by Krista Rose
I picked up pieces of the broken pipes, frowning. Who would do such a thing?
The sound of shouting made me glance up, annoyed. The Camp had been especially noisy all morning, voices echoing across the trees, but it was impossible to understand them through the muffle of thick leaves that surrounded this particular house, on the outskirts of the encampment.
My guards were eyeing each other nervously, shifting their weight from foot to foot as they palmed their swords. I had six watching over me today; the Prince had set them to look after me weeks ago, warning me that he suspected we had a traitor in our midst. I normally didn’t mind their protection, but today their presence irritated me, their unease setting my teeth on edge and making me want to crawl out of my skin.
One of the older men at last growled, and took a step toward the door. “I’m going to go see what’s going on.”
A younger guard- Tomlin, his name was Tomlin- glanced at me. “But sir, our orders-”
He stepped outside. “Five is more than enough for-”
Whatever five might have been enough for was lost as an arrow blossomed between his brows. He turned to stare at us, eyes wide as he reached for the arrow, and stepped backward off the landing, disappearing without a sound.
The other guards drew their weapons, their faces grim, and stood arrayed before the door.
I stood, unable to move, unable to breathe in that awful moment of waiting, a piece of the useless hand pump still clutched in my hand.
An arrow whistled through the window, and struck another of the guards through the skull, dropping him soundlessly. A second arrow, a third, and a fourth, shot through the room, each finding a mark in the men sent to protect me.
Tomlin, white-faced and shaking, retreated behind me and the questionable safety of the hand pump, and I was certain that he would faint at any moment.
I forced my mind to work. Whoever had just slaughtered my guards must be the enemy the Prince had warned me of. The noises I had been hearing all morning were the sounds of the dreaded attack, someone striking against the Camp. If they had killed my guards, I doubted they intended to leave me alive.
I knelt and scooped up the sword of one of the fallen men. It was surprisingly heavy, and the hilt was warm and slick with blood. I tried my best to ignore it.
Tomlin made a noise behind me, and I turned to find his blade leveled at my throat. I blinked at him, confused. “What-”
“Orders,” he whispered, licking his chapped lips. “Sorry, Alyxen.”
“Orders? But-”
An arrow pierced Tomlin’s eye, splattering my face with blood as he gaped at me and fell, his sword clattering to the floor beside him.
I braced, raising my borrowed sword, certain my death was next, preparing myself for the brief pain before the darkness.
It never came.
Long minutes dragged by, until my clenched muscles began to cramp and ache, and I was forced to move to loosen them. Cold sweat had plastered my tunic to my chest; my stomach roiled at the stench of death around me, threatening to make me sick. Still, nothing happened. I swallowed, and stepped hesitantly toward the door.
Someone began to climb the ladder.
I dropped into a crouch, the sword raised over my head. I did not need skill nor training to brain my would-be assassin as he appeared over the edge of the landing. Even if I didn’t kill him, he would lose his balance, and the long fall to the forest floor would do the rest.
He was nearing the top; I could hear the sound of his breathing. Only a few more feet. I tensed, ready to strike as soon as I saw the top of his skull-
White light blasted into my mind, knocking me off my feet; for an instant I was blinded by it. The sword dropped from my nerveless fingers as I lay on my back, gasping.
The brilliant whiteness dimmed, and I blinked away the spots that seemed to linger in front of my eyes to find Reyce looming over me, his face a mask of blankness, his eyes solid black and terrifying.
“I’m sorry,” he said, though he didn’t look to be. His voice was somehow deeper, and my bones ached with the sound of it. “I came as fast as I could, but Brannyn’s burned most of the bridges. I had to come the long way.”
I gaped at him, trying to make sense of his words. “Brannyn what? Why? What’s happening?”
“The Prince is trying to rape Lanya, so Brannyn’s declared war on the Camp.” Reyce began climbing back down the ladder. “Come on, we have to get back to Kylee. She’s all alone with the wagon.”
