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A momentary guilt washes over me that I wasn’t expecting, but it’s gone the moment I rip that blade free because my father stares at my brother as he falls limp to the ground, then looks up at me and roars.
It’s deafening.
He draws his sword and charges, slicing out at me. I jump back out of the way then roll to the side to avoid being hit. He swings without hesitation, uncaring of whatever he hits on the way. I roll forward and slice out with the blade, catching the back of his calf.
He roars once more and charges toward me. I jump up and grab the chains that once bound me, using them to pull my body up so I can avoid having my legs cut out from under me. Then, I bring the dagger down to my father’s neck. It buries in his spine, and he falls forward, landing on his knees.
I move around in front of him, bending down to lift his sword.
“You are a mistake,” he spits out, blood dripping from his mouth.
“No,” I reply. “I was the one decent thing you did with your entire miserable life. And I want you to die knowing I am going to cut down every last Tenebris soldier, slaughtering your legacy right along with it.”
“You don’t have the nerve.” He glares up at me, more hatred in his gaze than I ever thought possible.
“I have that and so much more.” Raising the blade, I swing it, severing the head from his shoulders. He falls to the ground, and I slump forward, staring at the body of a man I once feared above all else. The victory feels too quick, as though I should have taken my time in making him pay.
But Carleah is more important than any vengeance I might have over my father, and getting to her before they leave Soreno is the only thing I can think of. With my father’s sword in my hand, I turn to Bowman and freeze in my tracks.
“No. No!” I rush forward and undo the shackles around his wrists. He slumps down in my arms, and we sink to the floor. Blood coats his chest, pouring from a wound in his side that must have been inflicted when my father came for me.
I drop the sword and press my hands to it, but the blood doesn’t slow.
“You are all she has left,” Bowman chokes out, tremors wracking him.
“No. Bowman, you have to survive. You can’t leave her.”
“I—” He continues convulsing.
I meet Lacrae’s gaze as he remains seated beside Alysia’s body. The loss reflected in his gaze tells me he wishes it was him and not Bowman bleeding out on the floor.
“You’re all she has, Fort,” he repeats. “Please. Save my sister. Please,” he begs me. My throat burns with emotion, my heart little more than a beating pulse keeping me alive. Watching the final Rossingol brother die in my arms is a new kind of torment.
One I know I will never be able to unsee. It will haunt me until my dying breath.
Heavy footsteps echo in the hall just outside, and I glare forward. This is it.
“I’m sorry I failed you,” I tell Bowman. “You were the closest thing I had to true brothers, and I let you all down.”
“No. You didn’t. But we let Carleah down. She’s—” He stops speaking, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I wish I could tell her—”
The footsteps reach the door.
“You can tell her yourself,” I lie as I set his head down on the cool stone and stand, lifting my blade as I go. I may not survive what’s coming, but I will not go down without a fight.
So, amidst blood and death, I stand.
The door opens.
And Salma steps inside, right beside the Dwarven king. Her piercing gaze travels around the room. “What the hell happened here?”
Relief floods me. “Healer? Do you have a healer?”
She looks behind her. “Healer!” she bellows.
The dwarven king rushes forward, stopping just before Bowman. He strips out of his coat and drops to his knees, applying pressure to his wound. “Where is the queen?” he demands.
“The king of Soreno took her. He’s the—”
