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“Bryony,” Lenora said. “If those doors open while the marks are active, they’ll attack.”
Stellan pulled the broken dagger out from under his boot. Blood soaked his shirt and spread lower from the wound in his side. He looked ready to fight every guard left in the court.
He could barely keep his shoulders level.
“You’re not fighting them,” I said.
His gaze met mine. “That sounded dangerously close to an order.”
“Sit down before Lenora tackles you.”
He braced one hand against the throne instead. I accepted the compromise because the doors shook again.
The Crown had shown me Harrowmere’s locks, wards and old chains. The marks inside Adrian’s guards felt different. They didn’t belong to Harrowmere. They were thin hooks pushed into living blood and held there by an authority that had just died.
I reached through the Crown for every hook.
Heat rushed down my spine. White light travelled across the throne-room floor, slipped under the doors and spread through the lower court. The guards struck the doors once more. Their blows stopped as the light climbed their bodies.
The marks resisted until I tightened my hands around the arms of the throne and held on. Adrian had built his commands out of pain, fear and years of obedience. Those things had weight, but they had no right to stay.
“His authority is dead,” I said. “Release them.”
The white light sharpened.
Red lines tore free from the guards one after another. Each mark burned for a heartbeat in the air, then vanished. Men fell to their knees across the lower court. A few dropped their weapons. The rest stared at their hands as if they had only just got them back.
Lenora let out a breath. “Open the doors. And you,” she said to the freed guard beside her, “stand well away from the opening.”
He moved quickly, and I opened the doors wide enough for Lenora to step through. Stellan pushed away from the throne.
“Stay there,” I said.
His mouth almost curved, but he stayed where he was.
Splintered benches covered the lower court, and one wall had cracked. Adrian’s guards knelt among broken weapons and blood, their faces blank with shock.
Lenora stopped in the doorway. “Adrian is dead. His commands are gone.”
A guard with blood drying over half his face looked up at her. “Commander?”
“Not anymore.”
“What happens to us?”
Lenora looked back at me.
Every eye in the court followed hers. The Crown grew hot while Harrowmere waited for my answer.
“Put down your weapons,” I said. “You’re leaving.”
One of the older guards frowned. “Leaving for where?”
“Anywhere outside my gates.”
“You can’t send us out unarmed.”
“You came into this court to help Adrian murder us. I can send you out naked if you want to argue.”
