He wiped his sword clean on one of the dead guards’ uniforms and took a steadying breath. Though he never welcomed violence, it brought his energy to a point. All of his nerves and anxiety felt transfigured, turned into adrenaline, and focused confidence out of the necessity of the moment.
“Be ready,” said Damon. “Only speak if it’s absolutely necessary once we’re in the halls of Veridas Keep. Otherwise, just watch and signal.”
Everyone nodded. Damon and Wrath led the way, with Malon and Seffi directly behind them. Kastet and Vel were safe within the middle of the group, and Lilian brought up the rear.
The keep was quiet, ominously so. It had been built to be a fortress, and its wide stone hallways were solid and defensible. Damon caught a look out of one of the windows, across the Garden of Statues, where he’d seen Wrath and Avarice fight during the Honorshade Tournament. Snow fell softly, crowning each stone or metal figure’s head with bits of white.
They came across two guards. Wrath handled both, snapping their necks with brutal speed and efficiency. They managed to remain under the cloak of stealth as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. Kastet signaled them to slow down, pulling them all near enough to whisper within earshot.
“The dining hall is around the next corner,” she said, voice barely audible. “That’s where Avarice and Gabriel will be meeting tonight.”
Damon exchanged glances with everyone in their small group, getting a sense of the mood, the nerves, and in Wrath’s case, cold anticipation. There was no turning back. They were an hour, at least, removed from the last point at which they could have turned back.
Damon rounded the corner first, almost running straight into Austine, who stood guard outside the dining hall.
CHAPTER 35
Despite being the first to see Austine, and despite knowing far better than any of the others, Damon was not the first one to react. Lilian surged forward, arms and razor claws extending forward into a death lunge.
“No!” hissed Damon. He threw up his arm, taking at least one moderately deep scratch in his effort to block Lilian’s attack.
“He has to die,” said Lilian, with surprising calm. “He’s Avarice’s crest sorcerer, and he… he…”
Damon shifted from holding her back to just holding her. Austine had, in a sense, killed her. She’d been reborn through Famine’s corruption, the zanyadai blood that even now pulsed through her veins. Her appearance, her hunger for blood, her preference for shadows, it all came from that singular moment when Austine slid his sword through her back.
“You idiot,” muttered Austine. “You complete and utter fool. You’re mad, Damon. You can’t be here!”
Damon gently passed Lilian, more emotional than violent, to Kastet and Vel. He turned to face his oldest friend, setting one hand atop his myrblade and letting his eyes go as cold as ice.
“We are here, Austine,” he said seriously. “I told you. I warned you. Now, you have to make a decision.”
Austine reached for his sword. Damon moved faster than he did, but not to draw his own weapon. He set his hands atop Austine’s, holding his golden blade within its expensive, ornate scabbard.
“Aust,” he said, voice already hoarse from the tension. “You can’t win. Moreover, I don’t think you’d want to, even if you could. Not this fight.”
“You don’t know as much as you think you do, Damon.”
“What I do know is that if you don’t walk away, this time, I’ll…” Damon closed his eyes, despite the risk. “I won’t be able to… Aust.”
“That’s not my problem,” said Austine. “And it’s not your problem if I decide I want to sacrifice my life in the name of a cause… a contract… that I don’t believe in.”
“Take the night off,” said Damon. “That’s all I’m asking.”
“The coward’s way out?” Austine snorted and flashed an overconfident grin. “You know me, Damon. You already know what I have to say to that.”
“Do you know me, Austine Treymore?” Kastet strode forward, bristling with princess energy. “What if I asked you… no… paid you, to take the night off?”
“Kastet…” said Austine, pensively. “What, exactly, would you pay me with?”
“That depends on what Avarice is paying you,” she said. “I won’t just double it. I’ll make it look like an insult.”
Austine’s hard expression wavered at the edges. Damon wanted to cuff his oldest friend upside the head for simultaneously being so impossible and yet so predictable.
