Page 36 of A Kingdom of Destruction

Voices grew louder, and she stopped at the end of the hallway, rooms on either side of her. Many of the doorways were shut, but one of them rested open with a small sliver of light shining from the interior.

“We don’t have time to delay, Your Majesty! The mortals will cross the border within moments. They might have already made their way over our lines,” a male said urgently. “They’ve employed our own shielding techniques against us.”

“The guard we’ve appointed will be a match for a group of rogue mortals. Anyone who goes against the decrees of theirking will not be well prepared, especially after their travels. No doubt if they’ve stormed our lines, then they are operating without King Fergus’s knowledge or blessing.”

Aven jumped. That was Cillian. She recognized his voice.

But what did they mean? There were humans heading toward the palace?

She shouldn’t be there listening to their meeting. Definitely shouldn’t creep closer to get a better picture of what she heard.

But she did.

“Sir, with all due respect, there are more of them than we thought. If they’ve come with vengeance riding on their heels, they will be a difficult foe to overcome. We should not underestimate them. Our scouts say they are loaded with weapons—” the first man added.

“Then we will be prepared for them,” Cillian interrupted. “Do you think so little of our forces, General?”

An alarm rang out through the entire palace, different from the bell-like tone Aven had heard a few days before. It speared her ears, and she dropped, covering her head with her hands.

“Alert the guard! Send the palace into lockdown.” Cillian called out the order, and she caught the sound of stomping feet from inside the room. “The mortals are here!”

They’d come for her.

She knew it in her blood and bones and soul. Whoever they were, they must have come all this way to get her back.

Aven rose, an insane laugh bubbling out of her. Her men had come for her, and she was going to fight her way out of this palace or die trying. Before Cillian and the others could leave the room, she raced down the hallways back to her room to grab whatever she could find as a weapon.

14

Agroup of rogue humans defied King Fergus to rescue their princess.

The realization was a song in her veins, and Aven pumped her arms, racing down the halls back to her room to grab her wand. Amidst the screech of the alarm, soldiers and nobles seemed to separate from the walls themselves, and suddenly there were more bodies in the palace than she’d ever seen before. Maids scurried, liveried butlers and houseboys ushered the wealthy into safe spaces, and she alone fought her way against the tide.

Whatever lockdown meant for the fae, she needed to be outside the palace walls before it happened. She wouldn’t have much time, buthellif she’d leave without the wand in hand. She’d meet up with the band of humans and use it to fight their way back to her father.

Home.

Her lungs seized, and every breath she drew was hard after too many days of inactivity. Her muscles would need to warm and loosen for her to have any hope of fighting.

The disarray would work in her favor. The confusion would provide the smokescreen she needed to get the hell out of this gilded cage. She skidded to a stop outside her room, gripping the door handle and using it to propel her way inside.

Surely Cillian had taken anything he deemed dangerous out of the space, but there had to be something she could use, reserving the wand for when she really needed it. She’d already scoured through the dressers looking for something. She grabbed hold of one of the candleholders, testing its weight. Metal but not sharp enough to do any kind of damage. Heavy, though.

It would have to do.

She grabbed the wand from underneath the bed and tucked it into her skirt pocket.

Aven gripped the fabric in one hand and the candleholder in the other as she ran down the hallways. A smile split her face. This was it. The moment she’d been waiting for. One last leg of the journey and she’d be out of here and back where she belonged.

Now she wouldn’t have to choose between the fae brothers, the icy, pigheaded Roran and the lying, emotionally unavailable Cillian.

It was much easier than she thought to fall back into familiar patterns. Her body knew exactly what to do. Some things were a part of her, as much as her blood and her bones, and Aven fell back into a familiar rhythm. She lifted the candleholder high, brought it down with all her strength on the head of one of the passing guards. The hit barely made a dent in his helmet, and she launched herself at him. The surprise of the attack worked in her favor as well. The fae soldier didn’t expect her to wrap her arms around his neck and yank him back off his feet, using his body weight against him. Didn’t expect her to slam the candleholder against his temple and send his helmet flying. Shebrought it down again and again and again until blood erupted from his split skull and his eyes rolled back in his head.

None of his comrades stopped to help him.

None of them even knew he’d gone down.

Once he crumpled to his side on the floor, she unwound herself from him and reached for his weapons. A sword, much longer than she would have liked, but serviceable. She tested it and gave the blade a flick through the air while she got her breath back.

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