Her gaze wandered to the altar lit up with the light of the symbols carved into stone. Armand straightened, planting himself between his aunt and Addie.
“Why her?” he asked, voice husky.
Gandrett noticed from the side that Armand’s free hand was signaling something with tiny gestures.
“Why?” Linniue shook her head, annoyance slipping through her mask. “Always those same questions. Why? How does it work?” She glanced down at Addie, that annoyance turning more pronounced. “I have been waiting for almost a year to get her ready, you know?”
“Ready for what?” Gandrett’s voice was carried by the freezing haze that escaped her mouth.
The symbols started pulsing beside her as Linniue took a step closer.
“What is this place?” Armand demanded.
Linniue’s lips twitched. “Welcome to the temple of Shygon.”
Gandrett’s breath caught. “The god of—”
“Of dragons, my dear. That’s the one.” Linniue took another step closer and rested her palm on the ignited stone, face ecstatic. The guard stepped to her side, marveling at the altar. “I wanted my son to be here to do the honors,” she spoke as if only half-aware they were there.
Armand started gesturing again, pointing down at Addie, opening and closing his hand, and then swishing it aside.
It took Gandrett a moment or two to figure out what he wanted to tell her.
But she couldn’t just leave him there with the crazy one. She shook her head.
“Grab her,” Linniue ordered with a nod at Addie’s lifeless form.
Gandrett stepped to Armand’s side, blocking the path, Nehelon’s knife ready to take out an eye.
“Allow me, milady. I am not certain she is even breathing.” The guard’s statement was punished with a slap of Linniue’s slender hand in his face. He winced and engaged Armand in battle with one well-placed strike of his sword while he seemed to ignore Gandrett.
“Why are you doing this?” Gandrett tried the one thing that had always helped her. A moment to figure out the opponent’s weakness before the attack. Linniue didn’t let go of the altar but raised one hand toward Gandrett with a smile. “You’re sure asking many questions for one of Armand’s numerous conquests.”
For some reason, her words hurt more than a blow of a sword. She was just about to tell her how wrong she was about her nephew, how he was the true hero of Sives, the true unifier of a land plagued by war and terror, and that she’d better show him some respect—the true Lord of Eedwood—when Linniue’s eyes turned milky, and she opened her free hand toward Gandrett.
A streak of blue flame surged from Linniue’s palm, sending Gandrett stumbling to the side, and she landed next to where Addie was slowly turning blue on the frozen ground. Somewhere behind her, metal was battering down on metal.
Before she could spend a thought on what was happening, flames licked in their direction once more, and she threw herself over Addie. Flames hit Gandrett’s back in full force, their touch like little blades made of ice rather than the hot, singeing fire in the hearth she had left behind in her chambers. A groan of pain beneath her filled her chest with relief. Addie was still alive.
The pain in Gandrett’s back was nothing compared to what she had endured less than a day ago. She just needed to get to her feet, and she’d pin Linniue’s other hand to the altar, too.
“Dragon fire,” Linniue giggled, ecstatic, marveling at her hand. “I wish Joshua could see this.”
“I am most certain he’d love to see it,” Armand’s hands circled Gandrett’s arm, lifting her from Addie. “Before he hands you over to my father so justice can be executed.”
Gandrett scanned the room for the guard, half-expecting him to appear out of nowhere and stab Armand in the back, and spied him on the ground, throat slit and eyes rolled back in their sockets.
Her stomach lurched.
Linniue’s hysterical laughter filled the dome. “Lord Hamyn doesn’t get a say in this,” she said and let blue flames dance at her fingertips.
Gandrett needed to put an end to this before she hurt Armand.
“He only hears what I want him to hear; he only sees what I want him to see.” Linniue let her fingers slide over the blue lines in the stone as if she were tracing the symbols.
“He’s under your spell, too?” Armand spat the words, little shock in them but laced with true disgust. “Who else?” he asked, voice harsh like thorns as he inched toward his aunt, sword at the ready. “Is it only Joshua and my father who you enslaved through your spells? Or am I also your victim, just oblivious?”