“You greedy bastard,” he muttered. “You’d better take her up on that offer if it appeals to you. She’s the temperamental sort.”
Kastet shot him a look. Austine let his hand fall from his sword hilt.
“Princess, we have a deal,” he said. “Damon. Come find me when this is over.”
“If I were you, I’d get your wives out of the city,” said Damon. “Whatever happens, don’t let Avarice drag you into this fight.”
“Make sure you win it,” said Austine. “If you don’t, you may as well have killed me in front of this door instead of turning my loyalty.”
He let his shoulder bang into Damon’s as he passed by him in the hall. Damon waited another minute after he was completely out of sight before turning to the others and confirming everyone was ready.
“Remember,” said Kastet. “Gabriel wants to make his proposal. He doesn’t want this to seem like an outright attack, but something more complicated and incidental.”
“I remember,” said Wrath. “It suits me to hold off attacking until he’s said his piece, regardless.”
Damon took one side of the double doors while Wrath took the other. They nodded to one another, pushing through them in unison. The dining hall on the other side was filled with people and activity, far more than Damon had been expecting.
Hundreds of guests, ranging from the upper crust nobility to mid-range merchants, sat at dozens of tables, each lit by immaculate metal centerpieces adorned with white wax candles. A trio of musicians with harp, violin, and chime cord, played on a stage set in the corner of the room, raised midway off the ground.
Avarice, dressed in white and gold finery with his gleaming circlet set upon his otherwise bare head, sat at the table in the center of the room. Conceit, dark skinned and elegant, sat next to him on both sides and once more on the diagonal. Each of her three bodies wore the same dress in a different color, red, light blue, and pastel pink.
Gabriel was at the same table, though distinctly apart from the Forsaken, sitting in opposition to them like the negotiating party at a truce summit. Damon conceded that it wasn’t far from an accurate representation of how Avarice likely expected the night to proceed.
Everything stopped as he and Wrath led their group into the otherwise exclusive party. A hush fell across the guests, followed by quiet, curious murmurs. The musicians stopped playing of their own accord, and from the way the harpist hurriedly attempted to tie a carrying strap across her heavy instrument, she clearly had a better idea of what was about to happen than most of the guests.
Damon felt a bit awkward as he stood there, though he didn’t let it show in his posture. Wrath took a step forward, drawing every eye in the room. She had a grim smile on her face as she slowly scanned the room.
She was right next to the nearest table, whose occupants were already drawing back from her. With a swift kick she flipped it over, eliciting several screams from those directly affected and a stunned silence from everyone else.
“Avarice,” boomed Wrath. “You know why I’m here.”
“Sister…” hissed Avarice. The Godking narrowed his eyes. “You’ve overstepped your bounds. Again.”
“Hold!” Gabriel stood up quickly, holding his hands out. “Um, if we could all just hold on a moment. Lord Avarice, I must admit that I knew in advance your two sisters, Wrath and Lascivious, would be making an appearance tonight. Allow me to explain, and, um, hopefully mediate this discussion.”
Malon shifted forwa
rd, holding Seffi’s hand for support. Avarice’s eyes bulged as he saw them, a reaction so pronounced that it felt at odds with Seffi’s shy, withdrawn posture.
“Lascivious,” muttered Avarice. “Bah. You were too afraid to step out into the open when it would have behooved you. You stand here now, with no real knowledge of what you’re doing.”
“I know what I’m doing…” said Seffi, voice slowly rising in pitch. “My parents… My sister! You killed them for no good reason!”
Gabriel cleared his throat and adjusted his crown. “If we could all just, ah, step off the precipice of this… unfortunate intensity. I hoped we could come to a reasonable compromise to form a foundation of a lasting peace between the esteemed Divine Remnants.”
“I heard their screams as they burned,” Avarice said to Seffi. “Did you know that? Would you like to know how they tried to save your younger sister? They threw her through the window in an attempt to get her out of the smoke. I crushed her head under my boot heel.”
