Page 4 of Secrets of Graves and Gold

The other attacker has hurled herself at Casimir and Alek. Alek swipes inexpertly with his confiscated dagger before Casimir lands a blow to her head with both strength and his usual grace. The impact sends her reeling sideways into the wall.

The instant she hits the stone blocks, more energy sizzles from her hands. The wall cracks and bucks.

A deluge of stone batters the two men. I have to roll to the side to escape the slice of my attacker’s sword, and when I glance again, both the scholar and the courtesan are pinned to their waists beneath the rubble.

Stavros gives a vicious cry and heaves one of his opponents back out of the side room. But that man takes the same tactic the woman did and slams his hands against the side of the doorway.

The stones crumple inward, cutting off Stavros from the room the rest of us are in.

Grit prickles in my throat. I cough and dodge, landing a blow with my knife to my attacker’s thigh. As he staggers sideways, I kick his legs right out from under him.

He thumps to the floor but doesn’t drop his sword. And as he tenses to lunge at me again, my gaze slips past him to the royal family.

More clay litters the floor now, but so do more bodies of the real guards. The last of them is just collapsing with a blade through his gut.

The five clay-captured daimon still standing near the king launch themselves at the unguarded royal family.

No! Julita cries as my pulse stutters.

I hurl my knife at one of the attackers, but the others don’t even look as their companion topples over.

Both King Konram and Queen Ishild have drawn blades of their own, but I can see those won’t be enough. They’re an instant from being overwhelmed.

Nothing would be enough.

“Ivy!” Alek rasps out from where he’s shoving at the rubble on his legs. “Quick—you have to.”

My stomach sinks at the same moment as my magic thrums through my bones.

Right. I would be enough.

There isn’t time to think, isn’t time to plead with the lesser god who’s guided me in the past to help me control the backlash. One of the attackers stabs his sword toward Konram’s heart just as the king parries a different blow from another—and with a choked sound, I fling my power at the swordsman.

The magical force wrenches the man to the side and snaps his neck. He collapses into a jumble of clay.

I heave my arms upward and will the stones from the walls to rise. My power surges through my limbs, vibrating to the core of my bones.

As I shove the stones back into place, a booming sound from above suggests my magic has torn down other walls somewhere else in the palace. I can’t find the capacity to care just yet.

The woman who destroyed one of those walls stares at me with a flicker of light behind her eyes. “Riven!” she cries.

Stavros hurtles out of the newly restored side room and crashes straight into another of the attackers sword-first. Alek and Casimir scramble to their feet.

The courtesan grabs at the swordsman in front of me, who was just making a lunge of his own. He yanks the man’s arm around sharply enough for bone to crack just as I snatch another knife from the sheaths at my thighs.

As I push forward to slit the swordsman’s throat, Queen Ishild plunges her short sword into the nearest figure’s gut. King Konram stabs another in the chest—just as the man jerks his hand toward the ceiling.

The stone surface cracks. I let out a yelp of warning.

A surge of my own magic rattles up through my ribs.

The broken chunk freezes just inches from cracking Konram’s skull. Then it slams back up to re-meld with the ceiling.

My skin twitches with the effort, sweat beading on the back of my neck.

Stavros cuts through the last of the attackers, and suddenly everything is still except the rasp of our labored breaths.

I wobble, and Casimir grasps my arm to steady me. I let myself lean just slightly toward him, relief washing over me at his calming presence.

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