But she could still see the chaos unleashed by the unnatural arrow. The Balenans who were visible ran frantically across the top of the wall, as incredibly—impossibly—a furiously potent flame leaped into existence at the point where the arrow had hit the drenched wood of the gates. It licked at the timber, turning solid beams into blackened splinters within moments.
The Thoranians closest to the gate had been thrown from their feet, but the archers in the ranks were ready. Seeing the success of the first one, several more soldiers pulled out similar missiles. They looked shocked at the dramatic effect of their attack, but their aim was true as they sent more of the magic arrows toward the gate. Each one created an explosion as thunderous as the first, and Lucy watched in horror as the flames spread with impossible speed. Soon the whole portal was engulfed in what she realized was dragon fire.
She turned away from the inferno, her determination rising as she once again picked out Rasad. He was issuing orders to a soldier, who spurred his own horse forward. Lucy noticed for the first time that a group of soldiers further back were overseeing teams of horses as they hauled an enormous wooden platform along the river. If they succeeded in securing it in the gaping hole that would soon be left by the disintegrating gates, the rushing river would become a clear pathway for the Thoranian troops to enter the city.
Her alarm grew. No doubt the advisor intended to advance on the city the moment the gateway was clear. She steeled herself as she strode forward, away from the shelter of the trees. She wished she’d been able to think of a clever way to draw Rasad away from the army, but there was no more time for that. Only boldness was left.
“Rasad!” she shouted, raising her blade in front of her as she paced toward him.
In spite of the roar from the nearby flames, Rasad’s head snapped around at the sound of her voice. He looked surprised, and—to Lucy’s irritation—admiring, as he looked her over from head to toe.
The men closest to him—whom Lucy recognized as some of his personal guards—started toward her, swords raised threateningly. But Rasad stopped them with a lazy hand. Lucy stalked forward heedlessly, but even when she was mere feet from him, he showed no hint of alarm from his elevated position on the back of his mount.
“Luciana,” he called, an eager glint in his eye. “I’m glad you’re here. When my guards failed to bring you to me as instructed, I was afraid you might have been killed in some kind of scuffle. But here you are, not only alive, but ready for battle.”
His eyes passed from her furious expression to her curved sword. “I seem to have succeeded after all in bringing out your full potential. I see you’re no longer holding back, and if you will allow me to say so, my dear, you are nothing short of resplendent.”
Lucy spat on the ground, her eyes narrowing as she searched his form for any opening. If only she still had the dagger he’d taken from her back in his rooms. She was a good shot with a throwing dagger. Even when she was at war with herself, she’d shown Scanlon just how good a shot. And this time she would know no hesitation. But all she had was her sword, and she wasn’t close enough to use it.
“Stop this madness, Rasad,” she said. “Either way, I promise you will die today. There’s no need to take all these others with you.”
Rasad just chuckled. “I can’t find it in me to be sorry you’re here, though I assume I have you to thank for the Balenan king’s unfortunate survival. How is it you’re more enchanting when threatening me than you were when trying to impress me? This is your natural state, Luciana. Don’t fight it. You were born to be a conqueror, like me.” He leaned forward in his saddle, and his guards shifted nervously in their semi-circle around him. “It’s not too late, you know. I can’t help but notice you’re out here with my army rather than inside the walls with your Balenan kin.”
Lucy ignored his words, well able to recognize now that he was trying to manipulate her. She didn’t care what he thought. Let him imagine her aptitude for fighting indicated a heart as black as his. All that mattered was drawing him away from the army before Qadir arrived.
“If you really want to convince me I have a place with you, come down from your horse and let’s talk on the same level,” she said evenly. She jerked her head toward the nearby jungle. “Away from your henchmen.”
Rasad chuckled. “Just because I find you delightful doesn’t mean I’m blind to the murder in your eyes, Luciana. I don’t have any desire to pit my combat skills against yours. I bring an army with me for such things.”
