way.
No, instead, the sky was lit up with red and orange streaks, like a ghastly aurora, as blue streaks of lightning forked through the night, illuminating against the crimson backdrop. Thunder rolled through the air like a wave of drumbeats, and fear stole into my heart as I watched the fiery display.
“The storm—it has broken.” Camille came up behind me, wrapping her arm around my waist. “This . . . this is what I felt. It’s a monster, a terrible, horrible beast.” She moved beneath one of the holes and I shouted for her to get back, but she wouldn’t listen. Her gaze was rapt, a blur of horror and awe, as she reached her arms into the sky and began to laugh.
“Camille—stop! Do not do this—you can’t touch the power without bringing it down to rain on you!” I raced forward, knocking her to the side as a bolt of lightning ripped through the hole, striking where she had just been standing. I smelled smoke. Smoke from the left, smoke from the right. Queen Asteria’s palace was on fire.
“Camille! Get up. The palace is on fire.”
Camille shook her head, dazed. “What the . . . Holy fuck, I can’t believe I almost did that. That . . . that . . . thing up there is alive. We have to get out of here now!” She scrambled to her feet as I glanced around, trying to find an opening to the street. And then I saw it, just ahead. We had to cross the courtyard, but off to the right, there were stone steps leading into one of the gardens.
“Come on—that way.” I grabbed her hand so we wouldn’t be separated, and we headed toward the opening. We were just clearing the archway when a huge aftershock railed the land. But this time, we could see what the hell was happening.
Outside, to the right of where we were headed, a lightning bolt seared down through the night, striking the ground with a force that must have far exceeded the trillion watts of the average bolt. It slammed into the soil, raping it deep, and the ground split where the fork burrowed in. And then, the steps buckled as the ground rolled.
That’s what was causing the quakes—they weren’t all aftershocks. The storm was attacking the city. And, according to Camille, the storm was an entity. I jumped off the steps, dragging her with me. We went down hard on the walkway in front of the palace, but I didn’t stop to see if anything was broken. My alarms were ringing full tilt, and I grabbed Camille’s wrist and yanked her to her feet. We took off through the grass, but she stopped me for a second to kick off her shoes. Then we were running again, putting as much distance between the palace and us as we could manage.
Behind us, a horrible rending split the night. Camille and I stopped, frozen in our tracks, as we turned to witness what was happening. The storm roiled over the palace—the entire city it seemed, but the central whirlpool centered over the Court. And then, out of the storm’s core, a huge-assed lightning bolt appeared—this one as big as a vortex, as big as a tornado, slicing through the air with a piercing shriek. I stared, tears running down my cheeks as the point of the bolt struck the center of the palace. With a thunderous crash, the lightning split the marble dome, and the columns supporting Queen Asteria’s court began to crumble. As they crumbled, the walls and roof disintegrated, and the entire structure imploded in a massive wall of dust.
Camille let out a strangled cry. “Menolly . . . Trillian!”
She started to run forward but I grabbed her, holding her back. “You can’t go. There’s too much danger. We have to trust that they’ll get out of there.”
“Chase, Sharah—you know they can’t survive something like that.” She was sobbing now, screaming at me. The anger in her voice was almost as frightening as the storm, but I knew she wasn’t aiming it at me. But her magic, if she unleashed it . . .
And then, she reached for the horn. She thrust it into the air and looked up at the storm. “You fucker! You can’t have them!”
“No! You can’t use the horn—even the power of the Black Unicorn can’t fight against whatever the hell this is! Camille, use your common sense. You’ll only get us both killed.” I wasn’t getting through. The fury was rising in her eyes and I knew we only had seconds before she let loose with the full force of whatever power remained in the horn. And if she did that, she’d turn the eye of the storm on us.
“I don’t want to do this!” I grimaced as I backhanded her a good one. My hand landed against her cheek with a resounding crack, startling her long enough that I was able to grab the horn from her. She raised her fingers to touch where I’d hit her—she’d have a nasty bruise, that’s for sure—and then burst into tears, collapsing on the grass beside me.
As I knelt down, tucking the horn securely back in the pocket of her skirt, she gazed up at the sky, a horrified look on her face.
“What are we going to do? What the fuck are we going to do?”
I sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t know. But we have to get out of the open. We have to get away from the city. Because I have a nasty feeling this is only the precursor to something far worse.”
“You’re right.” The familiar voice washed over me like warm rain, soothing and clear. We looked up, and there, standing over us, was Trenyth. He leaned down to help Camille to her feet. “Come. I know some place we can hide.” His face was strained, and he looked like he’d aged a century over the course of the evening.
Mutely, we followed him as he plunged into a side garden. Hell had broken loose, and we were missing loved ones, but the danger was too great. We had to regroup and sort out what this nightmare was.
Trenyth glanced at us as we entered a back rose garden. “Girls, war has come to Elqaneve. The sorcerers are here. And Telazhar is at the helm. We’re under siege.”
And with that, he paused by a trellis thick with branches, and pressed a hidden latch. The trellis opened, and he pushed us through into a hidden passage. Once again, we were on the run.
Chapter 11
The passage was straight, thank gods, with none of the twists and turns we’d encountered in the palace. Trenyth rushed us along. Both Camille and I were hurt—bruised and bleeding, skinned elbows and knees, and Camille was running barefoot, but we ignored the discomfort, ignored the ache, because there was a monster outside rampaging at the gates, and we could feel the storm’s breath on our heels.
Even here, I could feel the tingles of the storm attacking the city. Camille’s hair was wisping out, almost like it was standing at attention. My arms were a map of goose bumps, and it felt like ants were marching across my skin.
Trenyth kept us at pace through the narrow corridor. It seemed to be entirely formed of hedgerows, even the ceiling, but as I squinted, I could see the faint outline of branches through the roof. They were so tightly woven that little light filtered through, but the brilliant colors of the storm were unmistakable. Trenyth led us with a pale light that sat on his shoulder, and I had no idea what it was—not an eye catcher, that I knew, but there was no time now for questions. No time for anything but running.
Finally, we came to a door at the end of the tunnel, and wasting no time, Trenyth touched the surface with his hand and it flew open, slamming back. He pushed through and we followed. We weren’t near the palace, that much I could tell, but where we were, I had no idea.
As we entered what appeared to be a low-ceilinged room, Trenyth shut the door again and muttered a charm, and a faint blue glow raced around the edges. I had the feeling he had just sealed us in. The glow extended to fill the room, and we were bathed in the light, cool and sterile and neon. The room was square, with a door at the other end, and in the center of the room was a table and chairs. Cabinets lined one wall, and what looked like a well was in the corner.
Trenyth turned. “Sit down. Check your wounds.”
We obeyed without question. Camille examined her feet and grimaced, but then yanked out what appeared to be a smallish thorn. She lifted her skirts. Both of her knees were covered with abrasions and her calves were bruised. Her elbows were bleeding from where she’d hit the ground a couple of times.
I hadn’t fared much better. My arms were scraped, and I had a nasty bruise on my back where I’d tripped over some piece of debris. I realized that blood was dripping down my face, but the cut was small, near my left cheek. I wiped away the drops and settled into one of the chairs, grateful for the chance to rest.
