Page 124 of The Blood Crown

Chapter 65

Asher didn’t dare look back as he fought his way toward the palace doors.

Nira and Agius let him pass, the female Wraith only offering him a grim look of understanding as he raced through the crowded hallways.

Children sobbed into their mothers’ skirts—their fathers probably already dead beyond the palace walls.

This wasn’t supposed to happen—not like this.

He’d been prepared to die today, next to his sister—next to the Wraiths that he had come to know over the last few months he'd been at Ravenstone. But not here, not with the only home he’d ever known in ruins.

He hadn’t been prepared to send his men to their deaths, the brothers he’d trained and lived beside for most of his life.

Drowning out the screams of terror, Asher’s feet pounded the polished marble floors as he raced to the old wing of the palace. A place he’d avoided until now.

Skidding to a halt, chest heaving, he looked down the darkened hallway.

He knew what he needed to do. Knew what precious little time they had—

But his feet refused to move. The memory rooting him in place just as it had that day.

A dark heap, unmoving on the floor . . . a darker stain spreading across the tiles.

He hadn’t seen his father’s face—not at first. But somehow, he’d known before he’d even taken a step forward that it was him.

Just like now—he marked every tile, every step, but he knew which one he sought.

One, two . . .

Asher looked down at the blue crescent inlaid in the stone, nearly indistinguishable as all the others.

Thirteen.

Not blue.

Black.

Gripping the ravenstone dagger in his hand, he knelt, bringing the butt of its hilt down onto the aged-worn stone with a metallic ring that echoed along the walls.

The tile chipped, cracking away with every blow—but the crescent at its center . . .

The relic seemed to absorb every sound, every ounce of wrath and fury that he delivered to it. Drinking it down like wine.

A crash sounded from the room at the furthest end of the hall.

His pulse pounded into his throat, he didn't bothered hiding the sound as he pummeled the tile into pieces . . . the scythe. The second relic that had remained hidden away in the human realm until now.

Dark figures flooded the end of the hallway as the stone splintered and cracked away from the blade embedded at its center.

A sickening green glow flooded the walls, burning brighter as Asher tore away the pieces, his fingertips raw and bloodied when they finally grasped the edge of the curved blade. Still sharp—even after centuries of laying underfoot.

It bit into his fingers as he pulled it free, and glanced up—

Into black eyes.

Chapter 66

Karro’s back was to Aurelia, and though he was the largest of the Wraiths—he still stood a head shorter than the demon prince before him.

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