Linniue jerked her chin at the dead guard. “All my guards are under my spell. Not my spell. Shygon’s spell. It’s the god of dragons who gives power. My power comes from him. So will Joshua’s. As for you,” she pointed her finger at Armand as if it were a dagger to pierce through his heart. “If it hadn’t been for your mother and that nurse-maid she hired for you, you would have been long gone.”
Armand had turned paler than he already was in the frosty air at the mention of his mother.
“Your mother knew everything about this place. Every dirty little secret. Every passage, every tunnel.” She stopped, her milky eyes faking pity as Armand wordlessly listened. “What? She only told you about the Dragon Water? How well it heals injuries? She wanted a good son. A proper son. And an impeccable successor. Someone who would lead Sives back to peace.”
Gandrett had heard about Armand’s mother’s wish to finish what she had started. A better Sives. A peaceful Sives. With the true heir to both lordships as king.
“If your mother hadn’t hired a Vala-blessed to protect you, you would bow to me the way they all are or will be very soon.”
Gandrett’s heart stopped. “Vala-blessed,” she repeated in a whisper. “Deelah is a Vala-blessed.”
How could she not have noticed? The kind, humorous woman who had tended to her from her first day at Eedwood was a Child of Vala. A Vala-blessed, with the mission to watch over the heir of Eedwood. To protect him from evil with her prayers to the goddess.
Armand blinked, wordless.
“So how did you find out about these caves, Armand? Did Deelah finally tell you?” Linniue ignored Gandrett’s realization.
Armand broke free from his momentary petrification. “How dare you manipulate my court? Your own son?” His voice was deadly. Icy, making the frost on the walls and ground appear like a spring breeze. “He would have taken the throne without your interference, aunt. And he would have been a good king of Sives.”
“King of Sives,” Linniue laughed, flames flickering between her fingers. “Who is speaking about a king of Sives? Joshua will be Emperor of Neredyn. Sives is just the beginning.”
Mad. She was mad.
“All I need is for you to hand me the girl“—She pointed at Addie—“so I can finish what I’ve started—before I finish the two of you.”
Armand hesitated a moment too long as another surge of blue flame erupted from Linniue’s hands. It hit him in the chest, throwing him back like a ram.
Gandrett darted to his side, her own spine protesting as she bent down to assess his state.
His eyelids fluttered a couple of times as he blinked away the force of the impact, features twisting as he cursed away the pain.
“We need to get her out of here,” Armand hissed, eyes on Addie, “before it’s too late.”
Gandrett followed his gaze to where Addie was slowly freezing on the ground. There were only two ways this could end: either they got her out before Linniue could get her hands on Addie to sacrifice her to the god of dragons, or they’d have to stop Linniue.
Just as if Linniue had heard her thoughts, she sent a wave of flames toward Gandrett, making her stumble back a step. But no matter the pain, she remained on her feet. She couldn’t—wouldn’t give up until Linniue was defeated, or the third outcome would have to happen, and that was something Gandrett didn’t even want to think—she would have to end Addie herself so w
hatever horrible sacrifice to Shygon would be prevented and even worse consequences be stopped.
“Take her,” she urged in a whisper. “She won’t be able to walk, and I can’t carry her.”
He didn’t give any indication he was going to lift Addie from the ground. Instead, with a whirl so fast it surprised even Gandrett, he darted for Linniue, sword lifted over his head in preparation to strike. He attacked like the wolf he’d slain to protect her, fast and deadly. And he’d come so close. So close—
Blue flames surged toward him, hitting him in the chest once more and causing him to drop mid-leap like a sack of flour. He hit the ground with an echoing thud where he remained as lifeless as Addie.
“Nooo!” Armand had given enough, sacrificed more than any of his people knew. He didn’t deserve to die here, underground where no one would ever know—let alone believe—how he’d met his end. He was the future of this court.
