“From blood and ash!” The muffled shout came from behind the silver mask carved to resemble a wolven. The man charged, his thin steel blade raised high. “We will—”
Cursing, I shoved the sword deep into the man’s chest, ending his life before he hit the floor. I tore my sword free and spun, scanning the horror the Great Hall had become.
Bodies lay scattered about, a sea of crimson fabric and bright, fresh red among the crushed roses and fallen wolven masks. Limbs had been hacked off. Skulls crushed. Chests impaled with arrows. Faces disfigured. People whimpered. Cried out. The Great Hall looked like a battlefield. I turned, spotting a blonde on the floor. Glass jutted from her eye. I knew her.
Dafina.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
I looked at the dais, to where I’d left the Duke. Nothing but ash and a black smear against stone remained of him now.
I had to find Poppy.
She wasn’t in here, nor were Tawny or Vikter, but I knew she wouldn’t be safe even if she had made it to her chambers. The moment this shit started, she would’ve been in the thick of things. The only benefit was that no one would know who she was, which was good. Because if the
Descenters got their hands on her?
Her blood would be spilled.
Spinning around, I left the Hall. Heart pounding, I dragged the back of my hand over my cheek, wiping away the blood splatter.
Fury built with each step, every mortal I passed that lay dead or dying, some attendees and others Descenters. It was never supposed to get this far. None of this should have happened.
I entered the foyer. There were bodies there, too. Someone whimpered. My head cut to the side. A Descenter was crouched in the corner, holding a small blade too large for his hand. A kid. He was just a fucking kid. I didn’t recruit children.
Seething, I turned at the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps.
Lieutenant Smyth strode into the circular chamber, his sword out and dripping blood. Of course, that motherfucker was still alive.
“Do you know where the Maiden is?” I demanded.
He sent me a look as he headed straight for the kid. “She’s secure with the Duchess. No thanks to you, it seems.” He sneered, turning his attention to the boy. I started to leave. “Get up.”
The kid didn’t move.
“Get up and face the sword, you little shit.” Spittle flew from Smyth’s mouth.
A whimper came from behind the mask. He dropped the knife. I glanced at the main hall, my grip tightening on my sword. I didn’t have time for this shit. I needed to get to Poppy.
“Too late for that.” Smyth bent, grabbing a bony arm. He hauled the kid to his feet and shoved him against the wall.
Fuck.
“Rhain awaits.” Smyth drew back his sword. “You piece of—” Snapping forward, I thrust my sword into Smyth’s back.
Smyth jerked free, stumbling to the side, his sword slipping from his hand as he looked down at the jagged tear in the chest of his tunic. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth as he lifted his head.
“Fuck, that felt good,” I said.
“Bastard,” Smyth rasped, falling back against the wall.
“Yeah, well, you’re fucking annoying.” I watched him slide to the floor, the light going out of his eyes. “And now you’re dead. Whatever.”
The kid stood frozen.
“You need to get the hell out of here.” I approached him, grabbing the side of the mask. With a swift motion, I broke the strap, revealing his face. A shock of surprise hit me—it wasn’t a boy. It was a girl. The same one I’d seen outside the meatpacking warehouse the day Kieran had made a new friend out of Lord Devries. Damn gods. I leaned down, meeting her wide, terrified eyes. I tossed the mask aside, watching as it shattered at the base of the Penellaphe statue. The child flinched. “Go. Now.”
She stared at me for a moment longer, then spun around and bolted, her twig-thin legs and bare feet carrying her away as fast as possible.
“Gods,” I spat. I was going to need a long talk with Mac.
I left the foyer, picking up speed as I entered the hall. Every few feet, there were fallen guards and Descenters. As I neared the end of the corridor, the sound of swords clashing rang out, followed by a sudden silence.
Then I heard Poppy scream, “No!”
Every hair on my body stood on end as I took off, moving faster than the human eye could track. I saw that one of the greeting room doors was open. A wounded Descenter stood in the doorway. Beyond him, I caught sight of Vikter’s familiar weathered face—but something was wrong. Even as I raced forward, vaulting over a settee, I could tell. His sun-warmed skin was drained of all color.
Several other guards flooded in, but I crossed the space as the bloodied Descenter jerked a sword back, tearing it free of—
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Slowing, I arced the sword high, cleaving the Descenter’s head from his body. I couldn’t even say who else was in the chamber.
I only saw what I’d brought upon Poppy, not by my hand but by my actions.
She was on her knees beside Vikter, her hands pressed against his chest.
Blood pumped between her fingers as Vikter’s chest rose too fast, his breaths too shallow. That wound. All that blood. My lips parted as I lowered my sword. This was not what I’d planned.
“No,” Poppy said, and the horror in that one word. The sorrow…
My eyes closed as pressure clamped down on my chest. I didn’t want this.
“No. No. No,” Poppy repeated, and I opened my eyes. “No. Gods, no.
Please. You’re okay. Please—”
“I’m sorry,” Vikter rasped, lifting a trembling hand and folding it over hers.
“What?” she cried. “You can’t be sorry. You’re going to be okay.
Hawke.” Her wide gaze swung to mine. “You have to help him.”
I knelt at Vikter’s side, placing a hand just below his shoulder. I felt what I already knew. The crackling and bubbling in his chest. I said her name quietly.
“Help him,” she demanded. “Please! Go get someone. Do something!”
Gods, there was nothing I could do. If I could, I would have. Just to stop the panic and remove the horror from her voice. It didn’t matter that I’d basically threatened his life earlier. Or that this was—fuck, this was inevitable. None of that mattered.
