The Immortal Heights - Sherry Thomas Page 0,59

but the nearest one was at most a mile away. And for five miles around the Citadel, it was a no-vaulting zone.

Titus whispered a prayer and leaped onto his carpet. He shot out of the shadows of a grove of blue linden, crossed Palace Avenue, and sped up Citadel Boulevard. There were guards along Citadel Boulevard, but as he passed overhead, instead of challenging him, they saluted: the underside of the flying carpet glowed with the image of a phoenix and a wyvern guarding a shield that bore seven crowns, his personal standard.

The gate of the Citadel opened. He hurtled past, not slowing down until the walls of the palace itself blocked his way. Wrenching the carpet to a sudden stop, he jumped off onto the grand balcony.

What he was about to do offered neither strategic nor tactical advantage. In fact, it was a colossally inconvenient feat to attempt, for which he would have to sacrifice the last copy of the Crucible still in the House of Elberon’s possession. But some things could not be helped. He was the sovereign of these lands, and on the eve of war, he must address his people.

He strode to a podium near the balustrade, placed both hands on its smooth, cool marble top, and recited the password and the countersign.

There came the sound of a small bell being struck, a soft reverberation that did not seem as if it would carry far. Yet it would be heard inside every home, classroom, and place of employment in the Domain, as would his voice.

Already, lights from the armored chariots were swinging toward the Citadel.

He inhaled deeply. “To the mages of this great city and this great realm, I speak to you as a crisis approaches. For months you have heard the rumors, of unrest far and near. But now Atlantis has declared hostilities upon us, upon all who will no longer tolerate its oppression. Protect yourselves, safeguard the ones you cherish, and shield those who cannot shield themselves. Better yet, fight for them.

“I cannot defend every one of you, but I will defend this realm to my last breath.” Which would be drawn elsewhere, for he would never see his own country again. “Remember always: Fortune favors the brave.”

The armored chariots careened toward him. And was it his imagination, or did he hear a faint but rising chorus of “and the brave make their own fortune”?

There was no time to listen more closely. He placed the Crucible on the podium. “I am the heir of the House of Elberon, and I am in mortal danger.”

As the last syllable left his lips, a hand closed around his arm.

Titus flung the hand away, his wand drawn and pointed, his heart pounding. But the person who landed in the tall grass with a cry was not an Atlantean soldier. Her eyes round, her hands held out in a gesture of supplication, she cried, “Please don’t hurt me, Titus!”

Aramia, Lady Callista’s daughter.

Behind her, Sleeping Beauty’s castle loomed in the distance, its turrets illuminated by light from torches and cressets far below. The dragons that guarded its entrance roared, a bit too loudly for the minor disturbance of their arrival on the meadow.

Instantly he was on alert, scanning the sky above.

“I wanted to tell you to get out,” said Aramia, getting to her feet. “Uncle Alectus has already informed Atlantis of your presence at the Cit—”

Titus yanked her behind himself. “Praesidium maximum!”

The strongest shield he could summon was barely enough to defend them against a shower of swords and maces. He swore. Bewitched weapons of this quantity—provided someone had not been editing the stories—could only belong to the Enchantress of Skytower, who should be busy besieging Risgar’s Redoubt.

Yet the massive silhouette outlined against the hills west of the meadows was none other than that of Skytower itself, a bulbous-looking stronghold set atop a huge rock formation roughly in the shape of a cone.

What the hell? Risgar’s Redoubt was a good hundred miles away. And Skytower, for all its other impregnable virtues, did not travel terribly fast. To keep Kashkari and Amara safe, he had stowed them inside the Crucible before he approached the Citadel, no more than fifteen minutes ago. How had Skytower managed to cover so much distance in so little time?

And where were those two?

“. . . me come with you.”

He turned sharply toward Aramia. “What?”

She swallowed. “My mother will now always be known as the one who betrayed you and your elemental mage. I need to redeem

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