I shake my head, but that’s not my answer, and from the look on his face, Ellis knows it too. No—it’s disbelief, because I love Armin and I don’t know why or how or when it started.
And I don’t exactly get the chance to figure it out, either, because Auley bursts into my room with heavy bursts of breaths and a panicked expression on his face. “They’re here,” he says, panting deeply. “The—the fae. The rebels. They’re attacking now. We’ve got to fuckinggo. Now.”
I lurch off the bed, and Ellis’s hand slips into mine. I know it was him who did it. Not for my comfort, but for his, I think. He’s always been the one who needed the extra hand in times like these. “Alright, then,” he mutters. “Let’s hope those demon witches you bargained for save our asses, yeah?”
I don’t smile. I don’t laugh. I wonder if I would have before, if it had been Armin who said those words instead of my brother.
I decide that I don’t like the answer that comes to mind, grab the holsters I have stuffed with knives, then the bag of powders that I can easily make into bombs, and I fuckingrun.
Ellis is right behind me. It isn’t hard to figure out which way to go—not with everyone racing in the same direction, and not with thenoisesthat get louder and louder as the castle gets quieter and quieter and the attacks get closer and closer.
We race down a set of stairs, and I bolt for one of the many balconies that decks the level. Andholy shit.
Underestimated.
We underestimated the amount of fae who were angry with that law—the power that Queen Lethe still holds over this country, if the marching troops are any indication. Ellis is still holding my hand, and I’m suddenly grateful for it, because the sight of thatriverof anger pouring toward the castle is enough to root me in place.
He pulls me toward the stairs, and we keep going, our steps faster now. We have to be down there. We’ll need every hand we can get. I will the tonic I took earlier to maintain its effect, to keep me calm, but the adrenaline is burning through my veins and it’s a hell of a lot stronger than the tonic I made.
I see Benji ahead of us, and he’s slitting throats.
Literally.
Which means that rebels have already made their way inside, and I’ve got to find Mair to make sure she’s okay, but—
but Benji looks up at me. Smiles.
He is not the boy I met.
I mean, it’s him, but there’s hardened, honed anger to his boyish face that wasn’t there before, and the next throat he slices a knife across is a witch’s throat. “Mavey,” he coos. “I hoped I’d run into you, after all you’ve done.”
He drops the bleeding body and saunters toward me, bloody knife held firmly in his grip.
And I am frozen, because this isnot the Benji I knew. He is not the boy I knew, that Iliked, that I thought might be my friend. He is not who I thought—despite the fact that reading people is what I’m fucking known for.
He is a traitor. A betrayor. A spy among the guards that I have completely overlooked. Harmless, I called him. Armin told me that those who seemed so were hardly ever. I didn’t listen.
But if I didn’t see him for who he wasbefore, then was I weak then, too? Have I overestimated myself, who I am at my very core?
Or have I never known that girl at all? Until—until recently?
“Mavey,” he purrs again. “You look lost in thought.”
It’s just the three of us in this hallway now—and the bodies. There’sseven. He killed seven people. One knife, one boy, onemoment, and seven people.
“Hey,” Ellis hisses at me. “I’m trying to electrocute him. It isn’t working.Focus.”
I process his words and force myself to snap into the present. I don’t let myself think of anything but what’s in front of me.
Benji says, “One of my specialties is immunity. Seems useless, until it isn’t. You can’t do a thing to me.”
“No,” I whisper. “He can’t. But I can.”
Becausemyspecialty is telekinesis. I don’t need to touch him to hurt him. I just need to make something else touch him. It’s the kind of magic that doesn’t really feel necessary, sometimes like a waste.
Glad it’s finally coming in handy.
There’s a table behind him.