“Wait! Did you-” I glanced at the dead guards, then back at his cold, blank eyes. “Did you kill them? All of them?”
He merely stared at me.
I swallowed. “Never mind.”
He turned, and made his way back down the ladder.
I followed, my mind reeling in shock. There must be some sort of misunderstanding. Hamund’s my friend, he’s protected me, treated me as an equal. Surely he wouldn’t try to rape my sister.
Tomlin’s whispered apology echoed in my mind, confirming my fears.
BRANNYN
Kryssa had reached the rope ladders leading to the Great Hall before me, and was already climbing as I strode across the last of the bridges to join her. Someone shouted, and I turned, seeing the arrow pointed at my sister’s back. I didn’t even see the man’s face as my hand shot out, and a blast of flame roasted him where he stood.
Thank you.
I swallowed, feeling a little ill, but I had no time to gauge how I felt about my first kill. Lanya was still in danger, and I struggled again to reach her, surprised this time when I found her, though her golden light was almost grey with fear.
Lanya!
Brannyn, help! I saw her chains, and the Prince’s eyes, lit with sick desire.
We’re coming. Even in her thoughts, Kryssa sounded exhausted, her body unprepared for this kind of exertion. We’ll save you.
I made sure my hands were out and cool before starting up the ladder. I had grown used to the trick of them over time, and quickly outdistanced Kryssa. I heard more shouting from below; an arrow whined as it passed too close to my ear. I set my jaw, ignoring the itch between my shoulder blades as I climbed.
Thankfully, a second arrow never came. My vision narrowed to a single point, high above, my thoughts vicious and dark, guilt and anger swimming through my blood, volatile and explosive.
Lanya was in danger, and it was my fault.
Stupid, I chided myself as I neared the top. It was stupid that I hadn’t thought to warn her, to alert any of my siblings to the Prince’s depraved need. Selfishness and arrogance had kept me close-mouthed; Marla and my own stubbornness might yet cost me my sister. I cursed steadily as I levered myself over the edge, into the Great Hall.
It was empty.
I swore, violently, and turned to pull up Kryssa’s ladder, yanking it up hand over hand, my rage fueling me on, so that within moments she was standing in the Hall beside me, her face pale and blood-smeared as she looked around.
“She has to be on the other side of the wall,” I murmured, and hoped the Prince couldn’t hear us. I wondered if I should ask her about the blood, then decided against it. I glanced over the edge toward the platforms far below, saw the tiny figures of men trying to climb the ladders. Deliberately, I set the ropes on fire, one by one.
Kryssa blanched. “What are you doing? How are we going to get back out of here?”
“The Prince has a private exit,” I reminded her. “Alyxen built it. Let’s go.”
I was certain there was a secret door through the wall behind the throne, and Kryssa searched for it, pressing whorls and knots in the wood in the vain hope of finding it. I growled, impatience prickling along my skin. We did not know what was on the other side of the wall; I did not want to risk hurting Lanya by blasting through it.
But when she screamed, loud and piercing, I threw caution to the winds. “Fucking bastard,” I growled, and blue fire shot from my hands. The wall simply evaporated into ash. I stepped through the ch
oking smoke into the Prince’s chamber, embers scattering like snowflakes before me.
He crouched behind Lanya on the bed, a dagger held to her throat and his hand fisted in her hair. I lowered my hands. I couldn’t set him on fire without burning her as well.
My sister’s eyes were blind with fear, and I swallowed my disgust. “Let her go, Hamund. It’s the only way you live through this.”
His head tilted, his lips twisting into a mocking smile. “I was just talking to her, Farmboy. No need to be so dramatic.”
Kryssa entered behind me, her eyes cold. “Let go of her.”
The Prince’s eyes widened, and he laughed, high and wild. “You? You would make demands of me?” Feral rage twisted his features, his eyes hot and dangerous. “I saved you! I saved all of you! I am owed this!”
“We owe you nothing.” I drew Tanner’s sword. “Fight me like a man, or are you willing to die behind a woman like the coward you are?”
