A deep rumbling shook the marble slab floor beneath my feet, and it wasn’t from me kicking a pedestal.
It wasn’t coming from Sarad Nukpana, but I had a sinking feeling he had everything to do with it. It wasn’t magic. I didn’t feel it in the way that magic could be felt. I felt it in my bones, shaking me from my feet on up. Now would be a hell of a time to find out that the bastard could summon an earthquake on command.
Kesyn went pale. “Oh, hell.”
“What is it?”
“Something we don’t want up here with us.”
“That doesn’t tell me—” I froze.
A crack appeared in the center of the temple floor, quickly spreading in both directions at once, toward the doors and toward the dais—and us.
“Oh, hell” was right.
A monstrous scaled claw reached up through the crack, grasping a chunk of marble the size of the altar Kesyn was chained to, flinging it aside like a chair in a barroom brawl. A pair of familiar scaled heads broke through with roars that made my knees go weak. The fleeing goblin allies screamed in terror as if from a single ragged throat.
The sea dragons liked that.
Sarad Nukpana shouted over the screams and roars, making himself heard—by the dragons. Their heads turned and faced him, like dogs waiting for a command.
He could control them.
This was worse than earthquakes on command.
If those things managed to claw their way into the temple, they’d bring the walls down on us all, and Sarad Nukpana wouldn’t have to lift a finger to do anything else. The Saghred would survive. I was certain Sarad Nukpana would find a way to survive, but no one else would.
I saw a movement of white on the edge of my vision. Mirabai was slowly getting to her feet, bleeding from a cut on her forehead. She raised one hand to her head; the other held something glittering of silver.
Oh, good girl!
The Scythe of Nen. The fruit of her labor for attacking Sarad Nukpana.
The only thing that could have made me happier was the Saghred letting my hand go. But if everything went according to Plan B, that would happen soon enough.
Never come up with only one plan when you’ll probably need two. I’d hoped I could get Carnades to give me the Scythe, then immediately stab the Saghred and screw the consequences. I’d rather have had Reapers to suck up the escaping souls, but Kesyn was chained with magic-sapping manacles, so I’d just have to work with what I had. If that plan had failed (it had), and Sarad Nukpana had taken the Scythe (he did), Princess Mirabai was my Plan B—get that dagger by any means possible. She went with a straightforward, and probably intensely satisfying, attack.
That girl had my vote for goblin queen.
The dragon-ripped chasm in the floor had extended up the stairs to the dais. Between that and the firepower being flung around, Mirabai couldn’t get to me. But we’d planned for this, practicing with that butter knife in Sarad Nukpana’s bedroom. It had been about the same size and weight as the Scythe, and Mirabai had proven herself to have an impressively accurate throwing arm. Now the princess took the time she needed with the aim, then gave it an underhanded toss—just as the female dragon punched through another piece of the floor and began pulling her sinuous body through. The chunk of marble slid along the floor and crashed into one of the pillars, threatening to bring it down.
The impact sent the Scythe of Nen skittering along the dais.
Stopping less than three feet out of my reach.
It was all I could do not to scream in frustration.
Sarad Nukpana’s attention was on directing his new pets in death and destruction, and for the moment, I needed him to keep his eyes, ears, and full attention exactly where they were.
Lightning cackled and killed, the floor shook, and mundane bolts and blades flew and clashed around me.
I ignored it all. Yes, my hand was attached to the Saghred, but I had really long legs. Best of all, I was barefooted. I dropped to my knees, which had the dual benefit of getting me closer to the floor, and out of a lot of people’s line of sight and fire. I twisted my forearm in the manacle as far as I could, pushing the pain aside. A broken arm would heal, too. I stretched out the leg closest to the Scythe as far as I could, reaching out with my bare feet, and wishing I had longer toes. I stretched and squirmed and swore. I blew all of my breath out in the vain hope that maybe it’d make me a fraction taller.
My big toe touched cool silver.
Yes!
I’d never been so glad to be barefooted in my life. It was amazing what your toes could do when you were motivated enough, and right now my motivation knew no bounds.
But touching wasn’t having, and having wasn’t stabbing the Saghred. Kesyn was still chained with magic- sapping manacles and still couldn’t summon any Reapers.
One problem at a time, Raine.
Sarad Nukpana didn’t see me do any of this.
But his mother did.
There I was, stretched out like the perfect—and perfectly stupid—sacrifice.
Sandrina Ghalfari’s eyes lit with homicidal glee as she drew a pair of stilettos from her jeweled belt. The blades glistened wetly with what had to be poison.
Crap in a bucket.
Chapter 22
Sandrina Ghalfari’s dark, glittering eyes told me that I wasn’t the only one having that image, but unlike me, she was enjoying it. At least if she decided to indulge herself, I wouldn’t be around for it, at least not for long; a single nick from one of those poisoned blades and I’d be gone. Though with Sandrina’s sadistic history, more than likely the poison would paralyze me first, giving Sarad Nukpana’s mom plenty of time to relish my agonizing death.
Nothing like impending torment to give you a positive outlook.
My feet and legs were free, so I could have the satisfaction of at least kicking the bitch first, but they were also bare.
See above concerning one nick equaling painful death or paralysis.
Sandrina glanced at the Scythe of Nen and kicked it down the stairs and into the carnage-filled chaos the temple floor had become. I didn’t have a Plan C, but if I did, it would have involved my unfettered fists and Sandrina’s face.
“My only regret is that I won’t have the time to inflict the agonies on you that you inflicted on my son.” Her eyes narrowed and her lips curled into a vulpine smile. “Sarad has forbidden you to be killed, so to repay you for all that you’ve done, I will go to great pains to ensure that your loved ones linger for as long as possible.” Her voice dropped to a purr. “Rest easy and know that I will take
A banshee shriek shook the air as a broken pike came down on Sandrina’s head, dropping Nukpana’s mom like a rock.
Princess Mirabai stood over Sandrina’s crumpled form, clutching a blood-spattered pike from one of her guards. Guards that were now nowhere in sight, though the floor where they’d been standing was nowhere in sight, either. The hooked blade had been broken off; the wood was split and splintered on one end, making a half- respectable spear. Mirabai held it with a practiced grip; her feet spread shoulder-width apart in a solid stance. It looked like a certain princess had had quarterstaff training.
“Plan B is back on the table!” I crowed.
