Page 7 of The Princesses of Ruin (The Princesses of Ruin #5)

Chapter seven

Emillia

T he alchemist hardens his jaw and nods. “The Spiders are capable. You should ride south off the main road to avoid this confrontation.”

“Avoid it?” I laugh. “Fighting’s the next best thing to fucking, Adrik.”

His high, pale cheeks brighten with pink. “You’re the captain. Your vessel needs you.”

“And if these Spiders are as capable as you say, I’ll be safest right here with the convoy,” I say, loving the way he squirms at the obvious logic. He mumbles something in Seterian along the lines of hoping he’s right, and focuses his gaze on the ipsain.

Just up the road, the heartbeats of those lying in wait are fast, and excited. I turn my focus on them and the gentle patter of soft-soled shoes leaping across ashy cobblestones. My mind’s eye turns the sounds into images with ease, a rainbow of chromesthesia before me.

I watch the six assassins dash down the alley ahead of us. They haven’t detected Andrew and his two soldiers following in the alley parallel, but even his quiet, magic spider legs can’t escape my magus sense .

I pull my pistol and cock the hammer, listening for the assassin in the lead who thinks they’re well-hidden with their magic. I can’t see him with my eyes, but my ears know exactly where he breathes.

The donkey passes the alley, but the assassins are waiting to spring their trap until they have our backs. I slow my horse, ensuring Adrik is obscured from view, and take aim at the assassin’s nose in a flash, trusting my magic to guide my hand.

The trigger snaps back and the hammer bangs down on the loaded shell. There’s a wet thwack and a body materializes in a spray of pink that coats the morning mist. In a blink, the five assassins behind him become visible, all frozen on the spot for a fraction of a breath.

Then they charge.

Their eyes ooze black smoke, as do their open mouths as they scream a war cry as one. I turn my horse to face them head-on and fire on the next assassin. My bullet carves a path across a shield that shimmers like the night, diverting away from my target and embedding in the burnt pillar beside him.

“Well, that’s a problem,” I mutter, holstering my pistol.

A Spider jumps in front of the lead attacker, burying a blade in his gut. He doesn’t go down, though, grasping Andrew’s soldier by the throat. The black in his mouth surges into the Spider’s exposed eyes.

Teal magic zips through the air like a spear from ahead, but it fizzles in a shower of icy sparkles against the black shield enveloping the two. The Spider screams as the dark ooze infiltrates their mask and surges down their throat.

What in the fuck am I witnessing?

“Go!” Andrew bellows to the wagon driver as the remaining assassins dodge around the convulsing soldier .

The driver slaps the reins on the donkey’s back and the creature brays, then takes off at a faster trot. I watch them go, my gaze catching Adrik’s as he jostles with the rough ride. He’ll be fine.

Two more infected assassins lurch forward, and I rear my horse, hitting the first one square on the chest with a powerful kick. They fall back into the next man, but the last in the alley evades the bodies and keeps coming—

Straight for me .

Andrew’s teal spider leg snaps out, batting the runner back. His magic hits their dark shield, rendering the assassin uninjured, but the hit makes him stagger.

Chaos ensues.

The Spiders descend on the would-be ambushers, but each of our enemies is equipped with one of the blackened shields that deflect all magic. The soldier infected with the black ooze turns, fighting beside the assassins.

“Go with the wagon!” Andrew yells, his glowing eyes locked on me.

“Do you even know me?” I ask, drawing my urictsa saber. Let’s see their fancy shield deflect the cutting power of an anti-magic blade.

I swing down on the next attacker, and my sword slices into their magic barrier, but doesn’t fully penetrate it.

What in the nine hells?

The man reaches for me, his hands covered in the same black goop that infected the other Spider.

I pull my foot from the stirrup and kick him in the face, but not before his hands rake down my thigh.

Searing pain, like plunging into the frigid sea, takes hold of my leg.

I cry out as I look down at the creeping blackness seeping through the bloody gouges in my pants .

A quiet tink breaks through the din of combat and I look up.

Adrik is standing in the road, a grenade held high, pin pulled.

He throws the weapon at the man crouched on the ground beside me.

I gasp, turning my horse. With one leg out of the stirrup, I lose my balance at the sharp jerk of the steed.

I fall, my lungs aching as the wind is knocked from my chest.

The grenade hits the ash-covered cobblestones beside the assassin who’s crouched, ready to pounce on me. The metal snaps open like a blossom, revealing radiant blue light that burns my eyes.

I’ve seen this light before…

The assassin wails like a banshee and blackness whips out of him like an injured predator seeking a place to hide. The man crumples to the ground, while the dark ooze zips off into the sky.

“Zane, Reina’s magic!” Adrik yells as he runs toward me.

The pain in my thigh flares anew as it climbs up into my hip. I grip the spot, pressing down on my leg as if I can stop the spread of this poison, whatever it is. Adrik slides across the ashy ground and kneels beside me.

