog, I catch a brief glimpse of horses galloping across the bridge that separates the Dockside District from the rest of the city.

“It’s time,” I whisper, too quiet for even my own ears to hear over the heavy breeze.

Thorne carries us lower—thankfully, not diving this time. His wings glide gracefully over the currents of air as we descend, coming to a stop in an alley between two brick buildings. The moment his feet land on solid ground, I release my death grip and unwrap my legs from his waist as I throw myself onto the cobblestone. I’ve never been so grateful for the existence of gravity.

“Not a fan of flying?” Thorne asks, an undeniable edge of humor in his tone.

I narrow my eyes. “I wasn’t built for the skies.”

“Really?” He arches a playful brow. “I rather enjoyed the way you clung to me.”

I open my mouth to respond, but the biting words die on my tongue as footsteps pull our attention to the left. The others appear at the mouth of the alley, silently filing into the narrow opening.

My brows pull together. “Where are the horses?”

“We figured they’d be too conspicuous, so we left them a few blocks away,” Fia whispers, her eyes scanning for threats.

“Glad to see you survived the flight.” Griffen grins in my direction as they all join us in the back corner, Della and Darrow appearing slightly out of place among the odd group.

“It was a close call,” Thorne answers for me, earning him a scowl.

“It will be a close call for you if you ever take me up there again,” I grumble.

“Please settle down,” Darrow says, his lip curling with disgust at the sight of mud staining the hem of his velvet trousers. “I don’t want to have to be the responsible one here.”

I roll my eyes. “Trust me, no one thought you were.”

He sends me a glare as Della speaks up for the first time since they arrived.

“What’s our plan?” she asks, a small hint of fear underneath her even one.

While Della knows how to handle a weapon, she isn’t a warrior. She can fight off an enemy if she has to, but she’s never taken on a large group of them. My palms grow damp at the thought of her having to swing the sword strapped to her hip. I should never have gotten her involved in any of this…

Thorne steps forward, taking charge as our small group circles around him. Fia hangs back, keeping watch at the front of the alley with a crossbow in her arms. Strapped to her back is a cylindrical container full of arrows. I’ve trained with a bow before, and I’m a fairly decent shot, but I’ve never worked with one like hers. My fingers itch at the thought of pulling the trigger. Perhaps she’ll let me borrow hers sometime?

“Our destination is one block over,” Thorne tells us, his features once again shifting into the emotionless mask he so often wears around others. “We stick together as a group, and no one breaks formation. Assume anyone who approaches us is an enemy.”

“What do we do if the Forsaken join us?” Della asks.

“Oh, they’re definitely going to show up,” Griffen chimes in, his fingers resting on the pommel of his broadsword.

“Go for the kill,” Thorne answers coldly.

My stomach churns. Memories surface of the alley lined with the dead bodies of the Forsaken. In my mind, their faces morph with those of my friends, shifting into Alva, Morwen, and Remy. The thought of hurting one of them is unbearable.

“Shouldn’t the goal be to incapacitate them?” Della argues, mirroring the thoughts running through my own mind. “They are innocent people, after all.”

I glance at the others. The carefree gleam that usually shines in Griffen’s eyes is nowhere to be found. Instead, I find only determination, as if he’s preparing himself to do whatever must be done. Surprise flares through me as I take in Darrow’s down-turned eyes and clenched jaw.

“Whatever they were before is gone now,” he whispers. “None of them are innocent anymore.”

“But it’s not their fault,” I insist as something hot and ugly roils in my gut. “It makes them do those things. It controls them.”

“This isn’t the same as what Baylor does to you with the collar,” Thorne says, not unkindly. “Whoever they once were is gone now. They’d kill their own family if the sword told them to, and they’d do it with a smile on their face.” His gaze moves around the group, landing on each one of us. “If they approach, we don’t hesitate to end their lives.”

I blanch at his words.

“I told you, Ivy,” he says softy, a flash of emotion rippling behind his pale eyes. “I’m not good like you.”

That night in my room, he said the lines he’s willing to cross would shock me. Is this what he meant?

The situation is ambiguous. They’re our enemies, but not by choice. I wrestle with the rising tide of guilt that threatens to swallow me whole. My hands are stained red by the lives I’ve taken, but most of those weren’t my decision. Not the innocent ones, at least. I held the blade, but Baylor issued the commands.

This is different.

There’s no way to absolve myself this time. No one is forcing my hand. If I choose to kill these people, the weight of that decision will rest on my shoulders alone.

“Couldn’t we at least try to knock them out or something?” I suggest as I grasp for some loophole. “Hurt them just enough to make them back down?”

“You could try,” Darrow says softly, meeting my gaze for the first time since this conversation began. “But consider what might happen if you fail.”

