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He moves to yank out the blade—and perhaps stab the man a few more times, which I certainly would not object to—but Lothar manages to hurl himself a couple of steps farther. He grasps the edge of one of the discarded puzzle boxes and shoves it aside while heaving himself forward.
Out into view of the audience with a sword jutting from his back.
Forty
Ivy
Lothar collapses into a heap, blood spreading across the floorboards beneath him, but the audience got a clear look at his face. They know the leader of the Order of the Wild has been quite literally stabbed in the back.
And they weren’t privy to any of the revelations or acts that led up to this moment.
Stavros races forward to retrieve his sword. He holds up his other arm, his prosthetic flashing in the mid-day sun. “Lothar Riosemek attempted to murder Princess Petra. I did what I had to do to defend her.”
For a second, the muttering in the crowd fades, and I think that might be all the explanation they need.
But even with Lothar dead, his underlings aren’t ready to give up.
No doubt they know what fate awaits them if their full wrongdoings are uncovered.
One of the Order members in a red tunic hollers toward the stage. “Lothar would never stoop so low. I hear nothing but lies. We all saw that woman who stumbled around on the stage and ran back there. Were you defending the riven sorcerer?”
I don’t know whether he actually recognized me in the brief time I was grappling with the assassin or if he’s riffing off the original plan and hoping the false version of me can still come into play. It doesn’t really matter.
The audience erupts into an angry furor.
Accusing shouts meld together into a thunderous cacophony. Amid them I make out other voices amplified over the rest, probably from more scourge sorcerers, egging the crowd on.
“This was a set-up from the start. They duped us and killed the one man who was standing up for Silana!”
“The riven sorcerer was helping the false princess all along!”
“We can’t let them get away with this! Silana deserves better.”
Petra advances with her hands held up in a gesture for calm. “My people, let’s talk about this. I saw Lothar murder my parents with my own eyes. He would have killed me then if he could have. My guards were only protecting me.”
Her clear voice carries over the crowd, but I don’t think it sinks in. The mass of bodies is already shoving toward the defensive lines of guards, gang members, and daimon that now looks far too thin.
Spectators are pushing each other as well as the figures standing between them and the platform. A stocky man throws a punch at one of the gang members, whose colleague wrenches the guy around with an arm pinned behind his back. But there are more angry citizens pressing forward all the while.
And they’re not just coming at Petra physically. A bolt of magic sizzles through the air and chars the boards inches from where Petra is standing. She retreats reluctantly and then dives to the side as another conjured attack shrieks toward her.
My hands fly up of their own accord. This is why I’m here—I’m on my own now that Sulla’s been struck down.
With a hum of extra power thrumming into me from the sacrificial accomplices, I throw up a solid barrier of air between Petra and the rioting crowd.
A spurt of flame streaks toward her and shatters against my invisible shield. Someone yelps, and another chorus of Order voices mingle with the chaos.
“That must be riven magic right now!”
“The monster is there stopping justice from being done.”
“Why would a true queen work with a woman who’s been shunned by the gods themselves?”
I grit my teeth, willing the words to glance off me without stinging. I’ve heard similar sentiments so many times, but they still prick a little.
If only they knew how far from shunned I am… Where the fuck is Kosmel right now?
We were so close to ending the Order of the Wild and their scourge sorcery for good, and now they’ve turned the tide against us in one foul swoop.
