Benedict admitted he’d lied to get the sea witches to save us. He didn’t have the time or ability to search for the missing witches—it would be suicide. When they found out, they would break the alliance. That couldn’t happen. We needed the witches on our side if we were going to wage war and win.
I looked up, realizing there was only one true way to find out where the witches were.
I stopped and turned, facing the oncoming horde head on. Benedict’s screams sliced the air as I turned away from the rebels, my back to him. He was starting to know me as well as I knew him, but I pushed away the rising guilt. When the stampeding horde saw drakens—many of them—rushing towards them, they turned tail and ran. Most threw themselves over the balcony and walls, abandoning the palace altogether. The lykos snapped a growled order at a small band of a dozen who were left, and the largest lykos transformed back into his human form. He stalked forward with his unit, as quick as a striking snake. Their target: me.
It was at the moment that everything around me stilled. I could see each choice laid out before me, and each consequence hovering in the palm of my hands. Benedict couldn't hunt the witches; he didn't have the time, or the resources. We needed the witches to openly fight with us. We suspected where they were, but we needed certainty. I knew a way.
I turned back and caught Kieran’s eyes, my hands unstrapping my daggers from their sheaths and letting them drop to the ground. The demons would take them otherwise. This way, Kieran or Benedict could retrieve them. They would be waiting for me when I emerged—if I emerged. I looked away, and Kieran's eyes went wide in understanding. He screamed, but I couldn't hear him over the din of the fight.
Kieran's scream attracted Benedict's attention, whose eyes bulged as he instantly deduced what I'd planned. Panic blared from his every movement and muscles, as demons and vampyres fell in bloodie heaps around him as he fought his way towards me. It wouldn't be enough. In his fervor to reach me Benedict didn't see the vampyre jump out from behind a pillar, and didn't see the hilt of sword racing downwards. Benedict's eyes were trained on me the entire time. Kieran took his eyes from my when Benedict’s body fell, and he ripped into the vampyre and killed him easier. He dragged Benedict's unconscious form out of the meles, trying to shout orders at the other rebels. All around me, vampyres were screaming, running away. The lykos and his band were almost to me. I met his golden and silver gaze head on. Kieran's face looked so torn between Benedict and me that it physically hurt to see, my heart ripping for the both of us.
I looked away from my mates. I wasn’t afraid—I was resigned. I knew they wouldn’t kill me, just as I was sure I knew where the missing witches had gone. The quickest way to find out would be to go there myself, as a prisoner. As the demons pulled back, my side raced forward. They wouldn’t reach me in time.
I didn’t resist as the first demon reached me, hunger stretching his features into a grotesque mockery of joy. He ploughed into me and I fell, taking the blow to my chest. A hand covered in fur smacked the vampyre away and flung me into the wall. My head cracked against the stone, and I fell into a crumpled heap onto the floor. The vampyres and demons crowded around me, saliva dripping down onto my body.
“Severn wants this prisoner unspoiled,” the lykos-turned human grunted, his voice barely distinguishable from a threatening growl. The vampyres and demons backed off, hissing and spitting.
I grunted in pain as my body lifted, thrown across his broad, furry shoulders. Hands that ended in short, thick claws curled around my body, and I didn’t feel bad as I threw up blood down his back. He laughed, and I pushed myself up to see his face. Cruel, eyes looked back at me. I would not look back at Kieran, or Benedict. I would not, because that meant goodbye, and it was taking all my strength just to stay still, to let myself be taken—
This was the only way to get into the Overlord’s fortress, which was really the old palace of the mountain men, if Georg’s Supa was to be believed. This was the only way to find out what happened to the witches, to get them allied to us. This was the only way. The only way.
Fresh screaming came from my left, and Thad was there, cutting down everyone in his path. The demon hordes and the rebels pulled away from each other, each having achieved what they set out to do. Shackles went around my ankle and wrists, and I wouldn’t cry.
A sharp blow landed on my head, and I jerked. Unconsciousness raced up to greet me, one last thought bringing me a sense of comfort.
I knew Benedict—knew him better than he probably knew himself. He needed a purpose, something to fight for, or he was utterly lost. Benedict leading the drakens in a revolt against the Overlord would be effective, but a king and his people fighting to take back their queen?
Unstoppable.
The story continues in The Lost Kingdom: Rise of the Drakens, Book 3. May 2021.
Acknowledgements
Thank you to my close friends who put up with reading all the early drafts and sticking with me to see the full story come to fruition. Thanks to Jen and your keen eye, and Becky.
Thank you to my husband for putting up with my long hours of intense focus and making sure
