Page 117 of War Hour

Sar snorts. “Because you are known for your lack of enemies. For example, the assassin who can turn your power off real quick. And he won’t be looking for Lord Gennady or Evander. He’ll be looking for you.”

My mind races. What do I do if Sar won’t take me to Truth? There’s no way I can get there in time, plus I would have no inkling of where I was going. I needed her to take me. It was the only option.

“I need you to trust me to do this, and it needs to happen now. You always talk about how Ardis and Torryn protect you, even when you don’t need it. Right now,I don’t need it, Sar.”

And like that, I can see that I’ve broken through. Sar looks down at her feet, and when she looks back up, I have to hold down a cheer of victory. “As soon as I’ve reached all the courts, I’m going to Truth right after you.” She shakes her head with wide eyes. “Trials, don’t make me regret this, Lysta.”

Chapter 47

Stepping through the portal to the Court of Truth is paralyzing.

Not from the awe of Sar’s power, but from the contrast between peaceful night and devastating chaos. Screams echo all around me with no scrutable origin.

The bodies of guards line the floor—of the Court of Truth, from their navy uniforms. Their blood pools on the marble floor and runs like a river down the hall. It’s smell overpowering my senses till I can taste it in my mouth.

Staggering against the wall, I press a tight fist to my mouth to ward off the urge to retch at the sight. So many dead. From both sides.

This shouldn’t have happened yet. My mind races, searching for an answer or explanation. If Sar’s vision was true, then Lord Drytas’s army was a couple of hours from breaking through the gates. Then how were so many dead within the castle walls already?

A loud explosion jolts me into motion, breaking me from my trance. Head on a swivel, I creep down the hallway, peering into every room and window I pass. Fire lights my way from lit sconces and fallen torches that burn next to their holder’s body.I consider taking one with me, but in the darkest hours before dawn, the light would only be a beacon guiding others to me.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

I freeze, molding myself into the corner of a door frame at the noise sounding from down the hall. It sounds again, ringing loud with purpose. It’s a dull thud, like two solid forms hitting in succession.

Holding my breath, I lean forward to glimpse what unfolds a dozen paces away.

Two of Valor’s guards stand in their gray uniforms, trimmed in Drytas’s red. They stand on opposite sides of a solid stone column that hovers a few feet above the ground. Hands outstretched, they work together to pull the idol like a battering ram, slamming it with ground trembling force into a pair of closed doors. The door shakes and rumbles with each hit, cracking at the point of impact.

What could they want so desperately? My eyes drift to the crimson stain of blood that permeates the fabric of their sleeves and torso. It can’t be anything good.

Can I take the two? Would my shield hold back the weight of the column if I became their next target?

I take one step back, planning to retreat down the hallway I’ve come when their next hit cracks through the door like the sound of lightning.

They’d made it through.

The two men grunt in victory, letting go of their battering ram with a resounding thud. Turning, I watch as one man sticks his hand through the newly made hole in the door, a chorus of screams echoing when he does so.

My face blanches in realization. People were in there.

Moving out into the hall, I dig down, bringing my shield to the surface. I’ve used my shield like this before—twice, in fact...by accident. Once against Lord Drytas and then against Torryn during War Hour.

When the shouts from behind the door surge in a mixed cry of panic and fear, I can feel the power at my fingertips. My shield blasts out in a perfect arc, slamming the two men into the wall. Disoriented and groaning in pain, the men struggle to stand from where they crumpled up upon landing. One’s arm dangles awkwardly at his side—dislocated.

As they’re distracted, I run up behind them, dagger removed from the sheathe at my thigh and in my hand at the ready. I launch myself at the injured guard, stabbing the dagger into the space beneath his arms. He freezes underneath me, coughing up blood, before slowly teetering to the ground. I stop myself from going down with him, but my knife remains lodged in the space above his ribs.

Spinning on my heel, my hand already grips the hilt of my sword, yanking it from its sheath. Before I can ready the weapon, the other guard knocks into me, locking an elbow around my throat. I kick and squirm, dangling as the guard summons his sword from where it had fallen when my shield hit him.

My hand follows his, using my shield to block him from retrieving his blade, but that can’t save me from suffocating. Lungs begging for air, I slam my elbow into his torso, but he doesn’t release my grip. Dots speckle across my vision.

Is this really how far I would get? One fight into battle, and I’m destined to lose?

In an instant, I’m dropped. I greedily gulp in air as my knees hit the marble floors. I turn around in time to see the guard get a sword through his chest.

The man who killed him. Severin. Lord Gennady’s second hand and the Truthsayer.

His gaze is cold when it meets mine. I can only guess what those eyes have seen in the last few hours. Severin holds out aleather gloved hand to pull me up. I hesitate at the vicious look in his eyes before taking his hand.

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