Page 76 of The Midnight Death Match
“In a city this size? That’s hardly surprising.”
Lys’s face twists up. “You don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t. Tell me as we catch up with him.” I hurry down the path my father took.
“That’s how they got past the city gate.” Lys is at my side, easily keeping pace despite being wounded. “How they knew the barracks would be empty. How they struck the archives and sanctuary first.”
“The archives?”
“It’s a spy. They couldn’t have gotten near that otherwise.”
“What’s the damage?” I pause, listening for my father’s steps. We’ve already wasted too much time.
“I don’t know,” Lys says. “They’re aiming for the city’s memory. Not just the people. The archives, the sacred grounds, the things that define Mirendel. This isn’t war. It’s erasure.”
I turn toward him, breath ragged. “Who would betray the city like this?”
His expression is unreadable. “That’s the wrong question.”
“Just tell me!” If my patience was wearing thin before, it’s barely holding together now.
He looks at me, eyes dark. “Who benefits if you fall?”
“Only every evil fae in existence. Come on.” I rush down a smoky alley, using my palm as a guide in front of me. Whichever direction it glows brightest, I go.
We come to an inner courtyard as we push through the chaos. I help lift a wounded scout, and she flinches.
“They’re here for you, aren’t they?”
Her words hit harder than her bloodied hands.
She’s not the only one watching. Fae rebels. City officials. Fighters. Their focus flicks from the blackened walls to the ruined gates to me.
“The hunter’s line is behind this,” someone mutters.
“She’sthe reason they’re here.”
I open my mouth, but no words come.
Lys steps forward, voice calm and cutting. “You blame the sword for the wound, not the one who swings it?”
Someone spits blood at the ground.
“She brings the curse.”
“Sheisthe curse!”
Before I can respond, Einar appears. “Enough!”
His voice seems to silence even the wind.
“This city stands because of us. You don’t want a monster? Then stop treating us like we’re it. Our line has been saving you for countless generations.”
“She’s more than a hunter,” says a woman in the crowd.
Her voice is familiar. Realization dawns as Vivvi steps out from the throng, her brightly colored hair and clothes vivid among the drab ash and dark chaos. Her eyes light up, turning almost neon as she takes me in.
My mind struggles to catch up. She’s involved. Is she on our side or not? The look in her face doesn’t tell me anything.