“This will hurt,” he says.

I want to say something funny, but the agony delivers only grunts to my lips. Tears gather unbidden in my eyes, and I watch a blurry Adrik pull something from his coat pocket. It’s cylindrical, metal, and wide, but I can’t ascertain what it is. He holds one end over the gouge in my leg.

“Breathe,” he says, pinning my thigh down.

I take a deep, gasping breath, but he hesitates.

His eyes dart between the tool in his hand and the cut on my leg, then lock on me. “This is untested.”

“Do it,” I growl.

His jaw flexes and he looks back at the wound with a determined glare.

Blue light spears in a concentrated beam from the end of the device and lances my leg.

I throw back my head and let my pain be known to the world.

Then the ice in my blood turns to fire. I sense anger that is not my own alongside the agony, as if something—some sentient being—was in that black ooze.

I look down at my leg and watch the dark goop bleed out of me like it had the assassin. Adrik sighs in relief, his hand squeezing my thigh.

Flashes of blue light go off around us and the air is filled with a chorus of inhuman shrieks. When the last of the poison is lifted from my body, the black coalesces into a winged shape, like a crow. Its beak points toward me and it rushes forward.

Silver shings through the air, slicing the attack in two. The severed pieces of magic bird fall to the ground with a splat, then bubble into nothingness.

Adrik’s hand trembles on the hilt of my saber. He looks at me. “Are you all right?”

My heart thunders in my ears, and my vision narrows on his sharp, angular face. His eyes are a bright blue with a starburst of gold around his dilated pupils. What a surprising combination for his dark, wavy locks and pale skin.

“Search the bodies,” Andrew says, cutting through my trance.

I glance around at the carnage. There are several dead assassins and one in Andrew’s custody. A sharp sting draws my attention back to my leg and I grimace. “Well, I’m still bleeding out, but otherwise…” I shrug.

Adrik’s eyes widen as he looks down at my thigh. “ Yebat! ”

He fumbles the metal cylinder, dropping it on my lap as he reaches for a pouch on his hip.

“My apologies, Captain,” he says, opening a container of green, sharp-smelling gel.

He curses again in Seterian and pulls out a clean cloth and a bottle of clear liquid.

I grunt out a pained laugh, and he glances at me in a panic while dousing his fingers in the alcohol.

He sanitizes his hands before scooping a large glob of the gel onto his fingers. He hesitates again, opening his mouth to say something silly like “this is going to hurt” because of course it will, so I save him the trouble.

I grab his wrist and push his hand down onto my cuts. He sucks in a sharp breath, and I groan into the feeling of cool, healing paste touching my flayed flesh. His eyes skate between mine, and I smile as best as I can.

“Not my first battle,” I say.

His eyebrows shoot up, wrinkling his forehead. “This I can see.”

The sharp pain turns to a dull ache as his fingers slide up and down my thigh.

The relief is so strong I can’t help but groan again.

Adrik’s cheeks turn a deeper shade than before, and he wets his lips, his gaze intent on my leg.

The magic paste stitches the wounds but leaves three pink scars behind.

“Thank you,” I say, trying to lure his eyes back to mine.

“I would do this for anyone,” he says.

“You’d throw yourself into harm’s way and cut down a malicious spell for just anyone ?” I tease.

He clears his throat and pulls his hand back. “Yes, of course.”

He wipes his gelled fingers on his pants as he stands, keeping his gaze pointed firmly away from my face. “You will have scars. They were deep cuts infected with Ashai’s magic, but you are healed.”

He turns away in a hurry, leaving his little blue fire cylinder.

I pluck it off my lap and inspect the device.

It has a lever on the side that seems to control an iris opening at the tip.

I’m tempted to pull the lever and see if it fires another beam of Reina’s blue magic.

Try as she had to hide it from me, it was easy to see from my ship as it blasted from the titan’s mouth.

Her scarred body, licked by flames, was evidence of her magic being the culprit.

It had banished the dark cloud of Ashai’s magic that hung over the palace.

And now it’s weaponized for anyone to wield. They’re truly going to build an army to kill a goddess. Perhaps there’s still hope for my family…

Andrew steps up beside me, the reins of my horse in his hand. There’s a tiny smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth. “Knocked off your horse? I thought you had good balance?”

“Sea legs aren’t horse legs,” I say, shooting him a nasty gesture.

He snorts, something that could’ve been a laugh. He’s become so stoic in his old age.

“Well, are you a gentleman?” I ask, reaching my hand out for help.

“I left that life behind.” He grimaces but pulls me up anyway.

I take the reins and look around at the quiet soldiers rolling over bodies for loot. “Seems like your new life is more trouble than it’s worth.”

“The future we will build is worth it,” he says, the tenor of his voice strong with an undercurrent of challenge.

I nod and pat his shoulder. “Let’s hope that ipsain didn’t blow up the wagon, or that bright future of yours is kaput.”