He nodded, and one of his guards moved forward. Lucy kept her eyes on Rasad until the man was within reach, then flashed out in a movement so swift he didn’t parry in time. He fell back, clutching his injured arm with a curse, and Rasad chuckled again.
“She might look delicate, but don’t underestimate her,” he chided. “It might be your last mistake with this one.”
Lucy raised her sword in front of her as three more guards advanced, more cautiously this time.
“Detain her, but don’t harm her unnecessarily,” Rasad instructed lazily.
Lucy felt no such need for restraint, but she knew it wasn’t enough of an advantage. And it was hard to keep her focus on her own fight when she heard Rasad raise his voice, giving the order for the army to advance. The gates must be completely destroyed.
Her blade flashed furiously in front of her, holding one attacker at bay and inflicting a superficial injury on another. But with three of them, she was quickly surrounded, and it was only a matter of minutes before one managed to pin her from behind. Her weapon fell to the ground, and the guard kicked it out of reach as his strong arms restrained her.
“Take her into the jungle a little way,” said Rasad, his eyes not on the pair. “Keep her out of the way for now. She will undoubtedly be useful later.”
Lucy wanted to scream in frustration as the guard started to drag her toward the trees. It was Rasad who needed to be removed from the area, not her. She followed the advisor’s gaze, and her heart sank at the sight of Thoranian troops pouring through the ruined gates. The wooden platform had been secured in place. It was even longer than Lucy had realized, and although not as convenient as an ordinary road, it formed enough of a pathway to allow the Thoranians to pass through more quickly than the few Balenan defenders could handle.
Battle was well and truly joined now, and Lucy’s small conflict was surrounded by the clash of metal and the shouts of men.
Just as the guard reached the tree line, Lucy felt the man’s arms suddenly fall away from her. She turned quickly, raising her fists since she was now unarmed. Her hands dropped to her sides at the sight of her rescuer, standing over the body of her captor.
“Eamon! What are you doing out here?”
“What am I doing?” Eamon protested, his expression grim. “What were you thinking going after Rasad alone, Lucy?”
“There’s no time to argue about it,” she said impatiently. “The army has breached the walls, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I had actually,” said Eamon dryly. “They were a little in the way when I was trying to get out here to reach you.”
“We can’t let Rasad get into the city,” Lucy hurried on. “If he’s inside Nohl when Qadir arrives, the dragons will probably burn the whole city to the ground, just to be safe.”
Eamon peered through the trees, his expression scornful as he took in the advisor, still seated calmly on his horse. “I don’t think he’s planning to enter the city himself, somehow. At least not until the fighting is over.”
Lucy followed his gaze, her expression hardening at the unmistakable satisfaction on Rasad’s face as he watched the battle intensify before him. “Of course he’s not. He prefers someone else to do the dirty work.” She glanced at Eamon hopefully. “I don’t suppose you brought a bow and arrow with you?”
Eamon shook his head regretfully. “I should have armed myself with one, but I didn’t even think of it. King Giles had his hands full back at the castle. At least one of his senior adv
isors, and a couple of mid-level military strategists, were under the influence of Rasad’s magic, to some extent.”
Lucy raised her eyebrows. “Where are they now?”
“In the dungeons,” said Eamon curtly. “Along with my guard.”
Lucy nodded, her eyes drawn to the fighting she could glimpse through the ravaged river gate. King Giles couldn’t have had much time to rally troops, and the awkwardness of the Thoranians’ entry point was probably the only reason the defenders weren’t already overwhelmed. She just hoped Cody was managing to stay alive in the midst of it. She knew without doubt he’d be in the thick of the fight. It was where she was itching to be herself.
But she had another job to do, and she turned resolutely away from the chaotic scene. “So how do we draw Rasad away? Even if he doesn’t go into the city, there are still way too many troops around him, with no idea of the fiery death about to rain down on them.”
