Page 131 of Of Shadows and Blood

To defend the kingdom.

My kingdom.

Just once.

Two younger cess emerge from the crumbling building as the dust settles. Their hands wield raw magic as they fight another’s magic, though both powers are equally matched. I need to get a sword. Now.

Over my shoulder I spot a fallen body, the uniform unrecognizable under the filth and blood. I sprint around two groups in arms and quickly shift the fallen’s hip to release his belt and sword. I try not to cringe and mutter my apologies to whoever it is. We’re all souls who deserve some respect in our last moments, regardless of sides.

Listening to my instincts, I run. But run from the battle, I will not.

A shriek fills the air and when I turn to see the source, I see the two cess who were engaged in combat lifeless on the rubble. A younger soldier of Lux drops to her knees and wails over their bodies.

They weren’t expecting the attack now.

To my left another group of cess are sliding across the grass, their defenses slowly begin to falter as their well of power depletes. Duresden’s own legion is relentless with burst after burst battering their shields.

Their heels drag into the muddied ground, teeth gnashing as their hands blast with everything they have left to give. They’re going to burn out, my magic pulses when I sense this.

We’re all semi-connected, in a way. We serve the same giver.

I begin another sprint towards them, hurdling over fallen stone from the tower when a blast of air knocks me back. My stolen blade falls in the cracks of a destroyed room and I ease myself up from the side of a stone wall. I can’t find anyone I recognize but I can see some of our soldiers holding down the center of the west field. Everything is happening at once. Assailants in Duresden’s uniforms continue to pour in from the breached walls, more blasts follow.

This is the coup.

Poe kicks the legs out from a soldier as another comes swinging with a battleaxe, his fangs snapping at Poe’s neck. The two parry and try to land their blade on one another, jumping over rubble. He makes clean work of his opponent in a quick swipe at the throat, blood pouring everywhere as he beheads the vampyr. A human soldier in tatters runs full force and Poe skewers him through his midsection. My stomach lurches at the scent.

Human.

I’m useless unless I feed. I require blood if I am going to stand a chance here. As if on cue, a soldier with a battleaxe comes running at me with his arm raised. Unarmed, I jump out of his way and land on my back. He turns to swing down again so I roll out of the way. A chipped sword sticks out from the building and I pull, and pull, and pull to free it. The blade comes loose at the last second as he runs at me again. Lacking strategy, the momentum behind his swing knocks him off balance and I shove my blade between his ribs from behind. As his body falls, my glistening blade shines before me.

Blood.

His heart thumps slowly, trying to pump any blood through its circulation. The wound slowly leaks out as he tries to sit up right.

Attacking a human, drinking straight from the source, it has never been an option. I would never take this in normal circumstances. But this isn’t an act of malice, this is an act of survival.

I jump on him, latching my mouth to the space between his throat and shoulder. Not the best place to pull blood but it works. Dead blood could be fatal so I pull heavily giving myself no time to breathe in between. The euphoria ignites my body, as if pinpricks of warmth skate over my skin. On my last sip, I lick the wound clean and mercy kill him to finish him off, my blade making one last puncture wound in the center of his chest.

“Liv!” Avonde screams motioning me over to her near the stables. I release a breath knowing she is alive. Duresden’s soldiers now outnumber Lux’s and too many cess lay strewn on the grass. Many were young or barely trained in combat.

Out of nowhere, a soldier launches herself at me from the smoke of the tower blasts. Her hair is tied up in a spiked bun. Her grand sword knocks me back, causing me to trip on my heels. My own sword is entirely too long, but balance is not something I can be picky with right now. My bare feet scream over the broken bits of stone surely embedded in my skin. I should find shoes.

“Pretty,” she taunts as she looks down upon my body. “A shame, too.” The soldier swings hard and fast, giving me half a second to roll out of the way. I was too slow, the edge of her blade catches my upper arm but I bite back the pain and find my feet.

No weakness, no mercy.

Throwing all my force behind the sword, we begin to parry. Trained, she avoids my jabs with grace, but I’m faster. My arms scream and burn but we continue. The soldier switches grips on her weapon before she catches another slice on my arm. Thank the Gods I have blood healing me faster than before. Nothing can hold me back.

I’m screaming and thrashing, ducking and jabbing. Doing everything Cedric and Garreth taught me before I left Lux.

The hard part about a fight – war, too – is someone has to falter. Someone will fall. Someone will die. Someone will lose. That is the only way this ends. That is, until a third person enters the fight. A large man with half his uniform hanging off his body saunters into the fight, the female soldier maintaining her stance while I fight to keep my sword raised.

I notice then that the noise of the surrounding fight has dwindled. No secret as to which side quietened. My heart squeezes but I can’t think of that.

“This her?” the new soldier questions. I swing down upon him but he merely steps out of the way. His eyes catch the blood-red streak on my hair. I spit on the ground, baring my teeth. I will fight.

“Mhmm,” the other soldier nods. I stay in my stance, slowly backing up with my eyes on them. Other fighters for Rolan begin to make their way to us and I begin to feel awfully claustrophobic. “I remember that face,” she snarls.