Ice drips down the back of my neck as his meaning settles in.

Failure means death. Not only mine, but my friends as well. The whole city maybe. If we don’t stop the almanova , how far will the Forsaken spread? Am I willing to slaughter these innocents to spare everyone else?

I thought I knew each dark corner of my soul, but apparently, I was wrong. It turns out there are still new facets of myself left to discover, all of them just as ugly as the rest. But is it really new? I ask myself. Isn’t this who I’ve always been? Someone willing to do the hard things and live with the consequences.

My jaw clenches as resolve settles over me. I don’t have to revel in the lives I’m going to take tonight; I only have to accept that it’s necessary. Cassandra’s haunting comments from the ball drift back to me again.

The truth cannot be fought, child. Only accepted.

Determination mixes with shame as I force myself to meet Thorne’s gaze. “I can do it.”

He nods, watching me for a few moments before addressing the group again. “We need to move.”

We establish our formation quickly, positioning Thorne and me at the front of our small group with Della and Darrow right behind us. Fia and Griffen bring up our rear. The night air ripples, growing thicker as Thorne’s shadows settle around us. While they don’t hide our party completely, they do provide a small degree of camouflage as we move into the open street.

The quiet of the Lowers is eerie and unnatural. At least half of the streetlamps are out since the city doesn’t bother refilling the oil that fuels their flames. That kind of privilege is reserved for the wealthier districts, leaving Dockside to rely on moonlight to chase away the darkness.

As we round the corner, stepping onto the street where the gray house waits for us, an icy chill runs down the back of my neck. It turns my blood cold even as the collar flares with warmth. The hairs on my arms stand on end, telling me we’re being watched.

“Are you guys seeing this?” Della whispers behind me.

Glancing over my shoulder, I find her gaze locked on one of the nearby houses. The windows are boarded up, but between the gaps in the wood several pairs of eyes watch us without blinking.

“They’re over here too,” Fia says, pulling our attention to a house on the other side of the street.

Dread curdles in my stomach as I scan the surrounding homes, finding the same situation at each one. There must be dozens of people watching us. “They’re everywhere.”

“What’s the plan here?” Fia asks as she aims her crossbow at one of the windows, her finger resting against the trigger.

“We don’t engage unless we have to,” Thorne orders from beside me as a muscle flexes in his jaw. “We stick together and keep moving. As long as they stay inside, they aren’t our problem.”

His gaze finds mine, holding it for a moment before we’re forced to continue on our path. We push onward, but the sound of scraping metal has me glancing over my shoulder. Darrow unsheathes a thin rapier, its gold handle encrusted with emeralds the size of my eyeballs. His blond curls are held back by a ribbon and his white long-sleeve shirt is untucked. I can’t help but notice that he’s leaning into the pirate theme lately. Shaking my head, I shift my attention forward again.

Only twenty yards stand between us and our destination when Griffen’s voice breaks the silence. “Looks like they just became our problem, boss.”

My forehead wrinkles as I turn to ask what he means, only to be halted by the sight of dozens of people filing out of the nearby houses. They flood the streets from every angle, boxing us in from the sides and at our backs, leaving only a ten-foot-wide trail leading to the grey house.

“It’s like a parade,” Darrow murmurs before grunting as Della elbows him in the ribs.

“Shut up,” she whispers.

Thorne edges closer to me as he takes in the situation. If I didn’t already know things were bad, the sight of fear clouding his eyes would leave me with no doubts about our current state. My fingers curl tightly around the cool metal of the blades I hold in each hand.

“Stay in formation,” Thorne orders, the side of his arm pressing into mine. “We’re almost there.”

Fear pierces my chest as I take in the sheer number of Forsaken surrounding us. Every instinct in my body is on high alert as I realize we’re animals caught in a trap.

“We’ve got movement,” Fia calls from behind us.

Apparently, we aren’t walking fast enough for them because the ones at our backs have begun edging closer.

“They’re herding us,” I whisper as claustrophobia traps the air in my lungs and tightens my bruised trachea. Old fears surface, making me feel as though imaginary walls are closing in around us. The taste of dirt fills my mouth. In my mind, I’m choking once more as I claw out of my own grave.

“Stay with me, Angel.” Thorne’s voice pulls me back to the present. “I need you to hold on.”

I swallow, nodding as I meet his worried gaze. He holds my stare for a few seconds before dropping it. With the enemy closing in at our backs, we’re forced to increase our pace. Our feet hasten over the jagged cobblestone. Della nearly trips on an uneven area, but Darrow’s quick hand reaches out to steady her. I keep my gaze on the Forsaken, hating how familiar some of their faces are. I recognize several of them from my time at the pub, but now their eyes burn with hatred as their lips twist into cruel, taunting smiles.

