Page 191 of Mother of Death and Dawn

“You’d better guard that thing with your life,” Sammerin said.

I planned on it. I prayed I wouldn’t have to use it.

I stopped walking and frowned. Something was strange. Something felt… odd, deep beneath the surface of my senses and my magic.

A flash of gold hurtled through the air and landed gracefully before us.

I knew immediately that something was wrong. Ishqa looked slightly panicked.

“The king is here,” he said, the way someone would warn that the ground was about to open up beneath their feet.

I looked to the east, and my heart stopped beating.

The king is here,Ishqa said, as if it was one person.

No. At the gates was an Ascended-damnedarmyof Fey—hundreds, perhaps even thousands, rolling in a wave down the hillside.

Cold fear settled over me. We had not been expecting this.

Frightened whispers already rippled through our rebel ranks. They’d been prepared to inflict vengeance on their former abusers—but most of them, save for those who had been at Malakahn, had never encountered so many Fey before. Killing a bunch of out-of-shape slave owners was one thing. Going up against thousands of Fey was another.

Serel already paced up and down the lines, trying to talk them down.

“Go.” Filias grabbed my shoulder and pushed me forward. “We’ll lead. Go find her.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I ran.

CHAPTERSEVENTY-THREE

AEFE

It felt good to be looked at with this much fear. These people—these selfish, pathetic humans—looked at us like we were gods.

I wanted to laugh. I felt more powerful than I ever had since returning to this body. I was a little drunk, too. Meajqa had slipped me a flask before we entered the city, and I had not cared to turn it down. I wanted to feel unstoppable.

Meajqa had given me a nod and a wink then, practically playful. Now, his face was stone as he stood next to me. I followed his stare—followed it to the Aran queen, who stood near the table. Beside her was Tisaanah. The sight of her, even from a distance, made my heartbeat quicken.

Caduan entered the ballroom first. He observed the party with a frigid stare.

“What is this?” he said, in Thereni. “We were not invited?”

For a long moment, all the humans were still. At last, Lord Zorokov rose. “Get out of my home.”

Caduan’s laugh was the edge of a blade. “You call this a home? This is not a home. This is a prison.” Guests scrambled away from him as he crossed the room, one portly woman tripping backwards over a chair. He regarded her with cool disgust. Then his gaze settled on Nura, and the disgust turned to outright hatred. “But I suppose lack of respect for life is a common trait among your kind.”

“We aren’t—” Lord Zorokov started.

“No need. Save your words. I know what is happening here, and I am not even surprised by it.”

One of the noblewomen let out a strangled cry and dove for the door. Luia caught her arm, yanked her back, and in one smooth movement, gutted her with her blade.

“She would not have made it far,” Caduan said calmly. “The doors are barred.”

Lord Zorokov advanced, fury settling into the lines of his face. “You don’t know who you’re threatening. You can’t do this to us.”

“I am not threatening. I am warning. And certainly, Icando this to you. I don’t need you anymore.”

Perhaps once, Lord Zorokov had been considered a great warrior by his people. Perhaps that was how he’d gained his power—by speaking the only language humans knew. Perhaps by those standards, the lunge he made for Caduan was a skilled one.

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