Gandrett braced herself for the all-consuming fury in her and let her instincts take over.
Linniue was still smirking at Armand’s sagged shape as Gandrett flicked her arm, releasing Nehelon’s knife, sending it right toward Linniue’s heart.
The woman screamed in fury as the blade got stuck in her shoulder.
Only her shoulder. Where Gandrett never missed a target, anger and real emotion had made her sloppy. She loosed a string of curses.
But Linniue had already regained control over her body, now sending lances of fire toward Gandrett, keeping her busy dancing and whirling between them, left with nothing to defend herself from such an attack.
At a glance, she saw that Armand was still down.
Linniue dragged Nehelon’s knife from her shoulder with a smile, stopping the attack for a moment, giving Gandrett time to catch her breath.
Behind her, Addie’s breathing had turned shallow enough to tell that she was fading.
“If she is dead, I can always use your lover,” Linniue said, nothing human in her voice. Her hand never let go of the altar almost as if she was drawing her power from there.
No. Not Addie. Not Armand. No one would be sacrificed to an outdated deity of terror and blood.
Gandrett’s hands trembled.
No one would harm her friends. No one.
Heat washed through her. Energy. She couldn’t tell where it originated from, only that it was there and that it was strong. Way stronger than when she had incinerated Nehelon’s dagger and the chain around Joshua’s neck.
And the ground began shaking where her feet stood on the frost. Linniue halted, the smile that hadn’t left her face despite the stab-wound on her shoulder now fading, Nehelon’s knife clutched in her hand.
“What is this?” Linniue asked, eyes on the dragon fire illuminating the room. “Is it you, my Lord?”
Was she speaking to Shygon? By now, nothing would surprise Gandrett.
But the tremor in the ground didn’t come from the god of dragons. It came from within her, and as Linniue realized that the ground was cracking open between them, she stumbled one more step backward.
What was happening? Last time her magic—if it truly had been hers—had manifested as fire. As burning heat, able to melt steel. What was unfolding before her now wasn’t even remotely comparable. If she didn’t find a way to stop, the canyon that was spreading would swallow them all.
Gandrett didn’t dare move for fear the crack would move with her and swallow Armand, who was so close to the ground rift that part of his arm hung into it.
“Armand,” she called, voice raw with strain.
To her relief, he lifted his head with a groan, and as he noticed the gap clearing his shoulder, he gave a solid curse.
“Get up,” she cried, hoping he would understand without explanation that this wasn’t the time for heroism but to save his own ass. “Now!”
He crawled to all fours then inched away from the canyon.
Stones were beginning to crumble from the ceiling.
But Gandrett didn’t dare move as much as an inch, anxious she would make it worse.
“Stop it.” Armand had realized what was going on, eyes wide with something more than fear. “Stop it or you’ll bring down the castle.”
“There must be a sacrifice,” Linniue screamed from the other side of the canyon, voice half-mad.
Gandrett didn’t know what would be worse—if she managed to stop and Linniue got to sacrifice Addie or if they all died in an attempt to halt her from beseeching the god of dragons for power.
Before she could make up her mind, an avalanche of stone fell from the ceiling, cutting Linniue off from them. Gandrett threw herself back over Addie, protecting the girl from the rain of gravel while Linniue’s shriek tore through her mind like a bolt of lightning.
The trembling stopped, and the rift yielded as the energy in Gandrett came to a halt. She panted, sweat beading her forehead and neck, making her shiver in the stirred cold.
“Get Addie out of here,” Armand said. An order this time. “I’ll take care of my aunt.” His tone promised violence.
So Gandrett obeyed. With her last strength, she pushed herself up enough to slide off Addie, who no longer groaned, and tried to heave her off the ground.
“Watch out!” Armand’s warning came too late as Linniue sent another line of flames after Gandrett. They brought her flat to her stomach where she landed with a rib-shattering crash, and the moment she was down, Linniue aimed for Armand, attempting to do the same.
