Clare shoved her brothers toward Venn. “Move!” she shouted, guarding their backs as they pushed to reach the front door.When Mark stumbled, she grabbed his arm. Horror washedthrough her as bodies fell, screams of death piercing the air. People were everywhere, shoving and hitting in their efforts to find safety outside. In the frantic press of bodies, Clare lost sight of Thomas, though she prayed he was with Venn. She clung to Mark, refusing to let go as they forced their way to the exit.
She couldn’t find Bennick in the chaos, though she spotted Cardon and Dirk as they shoved Serene through the open door, Cardon in front and Dirk shielding her back.
Clare wrapped her arms around Mark, shielding him too as they pushed through the narrow doorway and spilled onto the street. She tugged him aside, away from the worst of the rushing crowd, taking a second to gain her bearings. Her heart was hammering, but training kicked in, keeping her muscles loose and her thoughts firing.
Serene was nearly to Fury’s side. Cardon shouted orders at the soldiers in the street and, in his momentary distraction, Serene ducked around him.
Dirk shouted, but Serene didn’t stop.
A young boy, no more than three or four years old, was running right at Fury in his haste to escape the danger. Clare’s breath caught—the anxious horse would trample him.
Serene snatched him up a split second before Fury reared. The same moment she bent to grab him, a crossbow bolt shot into the ground behind her.
Cardon threw himself at Serene—little boy and all—and hauled them behind the nearby wagon, covering them with his body.
If the princess hadn’t bent to grab the boy, the bolt would have struck her chest.
New screams sliced through the air and bodies hit the ground as the hail of bolts continued. There were shooters on the surroundings roofs, even atop the orphanage. Clare tightened her hold on Mark as she screamed for Thomas, but she didn’t hear anything. She couldn’t see him, and she’d already been immobile for too long. She had to trust Venn was with him, protecting him. She tugged Mark with her as she darted for the alley beside the orphanage; it was the only shelter she could see.
When they were shielded around the corner, Clare pressed Mark against the building’s wall. His eyes were wild, his face pale and terrified.
“It’s going to be all right,” she said, squeezing his narrow shoulders. “I promise.”
He stared at her, chest heaving for breath. The sight of hisfear cut her, but her determination to keep him safe kept herhead level. She peeked around the corner, trying to assess the danger, and her gut rolled. The street was a scene from a nightmare. Horses had bolted. Soldiers were lying on the ground, twitching and crying out with bolts sticking out of their bodies. Some were horribly still. Children screamed, and some of them were on the ground, too. Tears stung Clare’s eyes and a trapped scream burned her throat.
Mark cried out and Clare spun. Fear blasted through her at the sight of a hooded man at the end of the alley. He must have come from behind the orphanage.
Clare slid in front of Mark and tugged free the knife strapped to her leg. Her mind blanked when the man lifted a loaded crossbow and aimed it at her chest.
She froze. She couldn’t reach him before he killed her and if she moved, even to dodge the bolt, she’d expose Mark.
The attacker’s voice was gruff and muffled behind the cloth mask. “Move, and I won’t—”
A form dropped from the roof and slammed into the masked man. He wore a blue uniform, and Clare recognized his dark-blond hair even as he fell.
Bennick and the masked man crashed to the ground. The crossbow bolt released and fire ripped through Clare’s arm before the bolt pinged against the bricks behind her. She slapped a hand over her bicep with a gasp. Blood oozed between her fingers and a tremble shook her body even though she knew it was only a flesh wound. Mark screamed her name, the shout ringing in her ears.
Bennick and the man rolled, fighting hand-to-hand, but it became clear the attacker was losing. He seemed to notice at the same time Clare did, because a knife suddenly flashed in his hand. The sight of it made Clare’s heart lodge in her throat. She cried out, but too late. Bennick hissed as the blade sliced over his chest. He twisted away—right into the fist swinging toward his temple.
Bennick crumpled and the masked man bolted, disappearing behind the orphanage.
Clare shouted for Mark to stay back as she ran to Bennick and dropped beside him, still gripping her wounded arm with one hand. Her free hand swept under the cut on his chest—it wasn’t deep, but there was blood. Blood also trickled from his temple, and he was unconscious.
“Clare!” She jerked around at the shout. Venn was at the head of the alley, his sword drawn and bloody, his chest heaving.Thomas was behind him and Clare let out a shaking breath—they were both safe.
Venn’s eyes fell to Bennick and he stumbled. “Fates, no.”
“He’s alive,” Clare said. “The princess?”
Venn hurried forward, kneeling beside Bennick to inspect the growing lump on his temple. “Cardon and Dirk got her out. They’re probably halfway to the castle by now. The fight’s over—the city guard rallied.” Venn noticed her bleeding arm and swore.
“It’s just a graze,” she assured him. Her eyes darted to her brothers. “Thank you, Venn, for keeping him safe.”
He nodded once, his eyes still on her arm.
Bennick groaned and Clare’s attention snapped to him. “Bennick?” She called his name again and he blinked. His eyes rolled from Venn to Clare and he stiffened. “You’re hurt,” he slurred. He pushed up, one hand reaching for her.
Venn caught his shoulders when he swayed. “Easy.”
Bennick’s focus narrowed on Clare’s bleeding arm. His fingers curled