Seffi let out a heartbreaking screech and tried to hurl herself forward. Malon held her back, though not without effort. Damon knew that if she wanted to, she could use her power to pull loose, though perhaps she was blinded to that possibility by her own grief.
“As I was saying,” Gabriel said, attempting to continue. “All of you could… join hands together and set prior hurts aside. Hand in hand, Godking and fellow Godqueens. United with Merinia for a lasting peace across the colonies and our fair realm.”
Avarice’s eyes darted in Gabriel’s direction as though he’d forgotten he existed. He slowly made his way over to the King of Merinia, fixing his robes, and stabbed his arm out. In a blur of motion, Avarice forced his hand through Gabriel’s regal shirt and jacket, splitting his skin, continuing into his chest, and then pulling backward in a vicious motion.
Gabriel gaped as Avarice proffered his heart to the gathered attendees within the dining hall. He fell to his knees, impossible amounts of blood gushing from the massive cavity in his chest, mouth speaking silent words, face already drained of color and life.
“Gabriel!” screamed Kastet.
She tried to run to him. Damon caught her and held her back. Avarice lobbed Gabriel’s heart in their direction, and it landed on one of the tables with a horrible, meaty slap.
Everything happened at once. Wrath looked Damon in the eyes for half of a heartbeat before disappearing in a flash of azure and reappearing within striking distance of Avarice. Seffi let out a high-pitched roar, teeth bared like a snarling wolf, and rose into the air within a cocoon of crimson power.
The plan, Damon felt like shouting. Remember the plan!
Seffi was supposed to hold Avarice and Conceit with her power, to contain the limit of destruction. Now, it seemed she was the one who needed containing. The plan’s heart had been ripped out with Gabriel’s, cast askew, useless.
Damon drew his myrblade as the fighting began in earnest. Avarice was already using his power, pulling metal from everything around him. The intricate candle holders on each table flew into motion, each one twisting like curling snakes as they changed to form a section of perfectly matched armor to protect Avarice’s body.
Wrath fought Conceit, bludgeoning her copies with hateful punches, flinging anything that came within reaching distance of her at speeds that took chunks out of the dining hall’s stone walls.
Seffi was still struggling to control her emotions, and though she hurled blasts of power at Avarice, her aim was off. One of the tables took a direct hit from a blast. Damon saw a woman get flung backward with horrible momentum, landing like a broken doll as she struck the floor at an odd angle.
“Gabriel!” screamed Kastet.
She tried to run toward him again. Damon seized her shoulder and shook her until she looked into his eyes.
“Don’t be stupid!” he shouted. “Focus on clearing the room! Get everyone out! Vel will help you.”
“I’m here!” said Vel.
He passed Kastet in Vel’s direction and moved by them. Lilian and Malon fell into step on either side of him. He resisted the impulse to simply charge forward and fight without thinking. They needed a strategy, even if it was simple. Even if it was desperate.
“Get Seffi’s attention!” he said to Malon. “Tell her to use her power like we talked about. We need Avarice and Conceit contained.”
Malon nodded and immediately began running toward Seffi. Lilian grabbed Damon’s shoulder.
“If the nobles see me, they might panic even more,” she said, fixing the hood of her cloak.
“It doesn’t matter at this point,” said Damon. “Watch my back! We’re heading left, toward the window.”
Toward the snow. He’d seen it earlier and knew it might come down to whether enough had fallen to let him summon his ice elementals. They were on the second level, however. There might not be enough of it perched on the window sill for him to do much with, but he had a plan for that, too.
He and Lilian rushed through the room, which didn’t amount to moving as fast as it should have. The nobles rushed the door all at once, tripping over each other, bodies clogging the way out as they selfishly fought to reach safety.
Damon heard a crash as solid fist struck hard metal, the sound so loud that it rattled his eardrums and drew a wince. He reached the window. One of the Conceits laughed and leapt at him from his right side. Lilian struck out with a kick, but it did more to knock her back than it affected the Forsaken.