Because Poppy… She was breaking.
“No. No.” She closed her eyes, shaking her head in denial.
“Poppy,” Vikter wheezed. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth. “Look at me.”
She shuddered, lips pressed together, but she was, damn, she was strong.
Her eyes opened.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “For…not…protecting you.”
She tipped toward him. “You have protected me. You still will.” “I…didn’t.” He blinked rapidly, lifting his gaze.
I followed it to where Lord Mazeen stood. The dark-haired Ascended looked amused and like he hadn’t lifted a hand to defend a single person tonight. And he could have. Any of the vampry could have. My nostrils flared as I made a mental note to deal with that fucker later tonight.
“I…failed you…as a man,” Vikter told her. “Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive you for,” she swore. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Please,” Vikter rasped.
“I forgive you.” Poppy pressed her forehead to his, and fuck, I wanted to stop this. “I forgive you. I do. I forgive you.”
Beneath my hand, Vikter shuddered.
“Please don’t,” Poppy said. “Please don’t leave me. Please. I can’t…I can’t do this without you. Please.”
Gods.
Poppy’s gaze frantically swept over Vikter’s face, searching for signs of a miracle, but she would find none. He was gone.
“Vikter?” She pressed down on his chest as I became aware of Tawny.
She stood nearby, weeping. “Vikter?”
“Poppy.” I folded my hand over hers, stopping her from looking for a heart that would not beat.
She looked up at me. “No.”
“I’m sorry.” And I was. I lifted her hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“No,” she repeated, her breath coming in short, rapid pants. “No.”
Lord Mazeen spoke. “I do believe our Maiden has also crossed a certain line with her Royal Guards. I don’t think her lessons were at all effective.”
Slowly, I looked to where the Lord stood. That was about when I realized the Duchess was here. I couldn’t give a fuck about her as I warned, “Speak one more word to her and you will not have a tongue.”
Lord Mazeen raised a brow. “I’m sorry?” he said, lip curling as he eyed me. I felt Poppy’s hand ease out from under mine. “Are you speaking to
me?”
I was going to do a lot more than speak to him.
The soft scrape of metal over stone drew my attention to a fallen sword.
To Poppy’s bloody fingers wrapping around the hilt.
I watched her rise, her hands and arms covered in blood and the knees of her gown soaked with it. She turned to him.
Lord Mazeen smirked. I rose.
“I won’t be forgetting that anytime soon.” Lord Mazeen tilted his chin at Vikter, his smirk growing.
I could’ve stopped Poppy. Could have taken the sword from her. Gotten her away from this chamber and dealt with the fucker myself. Easily.
But I knew.
Crazy as it sounded, I knew on an instinctual level that nothing in this godsdamn realm or beyond would’ve made me stop her.
Poppy’s scream was one of such pain and anger that I flinched. It was a sound I’d heard before. I’d made it myself when I realized what Shea had done.
And maybe that was why I didn’t stop Poppy. At least one of the reasons, anyway. Because I knew what she was about to do.
I’d done it myself.
Poppy was quick, swinging the sword. The vampry lifted a hand, to do what was anyone’s guess. Whatever it was, it went horribly wrong for him. The blade sliced right through muscle and bone, taking that fucking smirk right along with his arm.
My brows shot up. That was so incredibly…violent of her.
Someone screamed as the Lord gasped. The Duchess? Tawny shouted at Poppy.
I smiled as blood gushed from the stump where the Lord’s arm should be. He stumbled back, staring down at his severed arm like the dumb fuck
he was.
She brought that sword down again, chopping off the Lord’s left hand.
The screaming. It was hers. My smile faded.
And Poppy…she spun, and she was glorious, arcing that sword high.
She caught him at the throat. The Lord’s head went in one direction and his body in the other.
Then she struck him across the chest, the stomach, and she screamed, her rage and grief taking her, breaking her even further.
This, I couldn’t allow.
I snapped forward, folding an arm around her waist. I hauled her back against me as I clamped down on the hilt of the sword—shit, it was Vikter’s. I wrenched it free from her grip, but she fought to get back to the Lord, slamming her foot into my leg, twisting and beating on my arm.
“Stop.” I spun her away from what was left of Mazeen. I dipped my head, pressing my cheek to hers. “Gods, stop. Stop.”
Her foot snapped back, catching me in the shin and then the thigh. Hard.
I grunted as she reared, causing me to stumble.
Gods.
I clamped both arms around her, dragging her toward the door, past the body of the Descenter. Guards backed away, giving us a wide berth as she screamed, her nails digging into my skin, scratching until there was a fiery sting.
Forcing her onto her knees, I held her there so she couldn’t rise. “Stop.
Please. Poppy—”
Her head kicked back against my chest. The skin of her jaw and throat was flushed a bright red. Her breathing was erratic, and her screams…
My chest cracked in a way I hadn’t thought possible. I leaned over her, caging her with my body. And still, she screamed. I didn’t know how long she could keep it up before she hurt herself. And she would. Those screams… They sounded as if they were killing her.
I turned my head, pressing my mouth to her too-hot temple. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. She couldn’t hear me over the pained shrieks.
Knowing I wouldn’t be able to reach her with compulsion in this state, even if we had the privacy to do so, I did the next best thing. I eased an arm from her and reached around, pressing my fingers into points at her throat, the pulse there. I pushed. Her screaming cut off abruptly. A staggered heartbeat later, her body went limp in my arms, her head falling back.
“Poppy,” Tawny whispered behind me. “Poppy?”
I rose with her in my arms and began walking. The Duchess spoke, but all I heard were Poppy’s screams.
