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AERI

THE STRAIT OF TEETH

T his is all wrong. The lamps are lit in the room, and two palace archers stand across from us with crossbows at their shoulders.

I have one second to absorb that we walked into a trap before bolts fly.

One hits Fremo directly in the chest, and another is off aim.

It strikes Teo in the thigh. Teo goes down on his knee with a groan.

But the bolt that hits Fremo must pierce his lung, because he starts spitting up blood.

He staggers forward, remaining on his feet to try to fight as crimson drips down his chin.

It’s so very brave.

The six rebels he picked rush at the archers as they reload. I want to sprint forward, but I’m trapped behind Mikail and Royo, who stand still.

We’re all inside the cabin, but the room is L-shaped—we can’t see around the corner until we get past the archers. Two more guards come out of nowhere and attack the rebels.

I gasp as the space becomes a frenzy of blades and blood.

The palace guards are armored in steel while we don’t even have leathers. It’s not close to a fair fight.

A guard swings his sword, and Fremo blocks the blade, but he doesn’t see the second one coming.

With a slash of another sword, Fremo collapses to the ground, a huge gash spanning from his neck to his chest, exposing white bone and sinew.

He shakes and gasps as blood pools on the wood floor, but I can’t do anything but watch as the light leaves his eyes. All in a matter of seconds.

Mikail’s face goes ashen, and then his sword flames to life. He tosses the scepter to me and joins the fray. It buzzes in my palm like a trapped bee, bound to Mikail but tempting anyhow.

Royo drops his axe and pulls me behind him as I try to rush forward.

I struggle to break free, but his hands have me in a vise grip.

I know he cares. I know he doesn’t want me involved, but he needs to let me go.

I can use my relics to end this. The ring and amulet vibrate to the point of shaking me, but I’m afraid to use them when Royo has my wrists and I can barely see around him.

Will I have control, or will I accidentally kill our men?

I can’t risk finding out.

Instead, two more rebels die anyway, their bodies crashing onto the floor. That much, I can see.

Royo uses one hand to pick up his axe, and I get out from behind him. He grabs my wrist again. I stand to Royo’s side just in time to see one of the archers reload his crossbow. He shoots, and another rebel falls.

But Mikail joining the fight evens the odds. He runs his sword through a guard, then engages another, moving as fast and fluid as he always does.

Yet the other rebels are struggling, and Royo and I are doing nothing. He moves from side to side, searching for a threat, but I don’t need protection—the rebels do. Calier is also standing guard by his brother despite Teo trying to wave him off.

Blood soaks his black pant leg, but Teo grits his teeth. With one pull, he yanks the bolt out of his thigh. Then he stands and raises his sword.

I look at Royo, so angry I could burst. “I didn’t come here to sit like a doll on a shelf. Let go of me now .”

I stare at him, fully resolved. Expressions war on his face until he relents, dropping my arm.

By the time I’m free, it’s too late. Nearly all the fighters are dead. The archers, five rebels, and both palace guards bleed out on the ground.

Tears sting my eyes as I take in the scene, but it’s not sadness—it’s frustration. I didn’t help. I didn’t save anyone. I put all my hurt, all my useless anger into the stare I give Royo.

He looks away.

Mikail and Duval breathe hard. They’re the last men standing from the fray. Duval looks like Tiyung right now—shocked at what he just did—but when Fremo died, something changed. He went from being a boy to hacking like a butcher.

I know the feeling.

At Mikail’s signal, the four of us, plus Calier and Teo, make our way around the corner in a sweeping motion. I hold my breath, my heart pounding. I carry the scepter but put out my other hand, bracing for an attack.

It doesn’t come.

Mikail pulls up short as we reach the end of the room. Standing at the back wall by the bed are four people: two palace guards with their weapons drawn, my father, and…Hana.

Good gods, what is she doing here?

Her arm is extended. The poison-maiden-turned-spy has her fingers on a rope—the rope for an alarm bell.

Ten Hells, we’re dead.