Page 78 of The Sins of Silas (The Otacian Chronicles #2)

Chapter Seventy-Eight

LENA

W e were setting up our bedrolls when Edmund rushed up the steps, panting. Blood stained his clothes.

“What the fuck happened?” Roland exclaimed just as Elowen rushed to him, assessing if there were any wounds.

His chest was rising and falling. “I’m sorry,” his voice broke, his face crumpling. “I-I couldn’t save them…”

Viola and Roland rushed to the windows, eyes darting outside to check for threats.

I gaped at him, noting that Merrick and Hendry were nowhere to be seen. “Save them?” I asked lowly.

“Where is Merrick?” Elowen’s voice trembled as she grasped his shoulders.

Torrin's face crumpled, his hand flying over his mouth as he read Edmund's mind.

No.

Elowen's big blue eyes skated over Edmund’s face, searching for an answer. “Where is Merrick, Edmund?!” Elowen shouted, shaking him.

“El…t-they slit his throat—” Edmund choked on a sob, and Elowen’s eyes widened.

No. This cannot be.

I clutched my chest. “He's dead?!” I cried.

“No…no…” Elowen collapsed to the ground, a gut-wrenching cry escaping her.

“There was no time,” he insisted.

“NO!” she wailed.

“I’m so sorry, El…” Edmund went to touch her arm, and she flinched backward, glaring at him.

“I could have saved him!” she screamed, and I watched as ice began to creep up her arms. “You could have gotten me, and—”

“There is no time,” he barked, grasping her freezing arms. “Elowen, we have to go! They are coming!”

“Where is Hendry?” Silas demanded.

Tears coursed down Edmund's cheeks when he met eyes with the Prince. “They killed him.”

“No,” Roland whispered, tearing his gaze from the window. “No. H-he has to be alright—”

“An arrow went straight through his chest!” Edmund cried. “They are both dead! We have to go!”

I couldn't think. I couldn't process it.

And then there was Era.

Her expression was…blank. Her body was completely still. Utterly emotionless, yet her eyes were filled with tears, and they poured down her face.

“We have to go get him,” Elowen wept. “We have to—”

An arrow shot through one of the windows, shattering the glass and grazing Silas’s arm as he shoved me out of the way.

“Lena, we need to teleport!” Torrin yelled, ducking down.

“We can't leave him!” Elowen howled, ice creeping up her chest. “I won't go!”

“Elowen—” Torrin began moving toward her with his flame, but multiple objects were tossed into the sanctuary from the pronaos, exploding as they hit the ground. Purple dust filled the room, and my stomach sank when I realized what just happened.

“GRAB YOUR WEAPONS!” I yelled, already feeling the effects of the siaxcide, my magic fading from me.

I rushed to grab my blade—my scabbard beside Era on the bench. She roughly grabbed my wrist as I reached for it.

My eyes shot to hers, burning with rage as I took in her emotionless form. “What are you doing?!” I hissed.

It was all I could get out until I felt something hit the back of my head. Hard.

Suddenly, the world went black.

When I awoke, the first thing I noticed was cuffs around my wrists. My eyes shot wide, and when I forced myself up, wincing from my head pain, a sword was quickly at my throat.

All of us had been knocked out, sitting on the floor of the temple with bound wrists and blades held at our necks.

All of us, except Erabella.

Slowly, we were all gaining consciousness again.

“What’s going on?” I hissed .

A soldier, one in Halstedian armor, replied, “The Princess here let us know of your whereabouts.” He gestured to her sitting frame. “We’ve been tracking you ever since.”

“What…how…” I shook my head, my watery eyes meeting Era’s apathetic ones as I turned to look behind me. “You didn’t. You wouldn't.”

“She did.” The man motioned to one of the soldiers, and the one holding a blade to Silas grasped his arm, pulling him to his feet.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

They ordered him to sit in front of the altar at the head of the room. His golden eyes flitted to mine, a look I couldn't pinpoint as he stared at me.

“Why have you attacked us?” Silas asked, his voice unusually steady as he walked up the few steps and sat against the wooden altar.

“We have orders from King Ulric.”

I bared my teeth, and as I went to stand, the soldier holding me pressed his blade deeper against my throat.

“Do not move, Lena,” Silas ordered.

Tears filled my eyes as the man before him withdrew his sword. Dark shadows swirled at its tip.

We all gasped. “What are you doing?!” I repeated.

“Silas La’Rune, you are hereby charged with treason,” the man stated as he aimed his blade at him. “Your punishment is execution.” He tilted the weapon, the shadows moving as if there were life to them. “The Undead’s curse has touched this sword. No witch will be able to save you.”

“NO!” I screamed, thrashing against the man who was detaining me. The sword pressed against my throat, drawing blood. “Please, please don’t do this—”

Silas went to move, and the man behind me quickly said, “Try anything, and we slit her throat.”

Silas's jaw tensed, and his back relaxed against the altar.

“Silas, no!” I cried.

“Don't touch him!” Roland barked.

“Don't!” Viola wept.

The person holding the cursed blade tilted it, examining the dark magic before his eyes flitted to the Prince. “May the Gods have mercy on your soul.”

Immediately, I began to panic and tried lashing out of the soldier’s grip, even as his blade pressed against me.

“PLEASE!” I begged. “Gods, kill me instead! I will take his place, please…” I cried. “Please, don't hurt him!”

But the soldier didn't listen to my pleas. He only smiled before plunging the cursed sword into Silas’s chest.