Reign of Darkness (The Prince's Assassin #2) - Ariana Nash Page 0,2

letting him pass, but then hastily licked at his rippling cloak, blackening its edges. He clutched a smoldering book to his chest.

A flash of blond hair, the defiant tilt of a straight chin. Even beneath his hood, there was no mistaking him.

Niko flung out his hand and Vasili’s cool fingers locked with his.

He pulled the prince back through the blazing doorway, leading him anywhere. Away. That was all that mattered. He had to get away from this inferno.

The prince’s fingers slipped free of his grip.

Niko staggered to a halt. Thick smoke almost obscured Vasili slumped against the wall, head down, shoulders heaving. Niko pressed Maria’s damp cloth to Vasili’s mouth and nose. The prince’s hand came up to hold it in place. His brilliant blue eye flashed a scathing warning not to touch. His lips probably found an ungrateful sneer behind the cloth too.

He could sneer all he liked, just so long as he survived.

Orange flame poured down the corridor behind them. If Lady Maria hadn’t escaped, there was no going back for her now. Fire bubbled across the ceiling, devouring plaster, making flame drip to the floor, where it hastily simmered against the carpet.

Niko lifted his own damp, soot-caked shirt to cover his mouth and nose, grabbed Vasili by the arm, and hauled him stumbling along. The corridors—so thick with smoke—all looked the same. They could be walking in circles or heading deeper into the fire. Shit, what way would see them safely clear?

Niko took a left, but Vasili pulled back, urging him another way.

Smoke poisoned Niko’s lungs, burned his tongue and clogged his throat, making every breath shorter and tighter. His heart thumped too loudly in his ears. A few more rattling, thorny breaths and he’d be on his knees.

Vasili kicked open a door into a plain bedchamber. A servant’s perhaps. Niko let the prince go and slammed the door behind them. Smoke still hung in the air, but the room was clear enough to see and pause and breathe.

A moment’s rest. A breath. Coughs tore through Niko, doubling him over, making his eyes stream.

Vasili tossed Maria’s scarf aside and threw open a pair of windows. Wind tore into the room, pulled the prince’s hood down, and whipped his hair about him. Air hissed under the closed door, sucking out the smoke like some bizarre beast was inhaling somewhere deep inside the palace.

What came after a dragon inhaled…

Thunder rumbled the palace walls.

Fear flashed across Vasili’s face.

Niko bolted for the window.

Whatever was outside better not be a long drop.

A hideous, bone-rattling boom splintered the door. Heat and splinters flew and then flame boiled the air. Niko grabbed for Vasili, latched on to his arm, and jumped from the window, yanking the prince with him.

A pitched roof rushed up. He hit hard, knee first, then rolled, lost his grip on Vasili, and slipped downward, sliding from slick tiles. Heat and light, glass and wood, exploded inches above his head. The edge of the roof vanished. He fell with nothing to grasp but air.

His back slammed into the ground, knocking air from his lungs. The world was still and numb and quiet. Flames waved at the black sky like a thousand Caville flags. It might have been beautiful if it weren’t so deadly.

The roaring in his ears returned, along with a whole lot of hurt.

He turned his head to see Vasili crawling on his front, reaching for the book in the grass.

A trio of guards loomed from the smoke, their demeanor not that of saviors. Blades drawn, they bore down on Vasili. Vasili hadn’t seen. His only care was the book he’d almost died for.

Niko took a breath to shout a warning. Coughs made his lungs writhe in his chest. He spluttered and heaved.

The guards all bore the grim mouths of men ordered to use force.

Dammit, he hadn’t saved Vasili from the flames only for him to be murdered by his own guards.

Niko groped for his sword, remarkably still attached to his hip. His arm felt too heavy, his thick fingers uncoordinated, but he managed to grip the handle enough to yank the blade free and swing it into the dirt to lever himself onto his feet.

Vasili was on his knees now, the book under his hand, his face full of relief.

The foremost guard swung for Niko. Niko’s reflexes kicked in quicker. He blocked the blade with his own. Metal sang.

A second guard plunged his sword down toward Vasili.

“No!” Niko yelled.

Vasili rolled at the last moment. The blade snagged his cloak,