Page 126 of Song of the Heart Scale
I descended the ridge with Uncle Bai beside me. Each step brought a new weight to my chest. As we passed through the camp, soldiers looked up. Some nodded. Others touched their weapons. One young girl barely old enough to be a soldier paused in lacing her boots to stare at me. I gave her a nod.
The twin flame mark burned on my forearm beneath the leather bracer.
Cat.
She was in there. Somewhere beyond those enchanted gates. And Thorne—
I clenched my fists. It took everything I had not to lose myself in the rage. Not now. Not yet.
Lord Mercer waited near the edge of the command post, his eyes as sharp as the spear strapped across his back. He was already in his armor—polished jet with a blood-red insignia stitched across his sash. The commander of the Nightwing looked like death incarnate. I was glad he was on our side.
“The soldiers are ready to move on your command, Your Highness,” he said with a short bow.
It still felt strange—being bowed to.
“Any sign of movement inside the valley?”
The commander shook his head. “Minimal patrols. They’re not expecting a coordinated assault.”
“Good. Keep it that way.”
A horn echoed to the west. One long note.
Everyone stilled.
“The fae are in position,” Uncle Bai said quietly.
My heart thundered as I turned to the cliff again. Somewhere in that valley, Cat was either imprisoned or fighting to stay alive. And Thorne... Thorne would never see the dawn of another day.
“Light the signal,” I ordered.
Lord Mercer raised his arm. A moment later, a streak of flame shot into the sky from a dragon stationed at the ridge. It arced high and burst into shards of brilliant gold.
The battle had begun.
Chaos exploded all at once.
Fae archers rained silver-tipped arrows down from the western tree line, taking out imperial sentries posted along the outer walls. Explosions rocked the southern gate as Lord Mercer’s siege mages cracked the enchantments with fire and force. War cries filled the air—blended from throats of human, dragon, and fae.
I charged forward with the first wave.
My blade sang as it left its sheath, the steel glinting in the morning sun as we thundered down the ridge. Dirt and ash kicked up around me as dozens—no, hundreds—followed. Battlecries ripped through the air. The roar of a dragon echoed from above as Uncle Bai shifted mid-leap, his massive form taking to the skies to meet Thorne’s sentries head-on.
Steel clashed with steel. Magic hissed like acid. Fire erupted in geysers as wards failed and towers exploded.
I dodged a bolt of magic from a palace warlock and closed the distance, slashing my sword across his chest before he could conjure a second strike. Blood sprayed across my armor.
I didn’t stop.
We were cutting through the outer defenses like wildfire.
But it wasn’t easy.
A group of Thorne’s dragon guards landed hard, sending a shockwave through the ground that knocked half a dozen of our men back. I slid into a crouch just as one of them barreled toward me, shifting mid-run. I rolled and came up beneath his wing, then drove my sword into the softer scales near his ribs. He roared in agony and twisted away, and I used his momentum to leap up and drive a second blow into his neck.
The battle was everywhere, punctuated by smoke, screams, and the acrid copper tang of blood in the air.
I caught a glimpse of Klaus darting through the chaos with knives flashing in each hand, his fae glamour wrapped around him like glistening armor. He grinned as he passed me, slicing down one of Thorne’s men with a flourish.