He glared at me, and then gasped. His eyes rolled toward the back of his head and he spasmed violently, his mouth working in a silent scream as his fingers scrabbled at his face.
I jerked my head toward Kryssa, saw her face turn pale as death. “No, don’t-”
Lanya cried out and shoved the Prince’s arm away, yanking the dagger from his grip and throwing it across the room. Blood trickled brightly from a scratch across her throat.
Kryssa collapsed.
Perhaps it was because his desires had already dissolved his mind into lunacy, but Hamund recovered from Kryssa’s attack faster than I would have thought possible. He shoved Lanya aside and snarled, climbing from the bed and drawing his sword as he faced me.
“I’ll take her with your blood on my hands,” he whispered, smiling, his eyes hard and bright. “I’ll drink her tears like wine.”
I felt sick. “You’re a monster, Hamund.”
He glanced at the smoldering hole I’d left in the wall. “So are you.”
For one brief, stunning moment, the world seemed to freeze as we stared at each other. His face reflected my anger, the frustrations I felt mirrored in his eyes. He was my arrogance and selfishness personified. He was self-absorption and conceit and dark secrets. I understood him in that instant as I had never understood another living soul. We were equal, he and I, two sides of an imperfect coin.
But in the end he was just a man: a weak man with moments of brilliance, or perhaps a strong man with moments of brilliant weakness. He could die like any other man, and I would kill him before I let him hurt my family. I would not be weak, I would not cower and run. His death would finally absolve me of my guilt for not protecting Kryssa, and heal me of my shame.
He jolted, his body stiffening in agony, and the moment was broken. He turned, and I stared at the dagger hilt- his dagger hilt, the one Lanya had thrown- protruding from his back.
“Traitorous whore,” the Prince gasped, and it was only then that I noticed Marla behind him, trembling and afraid, her dark eyes filled with all those terrible things I had wanted to know that no longer mattered. It took too long for me to see her, to understand that it was she who had stabbed the dagger into his back, to realize that he was turning toward her with his blade still in his hand-
“Marla, no!”
It was too late. The Prince’s sword caught her above the hip, carving into her. She cried out as the blade sliced up into her ribs, folding in around it, and he kicked her off before her bones could snatch it from his grip. She collapsed, her blood spreading so very, very quickly across the floor.
He turned back to me, grinning and mad.
I no longer cared about my guilt. I raised my hand and turned him to flame.
The Prince screamed in agony as he ran in circles, setting the curtains and walls of the room on fire before finally falling out of the building. His cries echoed across the Forest as he tumbled to his death, sending flocks of birds screeching into the sky.
I ignored all of it, dropping Tanner’s sword to rush to Marla’s side. I fell to my knees in her blood, and pulled her into my arms.
She smiled at me faintly, and reached up to touch my cheek. Her fingers were hot with blood, and I felt it burn on my skin. I knew her injuries were beyond that of any healer.
“I could never… let him… hurt you,” she murmured, her breathing labored. “Forgive me?”
Tears burned my eyes as I pressed my lips to hers. She had betrayed me out of love, and saved me by the same- what else could I do? “I forgive you.”
She sighed as a tear ran down her cheek, and died in my arms.
KYLEE
18 Alune 578A.F.
I am rarely surprised by much. I am not a foolish female, to run screaming from spiders or mice. I do not jump when my brothers slip an insect or worm down the collar of my tunic. I pride myself on being calm and collected, my wit flattening those who try to catch me unaware.
But I don’t know of anyone who could be prepared for a burning corpse to come tumbling out of the sky.
It landed with a sickening thud, very nearly at my feet, spraying me with bits of blood and brain and dying embers. The sound I made was in a range so high it was possible only animals could have heard it; for certain, the horses flinched, and glared at me reproachfully. I barely noticed. The blackened, smoking, oozing corpse before me was barely recognizable as a person.
