Page 125 of An Honored Vow

But not even the Arsenal moved. Murmurs in the crowds turned to chants.

“Seize him!” they shouted. “Take the king!”

I grinned at Damien, but he didn’t move. There was no scowl on his face. I wasn’t sure if he was still breathing. I realized he wasn’t in his mind at all. My gaze swept through the crowd, looking for what soldier Damien had taken over. The only way he would leave himself defenseless was if he thought he could strike first. The new Arsenal stayed in their positions, none clutching a weapon. I leaned forward looking for someone with one black eye in the crowd below, but I didn’t see anything but sorrowful and shocked faces.

I heard the draw of a bow behind me. I turned, seeing too late that Damien had a soldier behind my back. I lurched to the side, but the arrow pierced my back, sticking me through the shoulder. I yelped in pain, falling to my knees as the man drew another arrow. But then his face went blank, and he looked down to see the sword that pierced through his chest.

Gerarda pulled out her weapon and stared down in awe. Not at the man that she had killed, but at the blade that now shone bright gold.

Faelin’s sword.

Syrra’s sword.

The Blade had claimed Gerarda.

She held up the golden blade and a bolt of lightning bellowed from the sky. The crowds of Koratha exploded into chaos. Soldiers fled for the beaches while Mortals ran for refuge, believing that the Elverin were about to sack the city. But the Halflings walked outside the gates in awe. They stared at the amber streaks along the white wall where so many of their kin had been hung and turnedaway. Laughter broke out as they crossed the field toward the torches Feron and the others had lit. Tears blurred my vision as I turned back to find Damien along the wall, but he was gone. I yanked the arrow from my shoulder and sighed.

A coward until the very end.

Gerarda wiped her blade on her trousers.

“Nice sword,” I said, wrapping my arms around her.

She laughed. “Nice scars.” Her fingers trailed over the gold of my bicep. We were the warriors who had lived, the ones with the responsibility to carry on.

I looked down at the golden blade. “I cannot think of anyone more worthy than you to carry it.”

“I would have preferred if its last owner still wielded it.” Gerarda cleared her throat. “Her sacrifice will not be forgotten.” She turned back toward the tents where Elaran waited, injured and now safe.

“Go,” I said. “Go find her.” I knew how desperately she wanted to throw her arms around Elaran because it was all I wanted to do with Riven. But I still had a promise to fulfill.

Gerarda unlaced her chest plate and handed me her tunic. It fit snugly over my shoulders but was better than nothing. The fabric warmed against the heat of my scars. Her jaw pulsed four times. “Do you want help?”

“No. This I should do on my own.” I nodded to the ships. “Make sure the city is defended and ships go out well stocked. I don’t want them raiding the kingdom now that we’ve just won it back.”

“It’s no longer a kingdom.” Gerarda’s voice caught in her throat. “It’s just our home.”

“Go protect it,” I whispered with pride. “I’ll join you shortly.”

She nodded and ran south to her love, and I ran north away from mine.

CHAPTERFORTY-SEVEN

IT DIDN’T TAKE AN EAGLE’S EYESIGHTto know where Damien had fled to. He had nowhere else to hide now that his people had turned on him. But his people didn’t know of the cells below the city. It was a secret to most. That’s why it was where he had spent most of the battle. The place where it had all started for me. The place of my nightmares, so even in victory, Damien had to remind me of the pain he’d caused.

The years Maerhal and I had spent locked down there. The weeks he had caged Nikolai inside the same cell as some kind of mental torture.

The tunnel to the black cells had been cleared. Thick wooden posts replaced the jagged rocks from the previous cave-in and protected against another. My mouth went dry as a hint of Elven wine wafted up from the lowest depths of the cavern, carried on a whistling breeze that reminded me of a faraway scream. My fiststightened around the blades I’d taken from dead men, and I listened for heartbeats waiting in the cells below. There was only one, faint in the distance, but it still sent a shiver down my spine.

This was likely one last trap Damien had set. I turned back to where the light from the upper level was just visible along the steep hill. I thought about waiting for the others. I shouldn’t go alone. But I wanted to be the one to end it. And I wanted to do it on my own. Thirty years of grief had hardened my resolve. My magic coursed through my veins and tingled in every muscle. Whatever Damien had waiting for me down there, I could face and win.

We already had.

I pulled a faebead from the small pouch tied to my belt and crushed it with the toe of my boot. I followed the amber glow with my arms held in front of me, ready for a surprise attack from any twist or curve of the tunnel. But none of Damien’s guards were lurking in the shadows. Instead, I found the room of black cells well-lit for the first time in my life. Giant torches flamed along the walls every few feet, filling the air with the stench of smoke. I didn’t cough. Somehow the fire felt more like a cleanse, burning away the air Damien breathed before it reached my lungs.

He was sitting on his throne. I could only imagine his soldiers’ faces when he ordered them to carry the gilded chair into the depths of the earth for their king. Did they know this would be his tomb? Maybe that’s what Damien wanted. He sipped from a bulbous goblet decorated with rubies the size of my fist. Black currant and cherry filled the smoky air as he drank.

Damien’s eyes narrowed. He gestured at the slab of marble beside him. There was a canister of wine and a matching goblet. “Join me for a last drink?”

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