“Call off your dog.” His eyes darted to Tristan.
“Tristan,” I snapped.
Delacourt’s guards surrounded us as Tristan lowered his sword.
Brandon sauntered up, four more Drakaar in tow. Their black swords seemed to absorb light as they moved toward us.
I kept an eye on Rafe as I faced Brandon. “Hiding behind the Drakaar again, are we, Brandon?”
Brandon smirked. “More of them came as quickly as they could after they heard we had you locked up in the dungeon.” He frowned. “I don’t know how you got out—the blackened iron should have held you until they got here.”
I shrugged. “Well, I guess you don’t know me very well, Brandon.”
He adjusted his ermine-lined cloak on his shoulders and pretended to flick some dirt off it. “Oh, I know you only too well, Princess.” He threw a glance at Rafe, the knife in the Drakaar’s hand pressed to his skin. “I know you will never make a move as long as I have a knife to your lover’s throat.”
My eyes darted to Tristan. He would be ready to fight on my signal. I had come here to help Rafe get this throne back, and I wasn’t going to let Brandon win. If I made one wrong move, Rafe could die. There was only one way to end this.
I turned my gaze back to Brandon. “Like I said, you don’t know me at all, Brandon.”
I gathered my magic slowly, my eyes fixed on Rafe and sent out a silent call. “Abraxas, I need you.”
And the ring on my finger started to glow.
Instantly the sky darkened, and a mighty roar shook the castle as the ancient dragon appeared overhead.
It was as if time stopped while everyone halted what they were doing to look up, terror showing plainly on their faces.
“Dragon!” screamed a guard.
The Drakaar holding the knife to Rafe’s throat faltered for a moment when the great dragon appeared, but a moment was all we needed.
Rafe spun out of the Drakaar’s grip as I unleashed a raging bolt of white light, incinerating the demon sorcerer to dust.
Onlookers shrieked hysterically, and the whole castle fell into chaos.
Tristan roared and pounced on the remaining Drakaar as they banded together to protect Brandon from the dark prince. But we didn’t have time to go after the archmage—we had to get to the main gates and let the rest of our army in, otherwise we would not be able to take the castle. We still had to cross the main bailey, a huge open space where the majority of the soldiers were stationed, and they would be waiting for us.
I gathered more magic and let it rise within me before I flung it at the gate. Silver fire, hotter than any man-made construct could withstand, erupted from my hands, burning through the iron gates, melting the portcullis until there was a gaping hole.
The soldiers were waiting for us, but many were taken by surprise at the arrival of the ancient dragon. Some fumbled to pick up their weapons as archers composed themselves and readied their bows, firing a barrage of arrows into the sky. They bounced off the dragon’s impenetrable scales like feathers in the wind. Abraxas wasn’t doing anything except circling the castle, but it was enough to terrify the life out of Delacourt’s army.
“Try not to burn down the castle,” I said to Abraxas.
“I shall do my best.” The great dragon laughed, and it sounded like a terrifying roar as he swooped closer to the main wall.
We dashed through the melted inner gate.
“I’m going to open the main gate,” Rafe shouted as he ducked and spun, his sword embedding in another guard’s gut. He pulled his sword out. “Keep those archers off me.”
It was still a few hundred feet to the gatehouse, and we had to get there without being killed. I created a wider shield and moved it around Rafe as he ran. Arrows bounced off the shield, but a shield could only protect him from flying objects and magical strikes. I could not protect him from the countless guards who had begun to realize that the Prince of Eldoren was in their midst.
Rafe ran a guard through with his sword.
“Tristan!” I shouted, flinging out my magic and pushing guards out of the way. But I needn’t have. Tristan was already there, fighting beside Rafe and cutting a clean path through the guards toward the gatehouse.
Keeping my shield intact, I ran to help.
Rafe and Tristan fought their way through the guards to the gatehouse as arrows rained down from all sides. Finally, they reached the great stone entrance tunnel, but there were too many guards to both fight them off and raise the portcullis at the same time; it required two people to raise it. I had to keep the guards off them so they could open the gate.
“I’m over here, dimwits,” I shouted at the guards.
The soldiers who had Rafe and Tristan backed into the tunnel stopped and turned at the sound of my voice. Their eyes widened as they all slowly recognized me, which wasn’t that difficult, especially with the massive dragon flying around overhead.
One of the wide-eyed guards said, “Dawnstar.”
“Yup! That’s me.” I flexed my fingers and reached for my magic.
“How can you be here?” said another guard, fear apparent on his pale face. “The archmage had you locked up in the dungeons.”
“A futile attempt, obviously,” I said as I stood watch over the gatehouse, shielding Rafe and Tristan.
The rest of the guards stopped and surrounded me, but came no closer. More guards were coming for me, so I had to be quick. A few of the guards started flinging magical strikes at me, but they bounced off my shield, useless. Stretching out one hand, I picked up the guards with magic as if they were toys, and with a flick of my wrist flung them against the walls, trapping some there and letting others fall to the ground.
Rafe and Tristan had the opening they needed and started to raise the