“Watch them,” Thorne commands. “If any Forsaken makes a move, you put them down. No hesitation.”

I steel myself, pushing aside whatever pity I may harbor for these poor souls. Mercy has no place here tonight. There’s no one to avenge, no one to save. Tonight is about one thing.

Death.

In this moment, I desperately wish I could summon an illusion to help me slip through this crowd of enemies. I’ve been stripped bare of my most valuable weapon. All I have now are the blades strapped to my body.

And years’ worth of muscle memory and fighting instincts, I remind myself.

Sure, I’ve never taken on this many enemies at once, but I’ve also never had a group of allies at my side either. I may be without my illusions, but I’m not alone.

As one, the Forsaken shift their attention away from us, their heads snapping in unison toward the gray house. It’s almost as if they share some sort of hive mind… But Taron, the one from the alley, was different. He was cruel and violent, but he disobeyed the orders he’d been given when I taunted him. So, while they’ve all been warped and twisted by the almanova , perhaps some of them are able to hold on to a small measure of their own will.

Those thoughts fall away as a dark silhouette passes over the threshold of the gray house, stepping onto the porch. The sword is nowhere to be seen as Grell Darby scans the crowd before him, yet the pulsing heat at my neck tells me it’s close. The former guard looks slightly worse for wear tonight. He’s lost weight, making him appear gaunt as his skin seems to sag off his bones. I suppose being controlled by the almanova for several weeks would be bad for anyone’s health.

“Thank you for delivering the wraith to us,” he says, his deep voice easily carrying over the quiet street. “You’ve saved us the trouble of collecting her ourselves. Send her forward, and we’ll allow the rest of you to leave in peace.”

“Thank you for the kind offer,” Thorne replies coolly. “But we decline.”

Relief wars with guilt as I do my best to show no reaction to Thorne’s words. I didn’t think he’d hand me over to them, but I also know it would be the smartest option.

A smile plays at the corners of Darby’s mouth. “I hoped you’d say that. May the veil welcome your souls.”

“Is it just me,” Griffen mutters behind us, “or does he not seem upset about our refusal?”

My lips twitch, but the amusement promptly fades as Darby turns to the Forsaken, apparently done addressing us.

“My friends,” he calls out. “Tonight, what was broken will be remade. The first pieces will be reunited as we usher in a new era. He thanks you for offering your lives in service to his mission.”

A hand touches my shoulder as Darrow leans forward to whisper in my ear, “If this goes badly, you run. Whatever happens, you can’t let them get the collar.”

My head whips toward him, searching for answers as questions race through my mind. I catch sight of Thorne’s stony expression. A muscle flexes in his jaw as he narrows his eyes at Darrow’s proximity to me.

I’m about to ask the enchanter what the fuck he’s talking about when movement from the Forsaken steals my attention. Chills skate across my skin as they each raise their right foot and stomp it against the ground in unison.

Darby’s fevered gaze settles on me once more. “It’s time.”

The words set everything into motion. As one, the Forsaken begin closing in on us. They prowl forward, their faces twisted with loathing. Just like in the alley, their weapons are a mix of blades and other crude objects. It’s as if they’ve armed themselves with whatever they had lying around. My mouth goes dry as my attention catches on a tall man clutching a mallet. The idea of him using it to crack open my friend’s skulls makes my teeth grind. I bend my knees and press my back against Thorne’s as I prepare for the incoming swarm. They’ve almost reached us when their advance is suddenly halted.

A great wall of fire springs to life, its flames roaring as they ignite in a circle around our group and drive back the Forsaken. Several of them scream as the blaze licks their skin, filling the air with the smell of burning flesh. Heat snatches the oxygen from my lungs, warming my body instantly.

“That was…” I trail off, unable to describe the sight before us.

“Impressive?” Thorne suggests at my side, one eyebrow raised as he stares down at me. “Awe inspiring?”

I give him a bland look. “Perfectly average is what I was going to say.”

One corner of his mouth kicks up in a half smile. “I’m sure.”

The amusement fades quickly as the reality of our situation presses in. “I need to get inside.”

He shakes his head, his eyes glued to mine. “You aren’t going alone.”

My jaw clenches at his commanding tone.

“To be fair,” Griffen pipes in as he squeezes to the center of our small group, “I don’t think any of us are moving anytime soon.”

Ignoring the blond fae, I keep my focus on Thorne. “Can you fly us over the flames? We could try to enter through the roof?”

He opens his mouth, but before he can speak, Fia steals our attention. She stands at the back of our huddle, her face frozen with horror as she looks toward the other houses.

“Archers!” she cries. “Get down!”

My head whips toward the sky, where I spot a dozen arrows heading straight for us.