Eamon frowned. “I could try to use my power to persuade him. I know Jocelyn has figured out how to use hers in its purest form, but it still comes most naturally to me through my words. That’s the way we discovered it, and the only way we knew how to use it, before Elddreki started training Joss.”
“So we need to get you close enough to speak to Rasad,” said Lucy grimly. Her eyes were on the Thoranian advisor, still securely ringed by his guards. “It won’t be easy, but I don’t have any other ideas.”
She started toward the edge of the trees, then paused, looking up at Eamon. For all she knew one or both of them might be about to die. There was surely something she was supposed to say right now, but her mind was too full of the fight to figure out what it was.
“Eamon…”
He reached out quickly, cupping one of his strong hands around the back of her neck in a gesture that was somehow both fortifying and intimate. “I know. Let’s not say it now.”
Lucy gave a curt nod, relieved there was no need to explain anything. Cody hadn’t been wrong that she couldn’t afford to moon over her prince at such a moment, and Eamon clearly knew it.
Without another word, she dashed out of the cover of the trees, scooping up her blade from where it had fallen. The drizzling rain had finally stopped, but everything was still wet, and she wiped the mud from her hilt as she ran.
Rasad glanced over, his attention drawn by their movement, and Lucy saw annoyance flash across his face at last. He and his entourage stood apart from the main force. Most of the troops were focused on their advance toward the city walls, but his guards were alert to his directions. At a flick of his hand, they advanced on the Kyonan pair.
As the first guard reached them, Lucy and Eamon took up a position back to back, blades extended and expressions grim. The guards circled them slowly, no one in a hurry to be the first to run forward.
“It seems you’ve been more of a hindrance to my plans than I’d realized, my dear Luciana,” Rasad called out.
He tried to speak evenly, and his voice curled more caressingly than ever around her name, but to Lucy’s ears he sounded put out. Apparently Eamon’s survival irritated him more than King Giles’s. She smiled grimly. It seemed the calculating advisor wasn’t entirely above the petty emotions awoken by his rivalry with the prince, after all.
Unfortunately, neither was Eamon. She heard him growl at the familiarity of Rasad’s words, and she could sense his focus slipping. One of the guards saw it, too, lunging forward to attack the prince at last. Eamon held him off skillfully, but the clash seemed to be the signal for the rest of them. Within moments they were both battling for their lives.
“It is a delight to see you in action, my dear,” Rasad said, his words addressed to Lucy, but his eyes on her companion. “It really would be a dreadful waste for you to perish alongside this stripling.”
To Lucy’s relief, Eamon gave no outward reaction this time. Whether it was because he realized Rasad was trying to bait him, or because he was too hard pressed by his fight, she wasn’t sure.
“If we’re close enough for him to taunt us,” she said quietly, her voice coming out in a pant, “then we’re close enough for him to hear you.”
Eamon gave a curt nod, even as he lunged suddenly forward. The guard dueling with him went down hard, and didn’t rise. Others were waiting to take his place, but they hesitated as the prince called out.
“Rasad! Is your whole strategy built on tricks and counterfeit? Or do you have anything real behind the facade?”
The Thoranian chuckled. “My tricks, as you call them, have proven fairly successful, don’t you think?” He gestured around to the battle.
“But there’s no substance behind them,” Eamon argued, his eyes on the closest of the guards, who was inching toward him again. “You couldn’t even get our delegation to Thorania without subterfuge. Your messenger claimed there were Kyonan descendants wanting our help, but no such people ever emerged.”
“The success of that trick lies entirely at your door,” said Rasad, watching Lucy’s ongoing struggle with a casual air. “I wanted you to come, and I knew I could count on your arrogance to do the rest.” He scoffed. “As though any Thoranian, regardless of ancient Kyonan descent, would ever wish to relocate to your inferior kingdom. But I knew all I had to do was plant the idea, and your royal house would be conceited enough to race to the rescue, as if only the great Kyonans know what we barbaric South Landers need.”
He nodded, and one of the guards engaged Eamon again, the clash of steel momentarily silencing their conversation.