I swallowed against the urge to retch, and stared up at the distant, barely-visible edge of the Great Hall.What in Gods’ name are you all doing up there? I hoped they only heard irritation, and not my nerves. Why are you dropping flaming dead people on me?
Sorry, Kylee. Lanya’s voice was scared and shaken, yet she still tried to soothe. The Prince jumped before we could stop him.
This is the Prince? I gazed at the formless sack of burnt flesh, my head light. A waft of smoke curled around me, filling my nose with the scent of cooked meat, and I vomited.
We’re trying to come to you.
I spat and backed away from the corpse, wiping my mouth as I returned to the safety of the horses. Smoke was beginning to fill the sky over the trees; it wouldn’t be long before everyone in Valory knew the location of the now-Princeless Camp. Foolishly, I wished Thellin hadn’t left me alone.
Something thudded into the ground thirty feet away, and I jumped, swearing, then buried my face in Nightking’s mane. For the love of all that’s holy, will you stop dropping bodies around me?
Sorry, Kylee. Reyce’s voice, blinding white; even through the abrupt pain in my head I could sense he wasn’t truly apologetic. We’ll be down in a few minutes.
I shuddered, and prayed my siblings would not be the next ones to topple from the trees.
BRANNYN
I had thought once that there was no worse pain than the cruelty we had been raised with, the blows and abuse, the bruises and blood and occasional broken bone, but it all paled in comparison to the sheer agony of grief. I stared down at Marla. Her dark eyes were open and unseeing. Now I would never know her secrets, never fully come to understand her silences or what she thought of when her face grew sad and far away. There are no words to describe that pain, and any I thought of would never do it justice.
I blamed myself, though it was much too late for the knowledge. We should have left as soon as I had grown suspicious.Why hadn’t I insisted we slip away before dawn? I had known for months that the Prince might attack Lanya, and I had guessed the night before that it was upon us. Why had I bothered to keep such a necessary truth a secret?
And I at last admitted to myself: because I had wanted to stay. My selfishness had kept me silent, placing my sister in danger. Like a fool, I had wanted to prove myself, to show that I could protect my family just as well as Kryssa, arrogantly thinking my fire would be enough to keep them safe. No one else needed to suffer under the burden of my secret.
And this was the price I paid for it.
Poor, pathetic boy. I knew you wouldn’t be able to protect them. You are too weak, too spineless, and now you sit in your lover�
��s blood. You can’t protect anyone.
I don’t know how long I knelt there, bent over her body in mindless grief, but it felt like a very long time.
Brannyn? Lanya’s voice was gentle, but tinged with worry. Brannyn, the room is on fire.
It hurt to let go of Marla, to leave her broken and lifeless on the floor as I turned to my sister. She jerked the chain that held her to the bed, her eyes bright with repressed panic as I began to search for the keys, willing my heart to go numb. Kryssa lay on the floor, unmoving, and I stepped over her to pick up Tanner’s sword before rummaging around the desk.
The room was burning, choking smoke rising through the open wall, and far away I could hear shouting. It didn’t concern me; nothing did.
Marla was dead.
It finally occurred to me that the key must still be on the Prince, but his burning corpse was far, far below us, and we didn’t have time to fetch them. Instead, I kicked the heavy wooden post of the bed that she was chained to until it splintered, not trusting my emotions enough to use my fire on it. With one final kick, it snapped, and Lanya was free, though the manacle was still clamped firmly around her ankle.
I sank down on the edge of the bed, uncaring of the looming flames, unwilling to try to save myself, unable to think of anything beyond my grief and despair.
Marla was dead, and it was all my fault.
LANYA
Brannyn’s grief was crippling me.
The Great Hall was on fire, and I worried that the choking death that lurked in the billowing smoke would soon reach down to catch us, though for the moment it seemed content to pour out the wall, leaving the air in the room clear. I tried to think rationally of escape, but my mind felt scattered, my emotions nearly crushed beneath the weight of his heartbreak.
Marla is dead, it’s all my fault, stupid, foolish, I break everything I touch-