He slashed at Conceit, missing her leg by a hair as she dodged out of the way with inhuman speed. Her powers weren’t as flashy as those of Wrath or Avarice, but she was still far more capable than any mortal. Damon kept his eyes on her even as he used his sword pommel to smash through the beautiful artistry of the stained-glass window, making enough of a gap for a man to jump through.
Leaping down to the courtyard below felt like dereliction of his duty, and he knew it would look that way to anyone who didn’t think the same way he did. He landed and rolled through a layer of snow thick enough to cling to him unpleasantly.
Perfect.
Sinking his sword into the fresh powder, Damon summoned six ice elementals, the monsters rising in perfect unison, each a beautiful, matching, crystalline copy. He jumped to a new patch of snow, pulling the elementals to him with a quick focus of his will. They wrapped their arms around him as though committing to a group embrace.
He stabbed his sword down again and lifted them up on a pillar of ice. His breath came out so cold it made his teeth hurt, and he knew he was using too much of his sword’s magic, too quickly. He’d deal with the consequences later—if there was a later for any of them.
Damon and his ice elementals reentered the dining hall without drawing as much notice as he would have expected. Lilian was fighting a losing a battle against one Conceit, while Wrath juggled the two others, along with Avarice. Seffi was having some sort of panic attack within Malon’s arms, backed by savage, unaimed outbursts of her magic.
Damon sent the majority of his elementals to help Lilian, keeping two with him as he rushed to support Wrath. One of the Conceits near Wrath switched to focus on him as he entered the fray. She leapt into a flipping strike, almost like one of his old gladiator flourishes. Damon hopped back a step, dodging, and let his ice elementals tackle her.
“You little wretch!” hissed Conceit. “Get these abominations off me!”
One of the ice elementals slapped its hand over her mouth, briefly cutting off any further protest. Conceit thrashed, breaking the elemental into harmless chunks and scurrying back to her feet. Damon brought his sword down before she could completely regain her defense, landing a slash on her shoulder.
His sword cut as deeply as he would have liked… or at all, really. It was more like cutting a clothed statue than striking a living, breathing person. Conceit seemed to blur as she attacked. Damon was suddenly flipping through the air, unsure where he’d been struck or which way was up versus down.
He landed on one
of the tables, which snapped in half to break his fall. He was dizzy as he slowly pulled himself back up, but used the shared awareness of his ice elementals to reorient himself toward the action of the room.
Wrath fought Conceit directly, the two smashing into one another with strikes that damaged the integrity of the chamber more than each other. Malon had calmed Seffi down and the two of them worked to help Lilian against the other two Conceit bodies. Damon had lost another ice elemental, and the remaining four drew toward him, forming a perimeter of defense.
Several of the chamber’s guards who’d held off doing more than helping the nobles escape had shifted their focus toward the battle. One of them rushed toward him, drawing his sword back, but hesitating even as he began his assault.
Damon parried with enough force to knock the man’s weapon loose from his hand and slashed one of his legs out from underneath him. His heart pounded, and it was hard to think through the momentum. The plan. They could still carry out the plan.
“Seffi!” he shouted. “Use your magic! Contain them if you can!”
Seffi’s head turned in his direction. She glanced down at her hands and then fixated her focus on Avarice, who was locked in a battle of blurred movements with Wrath. His armor had taken several heavy blows, but he was already pulling more metal from around the room to reinforce it.
A hand of crimson energy appeared in the air above him. It slapped downward in the manner someone might swat a fly. Avarice was too fast, dodging just before it enveloped him. Seffi screamed in rage, redirecting the hand to grab at him.
Avarice’s armor pulsed outward, splitting into pieces that surrounded him like a crowd of metal hornets to tear through the magic of Seffi’s projection. Damon lent his ice elementals to the cause, sending them in a rush toward Avarice to attack, or at least distract.
Another guard, this one wielding a spear, came at Damon from his left. He dodged the initial strike, chopping through the weapon’s shaft with one strike and spinning into another to slash the man across the chest.
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