Gandrett’s anger flared again. Linniue couldn’t win. Not like this. So she summoned that heat that had incinerated the dagger. That heat that had saved her from Joshua. And released it on Linniue.
The sound of more gravel falling and the hissing of fire on ice filled the air.
Then a scream followed by a whimper. Gandrett couldn’t prop herself up enough to tell what had happened, but Linniue’s voice returned to that whispering chant from her nightmare, speaking those prayers to the god of dragons until they ended in a gurgle.
Armand felt the tidal wave of heat flooding through the chamber, leaping over the canyon too wide for even him to jump across. He ducked away, shielding his face, and with gritted teeth, waited for it to fade. So strong. Her magic was like a force of nature. If she truly hadn’t known until recently, it had surely occurred at the perfect moment to save their asses.
The air tore from a scream. His aunt’s scream. A sound that pierced him to the marrow of his bones. Then the muttering in that strange tongue began, making his hair stand on his neck.
But only so long—
For it soon got weaker and weaker until it faded into a whisper and ended.
The heat—probably deadly in any other environment but the frosty caves of the last Dragon King’s dragon—subsided, and Armand dared to lift his head and peek over the rocks.
On her island of stone, enclosed by half-incinerated boulders and canyons, on the glowing altar, lay Linniue Denderlain, Gandrett’s dagger sticking from her blood-drenched chest, one hand still clutching it tightly where she had pushed it into her own heart, and lines of crimson were starting to drown the symbols in the stone.
Chapter Forty-Five
Armand’s voice was the first thing she heard as he muttered her name, close enough to her ear to tell her he had made it through Linniue’s attack, that he had been able to at least crawl over to where she must have collapsed.
“Can you hear me?” His voice was raw like the void in Gandrett’s chest where her magic must have been a moment ago—or a lifetime.
A warm hand touched the back of her head, stroking over it so gently she wondered if it could be him. Sobs were breaking the silence otherwise filling the chamber.
With a swimming head, she tried to piece together what had happened—what she had done. The canyon. The collapsing ceiling.
Out. They needed to get out.
Dust and stone pushed into her cheek, cutting into it as she shifted her head to glance up at Armand. She sucked in a breath through gritted teeth.
> “Thank Vala.” Armand’s face was above her in an instant, one hand gliding under her neck and shoulders as she rolled to the side in a slow and rocky movement. “I’ve got you.” With some effort, he pulled her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest, shaken by more sobs.
“It’s over,” he whispered in between, arms closing around Gandrett more tightly.
Gandrett just rested there for a moment, letting his rocking movements take her away from the horror of what she had done.
“Linniue?” She shot out of his embrace, nearly hitting her head on his chin, and blinked at the thin lines the tears had cleared along his blood and dirt-smeared cheek.
He shook his head, and Gandrett knew who those tears were for.
“She betrayed my mother. She betrayed me. She betrayed all of us.” His voice hitched.
Gandrett couldn’t tell if she had ever seen someone so broken. Even the children they brought into the priory every year cried from fear, from being homesick—not from the deep-rooted sense of betrayal that shone from the hazel depths of Armand’s eyes.
There were no words that may soothe him, not when the pain was that of a fresh wound to the heart, so Gandrett sat up and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him tightly to her like she used to do with her brother when he was little, like she had done with the new arrivals every spring at the priory. Like she hadn’t been held since the day she’d stopped crying.
Over his shoulder, she could see Linniue’s body draped over the altar, blood streaming from her pierced chest. It hadn’t been Gandrett who had killed her, but Linniue herself who had plunged the dagger into her own heart. What had been her last words? There must be a sacrifice.
Gandrett didn’t dare consider the meaning of Linniue’s words or the consequences of her actions. For now, all she could think of was the broken man in her arms and the sensation of relief as the glowing of the symbols faded and the flickering of the flame of dragon fire above Linniue’s body dimmed.
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