Page 199 of Blood of the Stars

“I think we should split up,” Holm said, turning from the door. “Miklous wasn’t wrong. She could be in a number of places now. She could keep moving as we search, sending us in circles.”

Marnok frowned. “Is it worth it to weaken whichever party inevitably finds her?”

“I doubt she’s left if she knows Aeliana is here,” Sylmar said. “There’s a small chance she’s overseeing the battle, but the odds are much higher that she’s with Emeris or even preparing for the branding ceremony.”

Aeliana squirmed, tightening her hold on her dagger so the grip rubbed against her palm. The bond mark was bad enough, but having a brand like Miklous’ would feel like some sort of leech living under her skin.

“I could take a few of us to the south tower, and if she’s not there, we could meet you at the northern keep,” Holm said.

“I’ll go with you,” Orra said, placing a hand on his back.

“Thank you.” Holm tugged at his too-tight vest.

Aeliana got the impression he would have picked anyone else before Orra.

“It’s not a bad idea to have more archers up on the parapets,” Gaeren said. “Maybe Kendalyhn should join them. You already have disguises. If you relieve one of Mayvus’ soldiers at an arrowslit, you can help the people still attacking the castle.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “At least whichever ones haven’t started the intentional withdrawal.”

Aeliana didn’t need magic to sense the weight of his thoughts—the burden of the men he’d left behind. She hated the idea of splitting up, but his fear became her own. She patted the vial in her chest, the insanity of attempting to brand a dragon no longer seeming so ridiculous.

“Holm, Marnok, Kendalyhn, and Orra can head for the southern tower,” Sylmar conceded. “Send word immediately if she’s there. Aid those on the ground if you can, but if it’s too late—for any reason—come help us instead.”

Gaeren’s jaw tightened, but he nodded along with everyone else.

When Holm opened the door, they split ways, Holm taking his three archers and Sylmar leading the others toward the northern keep. The halls were strangely deserted, but Aeliana supposed the soldiers had all been called to arms. They went past dozens of doors, some open to reveal disheveled bed chambers or a paper-strewn war room or chancery, but most remained closed.

Sylmar had spent hours studying the maps of Mayvus’ fortress, but he ran through them like someone who had known the halls well. What had he done for Mayvus before defecting? And why hadn’t he told Aeliana? She couldn’t help feeling misled, like the truth had been kept from her in order to manipulate her. He’d always been gruff, but she’d at least trusted him to look out for her.

Now she didn’t know what to think.

Sylmar and Velden cut down the few men they came across, and Iris and Cyrus did the same to those who came up from behind. Most had been sent out to fight, just as they’d hoped, but it still became glaringly clear that Aeliana was being coddled in the center of the group. As much as she hated it, she wasn’t about to volunteer to step forward and take out the next person who rounded the corner. Not after stepping across bodies and slipping on the blood of fallen men.

Men who looked exactly like Gaeren, Cyrus, or Lukai in the uniforms they’d stolen. Some with Sun-bleached hair like Gaeren’s, their mouths frozen in shock instead of a smirk. Some with freckles like Cyrus, though none as pale or red-haired. One had Lukai’s golden curls and upturned nose, the devastating sight of his broken body on the floor making her regret holding her bondmate’s actions from the night before against him.

Eventually the halls turned to stairs leading to the tower in the north, the keep that might hold Aeliana’s mother and aunt. The stone here was darker and rougher, more like the dungeons where they’d found the winex. She supposed they were in the older areas of the fortress, but she couldn’t help imagining that those stones had also soaked in more blood, had held more of the dark spirits over the years.

The stairs opened up to a final hall filled with heavy oak doors. By now the Sun was lower in the sky, its light spilling through windows, highlighting the dust in the air as if to give false hope that the area was abandoned. Sylmar slowed down, sending Velden, Jasperus, and Lukai out through the rooms ahead. As each was determined to be clear, they inched forward. Sweat ran down Aeliana’s brow. They were taking too long. If Mayvus felt threatened, she could be performing the branding ceremony right now.

She studied the scars on her palms, eyeing the dark mark of her bond, wondering if Mayvus would brand over it or use the other palm. Or was that something determined by the Stars? Or Sun? She squeezed her hands into fists, letting her fingernails dig into both scars and bond. When she glanced up, Gaeren was studying her, his face unreadable.

A shout came from the room ahead—it sounded like Jasperus—then the sound of steel on steel. Sylmar, Cyrus, and Gaeren rushed forward, but Iris held Aeliana back in the hall.

“They need our help,” Aeliana said.

“You can help them far more by surviving, love,” Iris said. “They might need you to heal them.”

If they survived.

Aeliana wanted to add the words, but they stuck in her throat as the sounds of grunts and reverberating metal grew louder. Lukai and Velden came from two other rooms, following the sounds of the skirmish, confirming Aeliana’s suspicion that it was Jasperus who’d first cried out.

She closed her eyes, imagining blades slicing through each of her comrades, wounds too deep to be healed by her limited magic. A coldness swept over her, and she shivered, trying to redirect her thoughts, but with the goosebumps came an overwhelming sense of familiarity.

She opened her eyes and stood straighter, leaning into the sensation with fresh understanding.

“The dark spirits,” she whispered.

Iris stiffened. “What?”

“Someone’s doing blood magic.”

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