of water over the wall. She had carried them all across the lake from the battlefield. The tails of her long leather coat whipped around her like tongues. She landed with a splash, crossed her wrists in front of her chest like a shield. Her castings flashed; the water subsided, shrinking into twin orbs of rushing foam in her palms. On her shining brown face beamed a triumphant smile.
Evyline reached Audric first. Panting, she knelt before him. “We saw the wings, my king. We knew you would fly for them. We could not let you face her alone.”
“You’ll have a better chance with us at your side,” Miren added grimly, standing a little apart from them. She tightened her grip on her double-headed ax. A tight cloud of metal spun to life around her—shattered dagger blades and tiny metal stars with deadly sharp tips.
“Or any chance at all,” added Kamayin dryly. She pushed through the others, flung an arm around Audric’s shoulders. Her face half-buried in his collar, she said quietly, “Don’t be an idiot, you idiot.”
Audric gently detached himself from her. “Rielle might want to keep me alive, or Corien might, long enough to talk to me.”
“Taunt you,” Miren corrected. “Gloat and preen.”
“Perhaps. But you… Why would they care about any of you? She could burn you to ashes the moment she sees you.”
“Maybe that’ll give you enough time to stab her,” Kamayin said cheerfully. But her eyes were hard, and her jaw was set.
Audric turned away from them, dragged a hand through his sweat-soaked curls. He didn’t know what to say to them. He wished they hadn’t stopped him. He could have ridden that tide of rage all the way to the castle, faced Rielle without a moment to think about it. No time to remember her, no time to feel fear. Now, that wildness was gone. His body ached with bruises, reminding him of his own fragility.
A few paces to his left, a light began to spin. A ring formed fast, sparking white, and out of it stepped four people. Two Audric didn’t recognize—a thin woman, fair of skin and hair, with angry blue eyes, and another woman, tall and plump and copper-skinned with graying black hair in a crown of braids around her head. The sight reminded him of Ludivine, how she had popularized that very hairstyle in the north. His throat tightened painfully.
Two more people emerged from the ring of threads. A man with pale brown skin, dark brown hair and eyes—and a girl with white hair, her skin a similar light brown, her own eyes alight with power.
Audric stepped back in shock. “Obritsa.” The man was her bodyguard, the silent, stoic Artem.
The queen of Kirvaya nodded sharply, her face a grim mask of determination. “What do you need us to do?”
Audric glanced at all of them. The pale woman’s fingers glowed, as if she too were ready to summon threads. Two marques, then. Clearly, they all had a story to tell, but there was no time to ask for it.
A chorus of battle cries made them all look up. Another regiment of winged angels had reached the city, joining those that had already made it past the elemental chaos of the Flats. They flew over the wall and darted up the winding streets. Elementals chased after them—windsingers gliding atop the currents of their own power, earthshakers burrowing up through the ground. A formation of dragons raced over the wall in pursuit, black-robed Kammerat riding atop them.
Audric turned away from the sight of his people fleeing in terror. These streets had been their home. Now, they burned with the fires of war.
“Help them get out,” he said hoarsely. “Take them south, help them hide. As many as you can.”
Obritsa did not hesitate. She exchanged a sharp look with the pale woman, the other marque. Immediately, they summoned threads, waited for Artem and the woman with northern braids to hurry through, and followed soon after. The rings of light snapped closed.
Audric went to Atheria. He held her long face in his hands, pressed his brow against her velvet snout.
“You can do more good out there than you can with me,” he told her quietly.
For a moment, she was still. Her ageless black eyes watched him gravely. Then she snorted and stepped away from him. Her wings brushed like silk against his cheek. She launched herself into the air and flew fast for the battlefield. She gave a sharp cry, hawk-like and terrible, as she disappeared over