Page 110 of War Hour

“Stay there!” I shout, keeping my head turned down the hall. I don’t face Bash as I tell him my plan. All the guards can see is Neith and myself. They don’t know that the five of them stand ready in the wings. “They don’t know you are there. We can ambush them,” I hiss, getting to my feet.

Weapons now in hand, the guards give up on their aerial attack, rushing toward us. Raising their swords high in the air, they give a loud cry before attacking my shield.

I stumble from the sudden force, each strike making my arms shake with the effort of holding up the barrier. It feels as if my muscles hold the weight and not my will.

Sweat drips down my brow, racing for my neck. Step by step, I let myself be pushed backward, bringing my shield along withme. As the force field recedes, the guards push on, shouting in victory.

Following my lead, Neith, and I move away from the line until our backs press into the wall. Neith sends me an anxious look, struggling—not fighting back—but struggling to trust me with his life.

“Lysta,” Evander warns.

I shake my head at him once, hoping he’ll stop whatever he wants to do.

The guards pass the end of the hallway, stepping out into the open. I hold my breath, waiting for one of them to turn their heads a few inches to the right and catch sight of the rest of the team standing in the wings. But they never do, too focused on the two intruders trapped before them. I’m sure the bounty on my head is plenty of a distraction.

I watch, heart pounding, as Visha, Evander, and Jona slide into the hallway. Standing behind the guard with their weapons poised. Bash swoops above them, wings spread as he soars over the guards before landing beside Neith and I.

The guards startle at his sudden presence, following where he’d come from over their heads to find the others behind them. While they may have the numbers, we have them surrounded.

But this doesn’t need to come to a fight. Our issues are with Drytas, not the people blindly following his rule. I had been the same not long enough ago.

“We mean you no harm. Let us pass through to the Trial, and we can resolve this without battle,” I say confidently despite the tremble of my fingers.

The men grumble in front of us, and I can feel their ridicule as they glare at me menacingly. “We let you go, and we are as good as dead when Drytas gets back. It looks like we’ll take our chances in battle.”

My heart stutters in my chest, and my throat gets tight as I ask, “Gets back? Where is Drytas?”

The guards exchange a look but don’t answer my question. With a roar, they charge, splitting up between sides. The sound of swords clashing echoes off the stone walls, followed by the grunts of effort and pain.

It’s a dance of blood and steel, as both sides fight for the upper hand, but the guards don’t stand a chance. Who knows how much training they have received, but it’s obviously incomparable to the Heirs. The Heirs who have been preparing for war since their birth.

I can’t help but flinch as Visha throws several daggers in rapid succession. Each landing deep in the chest of her target before they stumble to the ground. Her face is one of complete focus as she bends to pull each of the daggers from the prone bodies. But her eyes never leave the fight edging on around her, scanning for her next target.

Bash pumps his wings as he soars toward his victim, latching his arms around them as he lifts higher. The guard’s feet kick in the air as they leave the ground but stop in an instant when Bash turns their head forcefully, breaking their neck.

Despite being the youngest of us at sixteen, Jona has no problem holding his own as he moves from one guard to the next. While his movements lack the fluidity and smoothness of the others, they certainly do not lack the precision as he cuts down his opponents with his dual swords.

My stomach rolls at the mangled body that slumps to the ground, but I’m distracted as I catch sight of Evander fighting a guard, sword to sword. Another guard edges behind him, and my eyes widen.

“Evander!” I shout his name, but it’s drowned out by the sound of the fight. Raising my shield, I separate Evander from the attacker. Before I can be relieved, a battle cry echoes behindme, and I turn, flinching as a guard moves toward me, blade aimed for my torso.

Before I can even debate moving the shield to cover myself, a white wing moves between me and the guard. Bash.

Their actions are blocked from me, Bash’s wings concealing their bodies. It is not until a sword pierces through the white feather wing, staining it a cherry red, that I spring into action.

Bash yells in anguish, folding his wings in as he kneels, but not getting rid of them entirely. When his wings close, I get a glimpse of the guard who’d tried to attack me. Bash’s sword deep in his chest.

Bash took my hit, dealing out his own while protecting me.

Another guard rushes toward us, but I fling up my shield, separating Bash from any further threat. Kneeling in front of Bash, I hold my hands out, unsure of what to do with the blade protruding from his wing.

My hands shake as I lean forward to ask, “Bash, what do you want me to do?” He leans forward onto his hands, head hanging down as he mutters something ineligibly. “Bash, I can’t hear you. What do you—”

“Take. It. Out.” Bash grits the words out between clenched teeth.

“Are you sure? Can’t you just get rid of your wings?”

“I would still have the injury, but somewhere else. My form shifts to create the wings.”

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