Hearts At Stake - By Alyxandra Harvey Page 0,69

in the wide space of the hall, and they whirled in a waltz as the music swelled. They wore medieval dresses, Norse aprons, Tudor whale-boned corsets, Victorian dancing slippers, pin- striped suits from the 1920s, dashing pirate shirts, and velour frock coats. They circled in a kaleidoscope of colors and fabrics until the sheer press of them started to make me dizzy.

Solange lay still; even her chest was frozen, suspended in the bloodchange. Her lips went purple, as if they were bruised. The blue of her veins traced under her parchment skin, like rivers through a winter landscape.

“Her lips are turning blue,” I whispered to Nicholas. He nodded grimly.

“She hasn’t much time.”

I’d never felt so helpless in my life. I could only stand there in the elegant ballroom inside the mountain and watch my best friend struggle not to die. She moved once, jerking as if electricity fired through her. Kieran took one step forward and was roughly shoved backward by one of the guards. Lady Natasha’s laugh was light and pretty.

“Soon all this will be over,” she said, preening.

“Sooner than you think.”

CHAPTER 27

Lucy

We whirled, recognizing the voice. Liam stood in a white cloud, wearing silver nose plugs. He pointed to three guards rushing at him with axes.

“Sleep.”

They crumpled, axes clattering to the ground.

Hypnos.

“You,” Lady Natasha sneered. “You’re too late. Your precious daughter has nearly slipped away completely. My throne is safe, this kingdom is safe.”

“Let’s see, shall we?” Helena asked, her swords flashing, her black braid hanging neatly down her back. Her sons flooded in behind them, joined by Hart and his agents. I’d never seen so many nose plugs and so much black army gear in my whole life.

The waltzing courtiers turned to a more violent dance. The music was drowned out by the sounds of swords clashing. The tribes chose their sides, and the Drakes and Helios weren’t nearly as outnumbered as I’d feared. The Araksaka convened around Lady Natasha— all but Conan. I did what he’d suggested earlier, and I stayed down. In fact, I crawled on my hands and knees through broken crockery toward the bier. The ravens stayed by Solange, cawing viciously. When one bent his head, about to poke into her eye, I picked up a crystal shard and whipped it at him. He squawked and flew off, offended, in a flurry of feathers. I wished I had my crossbow.

Helena was tumbling like some deranged acrobat, flinging knives and stakes as she went. She left a trail of dust and ash behind her. Helios agents scattered like beetles, blowing Hypnos to clear the vampires out of their way. It was like Sleeping Beauty’s castle—ladies in fine dresses and gentlemen in complicated cravats all dropping to the Persian rugs, asleep. Crystal vases tumbled off tables; wooden chairs splintered under impact.

Hart’s agents ignored Natasha’s courtiers once they fell, preferring to attack Hope’s rogue unit. Blood splattered the stones, stained the tapestries.

Liam strode toward the bier, his grim eyes never leaving his fading daughter. He took out three vampires without moving his glance away even once. One of Hope’s men flew backward after a vicious punch, face bruising before he even hit the wall.

Nicholas rolled toward me, landing at my elbow. His eyes were fierce. He grabbed my chin and kissed me hard. It was over before I had time to react.

“Stay down,” he ordered.

“Duh,” I shot back, and returned the kiss, just as quick and just as hard before he dove away to gather stakes from a sleeping guard. He rose from a crouch and threw them like deadly confetti. They all moved so fast, it was like a watercolor painting, all blurs and smears. A woman dressed in red silk bared her fangs and hurled a sleek jet stake. Logan caught it before it imbedded itself in Nicholas’s chest.

“Shame to ruin such a nice jacket,” he said.

“Took your time getting here,” Nicholas returned with a grin, whirling to meet the next advance. They fought back to back like a spinning top of fury.

Helena reached Lady Natasha with a feral grin. Lady Natasha lifted her chin haughtily but stepped behind one of her guards. Helena slashed at his raven tattoos relentlessly until it was just her and the queen. Their swords met, clashing like ice cracking in the sea.

Hart followed Hope down the tunnel when she made a dash for safety. The rest of the battle went on, both impossibly quick and dragging on forever.

I kept crawling around the bodies, ducking flying boots and weapons.