Page 122 of War Hour

Evander chuckles darkly. “No, Lysta. He plans on giving away the crown—not to me.”

“You don’t know that, Evander,” Lord Gennady pleas from somewhere behind me. “I merely wanted the people to have a say. To vote on who would rule them. Who says that person couldn’t have been you?”

“It’s too late for that,” Evander says as he storms toward his father. Sword raised, I cut off his path. He sighs, looking down before glancing at me. “Lysta, you know you can’t beat me. Maybe you could have if you were able to use your powers, but there’s no way you will win this. Don’t make me fight you. You’ve been using that sword for a few weeks, if that.”

“Then you shouldn’t have betrayed me.”

In a heartbeat, Evander sweeps forward, pushing his sword against mine, the blade scraping together. Unable to hold the weight, Evander knocks the sword from my hands, and it clatters across the floor. “Stay out of this, Lysta.”

Moving for Lord Gennady once again, Severin steps in his path, raising his own sword. It happens in slow motion. A twist of blades. Some clever strikes. Whirling around on his knee, Severin aims a strike to Evander’s lower torso that is blocked. Then Evander lands a hit that cuts diagonally across Severin’s face from his taller position, and I gasp. Severin’s head turns to the side from impact, and when he looks up again, a bloody gash travels across the right side of his chin, slanting up and over his nose and ending above his eyebrow.

Evander brings the hilt of his sword down over Severin’s temple, and with a sickening crack, he crumbles, falling to the ground in a heap.

I don’t have the time to react before a sharp blade presses to my throat. An arm wraps around my chest, pinning me to my attacker.

“Evander, cut it out with the dramatics. Drytas wants these two dead, and I can think of no better gift for him upon his arrival than their bodies at the gates.”

Panic grips me, and I look to Evander out of instinct. His eyes meet mine, and I see the struggle locked inside him. His jaw clenches, the muscles there twitch with tension. He glancesbetween the knife at my throat and Lord Gennady, who stands quietly, awaiting his end.

“Killing him wasn’t a part of the deal,” Evander grits out. He takes one cautionary step forward, away from Lord Gennady, watching the blade at my neck with extreme focus. “And I can as sure as Trial guarantee you she wasn’t.”

The man behind me grunts out, “That was when she wasn’t supposed to be here. Drytas has been calling for her head since day one.” He pauses, knife pressing harder to my throat. “That gonna be a problem for you?”

Evander glares at the guard with slitted eyes. “Not at all.” Evander says cooly. ”But I think I’d rather have that confirmed by Lord Drytas, and not some low level guard.” He gestures to Lord Gennady. “Take him to Lord Drytas. I’ll handle the girl.”

My heart freezes. Is Evander really allowing for this to happen?

The guard passes me to Evander, moving for Lord Gennady, who stands docile, no fight left in him. In one swift moment, he turns, impaling Lord Gennady on his sword.

I scream, horror sweeping through me as the kind lord buckles, landing on his knees. My heartbeat races in my chest as the world around me goes silent. It’s as if all I can hear is the blood rushing through my body.

Evander freezes, not moving—not breathing at the sight of his father. That is when I go feral. Screaming, clawing, fighting my way to Lord Gennady. Ripping free from Evander, I press my hands to Lord Gennady’s wound, pressing tighter until more blood pools around my hands. Tears soak my face and blur my vision.

Lord Gennady’s eyes glisten as he stares back at me. His gaze moves past me to his son.

I look to Evander, begging him silently to do something—anything.

Evander blinks rapidly. Watching as his father slumps to the ground in front of him. He clenches his hands, staring at the body, before turning to Lord Gennady’s murderer with a darkened gaze.

“There a problem, Lord Evander?”

Evander shakes his head tightly, flinching at the title.

“Then grab her. Lord Drytas will be here soon.”

The guard raises a hand, lifting Lord Gennady’s body and I go after him, but Evander stops me. He wraps both arms around me, pinning my hands down. I go slack in his arms, letting him drag me to my death.

But instead of following the guard, he pulls me toward the Trial door. Juggling me in his arms, he brings one of my hands to the door, holding it there with his own.

“Come on, Lysta. Get it together,” He whispers harshly in my ear.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” Someone shouts from the other side of the room.

Evander curses. “Trials, Lysta.” He shakes me, gripping my face to make me look at him. “Do you consent to Trialing in the Court of Truth?”

When I say nothing, he slaps my face lightly, as if trying to will me into action.

“You die here, or you get a fighting chance in there, Lysta. So, answer me, do you consent?”