Page 154 of A War of Three Kings

“Fuuuck.” Drake grabs my arm and forces me to move faster. “We aren’t going to have enough time!”

I immediately see it. Guards breaking and running away from the wall. Others fighting each other, the bloodbath escalating as a handful of royal guards turn the wrench to open the gate.

“Yes, we fucking will,” I growl.

We run like the Wild Hunt itself is on our tails. I don’t know which would be worse: those feral demonic horsemen of the Shadow Court, or this mob.

I glance over my shoulder and out the windows again. The main gate of the palace is halfway up, and the mob are ducking under it and streaming up the great steps to the grand entrance.

The corridor leads to a large ballroom, echoing our crashing footsteps back at us as we race for the far side, ignoring all the opulence. I burst out first onto a wide landing at the top of a broad staircase that glitters with gold-veined marble, set face to face with the advancing mob.

The people are frenzied, with wide eyes and frantic movements, pouring in from the main entrance of the palace and darting in great hordes down the intersections of different passageways. They carry makeshift clubs and butcher’s knives, many already bloodied.

They are still a level below us, but as my people pour out behind me, there is a roar from the crowd and dozens charge up the stairs. Fuck. Edmund let them in too soon. We thought the palace guards would slow them.

“A change of plans,” I yell to my people, abandoning the staircase I was going to take to the throne room and runningalong the elaborate balcony that overlooks the madness below. “We’ll use the servants’ access.”

With a flick of my wrist, I throw an air volley down the stairs, thrusting the advancing people off their feet and arching backward into empty space. I don’t want to kill humans, but I won’t allow them to delay us. The thought of the mob reaching Keira before I do turns my blood to ice.

These possessed people don’t care for politics, or a cruel king and innocent queen.

They want death and mayhem.

I tear open the door to the much narrower passage and charge through, following corridor after corridor, turning left and right.

“This is a less direct path,” Cyprien grunts at my side. “It will take longer.”

I glance sideways at him as we pass a huddle of maids whimpering in a corner. “Longer than cutting our way through that crowd? It is only going to get thicker.”

I skid to a stop at a door, knowing we need to pass back into the main palace before we can reach the throne room. I motion to Silvan, my fingers clutching the handle.

“Cloak us,” I command the moment he reaches me, and the air instantly ripples before us with the evidence of his invisibility shield.

I swing open the door to a huge, open receiving room, absolutely swarming with a sea of bodies so thick they can hardly move, despite how they thrash. Caitlin whispers a curse behind me. I close the door just as quickly, throwing my back against it, mind whirling as I run through the blueprints once more.

My eyes snap open to my warriors staring at me. “The Crystal Ballroom,” I say. “It is the only other way.”

“Through the music storeroom.” Drake agrees. We all take off again.

Keira, dear heart,I plead.Tell me you are safe. That the mob hasn’t found you yet.

My heart clenches as panels and doors fly past us. I have waited too long for her reply.

Oh gods, they’re in the palace, aren’t they?Keira finally chokes.They’re not here yet…but Aldrin…I’m afraid. I’m defenseless.

Something inside me breaks at the waver in her voice.I won’t let them touch you,I promise, even as a desperate fear claws within me that I might not get to her in time.

We reach a music room with hundreds of instruments neatly stored on shelves. I don’t slow my pace until I am at the door to the Crystal Ballroom.

I whirl to my people. “We are out of options. We will cut a path through whatever is out there,” I growl, then swing the door open.

The mob is far thinner here and has turned to looting. Many pull down statues of the mad king, laughing and whooping as they crash to the ground. Others use daggers to pry decorative hunks of gold from the walls and furniture alike. They hardly notice us as we pass.

When we burst out of the ballroom and into the wide corridor beyond, it is teeming with people racing to the throne room at the far end.

“Palace guards!” a ratty, blood-streaked man bellows, pointing at us. “Kill them!”

Humans race at us from all directions, many of whom have commandeered swords that they have no idea how to hold.

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