Page 91 of Court of Wolves

No, he had to hope others would resist even if they were killed here today. Zamanya and Evrille would rally the rebels. They could keep Vassalaer, could make it a safe space for anyone fleeing… well, whatever was happening out there.

Jaro nudged Az again as they left the coliseum and strode down the pale corridor, the dusty scent of the palace filling Jaro’s lungs along with a tingling buzz of power. Alotof power. And was he seeing things, or were the plants crawling up the columns and choking cracks in the walls spreading out, claiming more land? He exchanged a glance with Az but Azrail’s gaze was fixed ahead, on the back of Samlyn’s head. Fuck. What was Jaro going to do? Urgency burned, but he needed the exact right moment, and waiting for it was torture.

“There,” Scylla said, gesturing with a graceful hand at the long, ivory-scaled tale of a drake. “The question is, how did it get in?”

“Through the window by the looks of it,” Samlyn said with a deep sigh. “The question is, did one of the pets summon it or did it come of its own volition?”

Scylla took a long, deep inhale, and a deep instinct in Jaromir screamed at him to run, that a predator had caught his scent and would catch his throat in its jaws.

“It’s not claimed,” Scylla said, flowing down the corridor like a force of nature, kicking aside a weed that sprang through a crack in the floor. “Not yet. Karmen calls for aid.”

Samlyn groaned. “She promised she could keep her pets under control.”

“Like yours are under control?” Scylla asked wryly. “The beast that trots behind us has his own mind.”

Now, Kaial roared.

Jaro dropped every pretence of his magic being a struggle. He plunged into the frozen pool so hard the whole surfacecracked, grabbing fistfuls of ice and hurling it at both saints as he stepped in front of Azrail.

Shards of crystalline magic drove through Samlyn’s back; Scylla threw up a hand, scattering the magic destined for her into ash. “I told you so,” she taunted Samlyn with a smile, shaking her head when another terrifying, primal roar came from the drake just ahead of them. If it turned around, it could blast them into ashes.

Again, Kaial ordered. Jaro was already grabbing more magic, throwing daggers and spears of his dagger-sharp magic at Samlyn, not wasting more power on the queen of saints. He didn’t hope to kill them, only to weaken them long enough to escape.

How do I free Az of their control?

It’s in his blood now, Kaial replied, his voice taking a sombre tone Jaro didn’t want to hear.

Fuck that. How do I free him?

There’s one way—

Kaial’s voice died when figures rushed past the long, ivory tail of the drake, two stumbling and leaning into each other—Vawn and Ark, both smeared with blood—one tall and messy-haired and wan as he strode ahead, a dagger in hand—Kheir—with the final man at his side, bristling and massive with a long sword in his hand, clothes stained dark, and pure rage on his face—Bryon. Kheir and Bryon scanned the corridor, protecting the others, and ground to a halt at the sight of Samlyn and Scylla, Jaro and Azrail. Jaro wanted to weep, wanted to fall to the ground.

Because there she was, striding forward with her hands raised, vivid tension in her whole body, and power clinging to her skin like drops of moonlight itself. Maia was here. She was here, and full of power, andfurious.

Cold golden eyes assessed Jaro and Azrail, then fixed on the saints. Her head tilted in an unnatural, eerie swoop. The edges of her mouth curled into a vicious smile.

“Come to die, too?” she taunted, the sound of her voice like a dagger to Jaro’s chest. He’d failed her, and he didn’t deserve her, but he’d deal with that later. Now, he was just so happy to see her, hear her, draw her scent deep into his lungs, that he wanted to sob.

Scylla and Samlyn had faced the bigger group of threats; Jaro was forgotten. He would have smiled if he could. Instead he reached across the frozen pool inside him and told Kaial,give me everything you have.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

They were here, they wereallhere, and finally the missing pieces of Maia’s soul snapped into place. It didn’t matter that there were saints and drakes in this court, or that she was outmatched and overwhelmed. It didn’t matter that they were bleeding and weak and starved. Maia’s soul was complete—almost, almost complete,a tiny voice whispered, remembering a dusty shop room full of warped glass bottles and sarcasm.

Jaro was covered in blood, his fur slick and dark with it, and Azrail was… a sharp, jagged lump swelled in Maia’s throat when she met his eyes. There was no recognition in those beautiful sapphire eyes, no emotion at all. No anger, no frustration, no relief at the sight of her, not even pain.

Rage lit its flame against her soul as she reached for him and found a cold, yawning emptiness on the other side. His soul still oozed poison into their bond, still blackened the branches. It had formed a pool in the middle of her glade, dark and ominous. A problem for later, she decided when two saints blocked off her path to her mates. One she recognised from the saints' circle—a tall, rake-thin man with long grey hair, skin a shape even paler,and a thoroughly unimpressed expression. The other she’d never seen before, but power clung to the woman. She’d be an issue.

But the Eversky had been an issue, and now she splayed unconscious and dazed behind them, the drake keeping her surrounded like a prison cell with scales and sharp, wicked teeth. Again, Maia reached for Sephanae and jolted when she felt her absence.

You’ve stepped into your power, into your title. Sephanaewasthe Iron Dove. Now Maia Nysavionisthe Iron dove.

Maia was the Iron Dove. It didn’t matter who these bastards were when they stood between Maia and her Jaro, her Azrail. She was a saint, and she wasenraged.She increased her pace until she was running, tunnelling into her power and ready to make both these saints scream, to watch their eyes run with blood. But the first attack came frombehindthem before she could even strike.

A bubble of hope and laughter welled in her chest as magic drove into Samlyn like shards of glass from a shattered window. One buried in his throat, more in his stomach, another between his eyes. It was enough, for a moment, to halt the saints where they stood.

“Hit them with everything,” Maia hissed to her mates, to whoever still had magic. “Vawn, stay back with Ark. Kheir, protect them.”

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