Cloak of Night (Circle of Shadows #2) - Evelyn Skye Page 0,8
he could tell. Or maybe it didn’t affect him because he was essentially a parcel being transported from one place to the next, like the citrus crate Sora had hidden in when they were on Prince Gin’s ship.
She set him down carefully on the battlement. “Everyone all right?” Sora asked.
“Yes and no,” Broomstick said.
Daemon crept up to where his friend was peering through the crenellations at the Citadel below.
“Daggers,” Daemon cursed. The ryuu weren’t up at the castle anymore, as they had been after the battle. They were swarming here at the Society’s headquarters, at least a thousand of them taking it over as though the Citadel was theirs. Sharpening swords in the armory courtyard. Training in the sparring arena. Meeting in the outdoor amphitheater. They just hadn’t been guarding the entrance because there was no one—other than Daemon, Sora, Fairy, and Broomstick—to attack.
And the ryuu seemed more organized than Sora had accounted for.
“We need to split up now,” Sora said. “Rendezvous in Jade Forest in three hours. But whoever finds Empress Aki first, don’t wait. Grab her and get out. All right?”
“All right,” Fairy said.
“And remember, if you can kill Prince Gin, do it. His death ends everything.”
They huddled for a moment, each knowing—but not saying—that this could be the last time they were together. The grimness was like a knife at Daemon’s throat.
“We’ve got this.” Sora stacked her fists over her heart. “Work hard. Mischief harder.”
Daemon took a deep breath. Then he pumped his fists to his chest, too. He was here. He was a part of this, whether he liked it or not. And hells if he was going to let his friends down.
“Good luck, League of Rogues,” Daemon said. “We’ll see you on the other side.”
Chapter Six
As Spirit and Wolf took off to make their way up the mountain to the castle, Broomstick and Fairy surveyed what had once been their home. The Citadel had always been a dark place—black was the color of the Society of Taigas, so all the buildings were black—but there was something else now that seemed like an eclipse over the headquarters, a bleakness that swallowed everything the Society stood for. All Broomstick’s nerves stood on end, and he had to steady himself against the battlement wall.
“I suppose it’s time we split up, too,” he said to Fairy, nervously tapping his fingers on the nearest crenellation. Spirit had suggested it because Broomstick knew the warrior side of the fortress better. He had worked in the administration offices in Warrior Meeting Hall, and he and Wolf spent lots of time after hours in the nearby sparring arena doing extra drills.
Fairy would search the student part of campus. She knew all the best places for hiding. Plus, she could fit in passageways that Broomstick couldn’t.
“I don’t want to split up either,” Fairy said. “But Spirit’s right that it’s smarter for us to divide and conquer.”
He pinched his lips but agreed. “Keep our gemina bond open. I suppose we should get going. Time’s ticking.”
“Yeah,” she said, although she didn’t move. Their connection vibrated with an anticipation that was half hope they would succeed in finding Empress Aki and ending this nightmare now and half fear that they’d discover something even worse than what they already knew.
Fairy went first, giving Broomstick a short nod before disappearing over the fortress wall, climbing down the handholds placed on the interior of the wall to allow taigas to defend the Citadel from invaders. He watched until she melted into the darkness like a shadow. Then he made his way down and headed to his first destination—the Society’s training arena.
Broomstick crouched in the stands and stared wide eyed at the sparring below, full of new recruits freshly hypnotized by the Dragon Prince. A short distance away, Blade, a girl who had lived down the hall from Fairy and Spirit, summoned gravel from the arena floor and formed it into giant axes and battering rams. Her hold on ryuu magic faltered every now and then, and the weapons would disintegrate into gravel again, but she kept at it, sweat dripping in rivulets down her face.
Near her, eleven-year-old Quicksand was enhancing typical taiga spells to make them better.
“Gods, no,” Broomstick whispered. He was Quicksand’s mentor in the school’s Exemplar Program, which paired young students with older ones they could look up to. Broomstick had known Quicksand when he was a tenderfoot still called Wyato, because he was too young for a taiga name.