caught her wrist and flung her to the floor bright with glass, kicked her in the side again and again.
The Sauvillier soldiers in the loft shot their arrows. Audric dodged them, ran for the dais. To his left, Sloane pulled shadows from the hall’s corners, cast them into sharp-beaked hawks. They dove fast, repelled every new arrow shot. Evyline and the Sun Guard rushed forward, their swords flying. Some of Merovec’s soldiers tried to flee, screaming in terror as Atheria snapped at them. Kamayin whirled, her wrists blazing. She reached for the seven prayer basins lining the room and smacked the fleeing soldiers with foaming fists of water.
An archer crouched in the loft sprang to her feet and shot an arrow at Atheria. It struck her right shoulder, near her wing joint. She shrieked and dove for the archer, who shot her again, this time in the thick muscle of her upper left leg, but didn’t have time to nock a third arrow before Atheria reached her. She grabbed the archer by her throat and flung her hard to the floor below.
Audric raced up the steps of the dais and unsheathed Illumenor. His power raced through his body, crashed into the sword, then ricocheted back into him, flooding his veins with blazing heat. An endless cycle of power, blade to blood to blade again. Gold danced before his eyes, but instead of obscuring his vision, it enhanced it.
He swung Illumenor. The sword’s brilliance erupted, blasting the room free of shadows. Everyone fighting staggered, shielding their eyes.
Merovec left Genoveve bleeding on the glass-strewn floor and spun to meet Audric’s sword with his own. Their blades crashed together. Audric bore down on him, Illumenor crackling with trapped sunlight. Merovec cried out, looked away from the impossible brilliance, but held his sword fast.
“You won’t win, Merovec,” Audric told him. “Surrender, and you will live. Resist, and I will destroy you. I don’t want this for you or for me. We are family. We are children of Celdaria.”
Merovec thrust the weight of his body up against Audric’s sword, unlocking the grip of their blades. He swung wide for Audric’s neck, unable to aim in the glare of Illumenor.
Audric spat a curse. There would be enough death in days to come, but Merovec was leaving him no choice.
He focused his mind, sent bolts of power streaking down his arms. Illumenor scorched white-hot, its power extending past the metal until the blade became as solid and thick as a spear.
With the dawn I rise, Audric prayed, raising Illumenor. With the day I blaze.
He brought Illumenor down across Merovec’s torso, slicing clean through his armor, bone, and muscle. The two halves of his body dropped to the floor, the wounds steaming and clean, bloodless. Audric stared at the carnage in Illumenor’s unforgiving light. He would never be able to burn from his mind the image of those glassy blue eyes, frozen in shock.
The room plunged into silence. What soldiers of House Sauvillier still stood let their weapons fall.
Audric knelt at his mother’s side, making sure no one else could see his face. He didn’t trust it not to show his horror, how he loathed the destructive potential of his power and the fact that he had been forced to use it in such a way.
He inspected Genoveve’s wounds. The cuts on her throat were shallow, but she breathed carefully, her face white. Broken ribs, he guessed, and hopefully nothing worse. He held her head, and she turned her face into his palm and let out a single fractured sob.
“I thought I would never see you again,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have stopped him. I shouldn’t have let him…”
She gasped, her voice lost in pain. Audric pressed his brow to hers. On the floor beside them, Illumenor trembled in a bed of glass.
“I don’t need your apologies,” he said. “What I need is for you to live and help us through these dark days. My brave mother. I love you. I’ve missed you.”
“I hate what I’ve become since your father died,” Genoveve choked out.
Audric shook his head, kissed her cheek. “I don’t.”
Then he rose. Everyone in the room was watching him—his people, the surrendered soldiers on their knees. All their eyes upon him were a terrible weight, even those of his friends. What were they to do next? They waited for him to tell them. Someone would always be waiting for him to declare war or peace, or dispense judgment, or grant mercy.