Page 54 of Kept

We smashed their mirrors too. No sound had ever pleased me more than the crunch of glass under my charger’s hooves.

And Captain Drago had been right. Hitting the South before they learned of our troops from the Wastes gave us an edge. In their victory, the humans had grown arrogant. And their arrogance had led to complacency. As their mirrors cracked and crashed to the cobblestones, the southern knights turned and fled.

Laurent dismounted and pursued them on foot.

I cursed and shoved my visor up. Immediately, the sun seared my skin. “What are you doing?” I demanded in Laurent’s head.

He ignored me, his mantle flaring around his ankles as he strode up the street. Menace clung to him once more, black ribbons of power flowing off him. He was terrifying in his rage.

But he couldn’t sustain it for long. Like the fireworks the merchants of Lar Katerin shot off every First Winter’s Moon, Laurent’s fury was fiery and short-lived. If he burned out in the street, the Sithistrans could kill him. Or he’d fall into blood lust, and I’d have no way to force him out of it this time.

A Green Guard charged from around the corner of a building. As I kicked my horse’s flanks to intercept, Laurent flung out an arm. “Amet.” Stop.

The male dropped to the ground, writhing as he clawed at his neck like he was choking. And he was. Laurent had stopped his heart and lungs.

Two more Green Guards skidded around the corner with swords drawn. They looked at the male on the ground, then lifted their eyes to Laurent.

He raised his hands.

The soldiers turned on their heels and ran.

It went on like that, my knights charging the Sithistrans and smashing their mirrors. They cut down stragglers, showing no mercy. Laurent took care of the few southerners who managed to evade the knights’ swords. His voice throbbed with power, the bly’ad echoing in my ears. I could never repeat the power words. They didn’t belong to me. Laurent had earned them, facing down death for the privilege of speaking the language of the gods.

The Sithistrans were unprepared for his rage. They were also ill-equipped to take on knights from the Wastes. The humans had attacked a city garrisoned by competent but comfortable soldiers and men-at-arms. The knights from the Wastes were no such thing. Honed by brutal winters and the direst fighting conditions, they cut through the Sithistrans with little fanfare. Their heavy swords swung, sparing no one. Soon, blood soaked the ground, the red forming tiny rivers that cut through the ash left by the city’s fallen.

Even as we gained momentum, the sun was brutal. It turned armor into an oven, each knight’s body the vulnerable meat inside. The bandages helped, but they couldn’t block everything. We fought among the sickening scent of our own cooking flesh. My skin smoked under the cloth that encircled my limbs. Given had wrapped me herself, her efforts a macabre version of a lady tying her favor to a knight’s lance. She’d kept the bandages loose per my direction, but the bands of cloth made it difficult to move. My reaction time was slower, my sword like a thousand-pound weight as I cut and slashed and protected my king and queen.

Radu stuck to Given like glue, and I was grateful for it. She didn’t know I’d assigned him to protect her—and keep her in the rear of the action—but she’d probably figure it out. And if it displeased her, well, I could work with that. I’d enjoy it. And once she realized she’d enjoy it too, maybe she’d forget to be angry with me.

By the time we reached the Sanctum, the Sithistrans had all fallen back or fled. My knights searched the temple and pronounced it clear. The inside was untouched, as if the humans had feared disturbing the house of the vampire gods.

A wise decision.

Laurent paused on the Sanctum’s threshold and addressed a bandaged and sweating Lar Guna. “Dismount and come inside. Bring the rest of the lords with you.”

Lar Guna scrambled to obey before the bly’ad punished him. He landed on his feet with a jolt and staggered backward, nearly falling on his ass as the knights from the Wastes watched dispassionately.

I swung off my horse, then helped Given dismount. I cradled her face in my hands and spoke in her mind. “All right, halfling?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Lie. She was fierce, but she wasn’t built for the carnage of war. It didn’t make me think less of her. Bloodshed rarely made sense. Yet the world clung to it, repeatedly turning to violence as if it might offer some new solution. It never did. The only thing war had to offer was death. And Given was a creature of life. If that hadn’t been clear to me before, it was now. The scent of her roses lingered in my nose.

She reached up and touched my cheek. “You’re burned.”

“It’s nothing.” My helmet was too close-fitting to allow for her bandages, so I’d roasted under the steel. But we’d reached the Sanctum like Laurent wanted. He and Given were alive. I’d accomplished my mission and protected the male and female I loved.

I couldn’t wish for better than that.

“Come,” I said, taking Given’s hand. “Laurent awaits.”

We entered the Sanctum that way, our hands joined for all the knights and lords to see as we went to meet our king.

Chapter Fifteen

GIVEN

Laurent forced the lords of the Council to kneel against the back wall of the Sanctum. A row of knights stood behind them, ensuring they couldn’t leave.

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