her in the gut, then slammed her against the floor, punching her in the still-healing wound in her side, again and again, feeling her ribs break, her blood coating his fingers.
But it wouldn’t be enough to kill her.
Killian threw himself at the knife, snatching it up and throwing before he’d even regained his feet. It sank deep into her shoulder, but she only pulled it out, her teeth bared.
Behind her, the drapery was an inferno, the air thick with choking smoke. Killian coughed, his head still spinning and now his lungs burning, but he had to kill her. Had to finish this.
Picking up the blade of a dead soldier, he stalked toward the corrupted queen, driving her onto the balcony.
“Nowhere to go, Rufina,” he said, backing her against the balustrade, trying to regain his senses. To regain his breath in the choking haze. “You made a mistake coming here tonight.”
Her smile chilled him to the core. “Mistakes were made; that much is certain, Lord Calorian,” she said. “But not by me.”
Lifting her fingers to her lips, she whistled.
Swearing, Killian lunged, sword tip out, but the Queen of Derin twisted and dived off the balcony. And seconds later reappeared, clinging to the saddled back of a deimos. Righting herself, she called over her shoulder, “You should’ve taken more care with your charge, Killian. This will be the second princess I’ll have killed under your watch.”
The wind hurled itself at the balcony, driving away the smoke, and as he blinked back stinging tears, Killian’s heart plummeted at the scene on the ocean before him.
Lifting his sword, he ran back into the inferno.
51
LYDIA
With Lena clutching her arm, Lydia sprinted to where Gwen stood wild-eyed and holding back a curtain covering a hole that had been knocked in the wall. “Hurry!”
Lydia pushed both girls through the hole first, allowing the curtain to fall behind her as she scrambled through the cabinet hiding the opening on the opposite side. The antechamber contained Malahi, her guardswomen, and one man: High Lord Calorian.
“My brother?” he demanded.
“Buying us time.” She could barely get the words out.
Bercola pulled up the trapdoor in the floor that had been concealed by a heavy carpet while Sonia and Brin worked to barricade the door to the hall. Beyond, screams pierced the air as the civilians sacking the palace encountered fleeing nobility and soldiers, the latter clearly cutting down those who got in their way with no regard for the fact they were countrymen.
Angry tears streamed down Malahi’s face. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go.”
“Things very rarely go as planned,” Bercola snapped. “Which is why Killian built you an escape route. Use it. Fight another day.”
“I can’t leave my people.”
“You can’t help them if you’re dead.” The giantess loomed over the Queen. “Now climb down that hatch or I will toss you down.”
Scrubbing tears from her face, Malahi complied, fighting with her voluminous skirts to get through the opening. The group dropped one at a time into the chamber below, Bercola coming last and pulling the trapdoor closed with her.
They were in the sublevel of the palace, below ground, the air cold and stagnant, for the space was used for little more than storing supplies. Cracking open the door, Bercola peered out into the corridor and then pulled it shut, swearing under her breath. “They’ve made it down here already.”
“How many?” Sonia whispered.
“Ten, that I saw. Hopefully the sight of swords will send them running. The room we need is the one two doors down and on the left. Go.”
The door swung open and the giantess charged out, weapon in hand, Sonia and five others on her heels.
“Go,” Lena said to Malahi, gently pushing her and the High Lord out into the corridor. She and Gwen flanked them, Lydia and the rest bringing up the rear.
Lydia’s heart hammered in her chest, the palm of her hand slick with sweat as she gripped her sword, casting backward glances as they moved up the hallway, but it was empty. And ahead, Bercola had chased off the looters and was unlocking the door.
“In, in, in!” she hissed, piling everyone into the room before shutting the heavy door and latching it. A lone lamp burned in the empty chamber, at the center of which a steel trapdoor was set into the floor. Pulling it up, Bercola took a torch from a stack sitting against the wall, lighting it and handing it to Gwen. “You and Lena go first. Follow the route marked with white chalk.