“Poisonous words, Rasad,” Eamon grunted, his tone clipped as he held the guard off. “But still just words.”
Rasad’s voice turned indulgent. “Do you think you can shame me into fighting you, little prince? I have nothing to prove to you.”
“Not to me, to yourself and your king,” panted Eamon.
Rasad’s smirk became a frown. To Lucy’s amazement, he waved a hand, calling off the attack. The guards dropped back a step, maintaining a loose ring around Lucy and Eamon. Lucy wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, trying to catch her breath before the unexpected respite inevitably ended.
“I am proving my worth and my loyalty to my king as we speak,” said Rasad, a bite in his voice.
“But are you?” Eamon pressed. “Can his empire last if you build it through deception and paltry tricks? King Giles is not dead, as you’ve seen. Why not come down from your horse, and treat with him man to man? Negotiate the outcome you want, with everything in the open, and then no one will be able to take it away from you.”
Rasad’s frown deepened, and Lucy could see that the contrast drawn between this forthright approach and his own underhanded tactics had rattled him. She was impressed—she would have had no idea how to use the power of stability to try to destroy rather than build confidence.
Almost as if he didn’t realize he was doing it, Rasad dismounted, striding up to the Kyonan prince. “Listen here, boy. The Thoranian Empire will be the most secure in history.”
“Nothing stolen can ever be securely held,” Eamon contradicted, and Lucy realized to her surprise that she was nodding in agreement. She shook her head to clear it. She might not be able to sense magic, but clearly she was still affected by it.
But apparently Eamon had pushed his power too far. Rasad’s expression suddenly sharpened, and he took a step back.
“You’re using it now, aren’t you?” he breathed. “I can sense it. My word, you must be skilled at holding it back for me not to have felt it before now. It’s powerful.”
Lucy’s heart sank. Evidently Rasad’s dabbling in magic had given him some kind of sensitivity to it. Quite apart from her alarm at the unmistakable greed in Rasad’s eyes, she knew from what Eamon had told her that when someone was aware of the power, they were less likely to be manipulated by it.
They needed a new plan, and quickly. But they were surrounded and outnumbered, and Lucy could think of nothing.
A sudden rushing sound made them all look up, and Lucy’s heart
seemed to jump into her throat at the vision of menace now filling the sky.
It was too late. They were all going to die.
Chapter Forty
But although several reptilian shapes were grower larger by the second, none of the creatures looked like the dragon-ruler who had promised to return with swift vengeance.
They were all dragons, certainly. And there was no denying they made a terrifying picture, talons, scales, and razor-sharp teeth all glistening in the weak afternoon light as they descended from above.
But there was something strange about their shape. Lucy ignored the screams rising from every side, focusing on the dragon in front as she tried to identify what it was. The dragon was almost upon them before she realized the anomaly wasn’t part of the beast, but a burden it carried.
The creature, whose scales were a mixture of blue, green, and purple, landed in the space in front of the gate, supremely unconcerned by the seething mass of men who had filled that place moments before. Of course, the ground was clear by the time the dragon’s talons alighted in the mud, all the fighters scrambling in their haste to get out of its path. It uncurled its front claws from its load, and Lucy started forward with a cry.
“Jocelyn!”
The princess’s head whipped around, and she stumbled toward them, looking windswept but determined. Lucy hadn’t even realized that Rasad’s guards had all retreated at the appearance of the dragons, but no one hindered her as she ran to meet her friend.
“Are you all right?” Jocelyn asked, gripping Lucy’s shoulder. Her eyes passed to her brother behind, and Lucy saw the relief on her friend’s face as she confirmed they were both alive and unharmed.
“We’re fine,” said Lucy quickly, scanning the other dragons who were landing beside the first. She let out a long breath at the sight of her brother being placed on the ground by another dragon, this one a smaller beast with dull red scales. Kincaid landed soon after, carried by a yellow dragon, and Lady Yasmin was the last of the strange burdens to be released.
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