Page 120 of The Blood Crown

Black streaks raced through the midnight blue sky, the ravens alighting on the stone walls with croaks and caws until every empty space between the archers and the Wraiths was occupied.

An army of cooks, kitchen maids, and apprentices were rolling barrels of salt through the courtyard, dropping them at intervals along the wall. If they secretly questioned her brother’s sanity, there was no sign of it as they poured a thick line around the perimeter of the palace grounds.

Blue-robed Nameless Brothers dotted the ground. So preoccupied with chanting prayers to the Unnamed and tossing powder at the walls that they didn't bother to find shelter or food for the terrified children pouring into the palace.

Karro leapt from the battlement, landing in front of a nearby brother. The man clasped the heavy iron chain around his neck as he looked up, up, further up to meet the Wraith's vengeful stare. And the blanched look on the brother's face made Aurelia wonder if he'd soiled himself beneath his heavy robes.

Karro ripped the iron from his throat, and the man let out a strangled whimper. “Unless you melt this down and forge a blade from it, it will do nothing to save you,” he snarled.

Asher had thrown himself down the stairs to intervene just as one of the young men returned with a bag of salt, handing it to him. He stepped between the Wraith and the Nameless Brother, yanking the sachel from the man's hand and sending colored powder scattering through the night air. “If you’re going to sprinkle something, at least make yourself useful,” he said, shoving the heavy sack of salt into the stunned man’s hands.

Eying Karro as he backed away, the Nameless Brother reluctantly obeyed.

Asher gave a nod to the nearby blue cloaks who had paused at the exchange—the tension coiled between the humans and the Blood Folk dispelled in an instant. But amidst the flurry of activity, something seemed to press against the air above them.

The mass of people crowding into the courtyard stilled, casting frightened glances toward the darkened Shades—looking to the guards and the warriors that had gone quiet atop the wall.

Hushed silence blanketed the Valley.

Even the pines around them seemed to be holding their breath, waiting.

And a shriek pierced the thick veil of night.

It severed the last thread of civility. People rushed the gates, clawing and trampling each other to get inside—only worsening as the shrieks multiplied, somewhere off at the edge of the Valley.

They needed to shut the gates. Without the line of salt being closed, the protection was useless to everyone inside them, but there were dozens—maybe hundreds still pouring into the courtyard.

Her mother’s spark of auburn hair was in the flood of people—far beyond the walls of the palace now.

“Get them inside!” she shouted, digging her thighs into the stallion beneath her as she made for the gate.

Ven whirled at the sound of her voice, ordering a dozen Wraiths to the ground beside her. Plumes of shadow and smoke appeared outside the gate, the Wraiths landing gracefully amongst the dazed humans, stumbling away into the safety of the palace grounds.

Screams rose throughout the Captiol, a deafening cacophony of inhuman shrieks and panicked cries.

Black shadows stretched between the pines, drenching the glittering snow in darkness that bled across the Valley’s edge.

The pitch black voids between the pines were illuminated with glowing green eyes. Dozens of demons drawing closer to the perimeter of the wards.

And now Aurelia saw them in a different light. Still the grotesque creatures they’d always been—but the remnants of the people they’d been before . . .

The angular face of one of the Blood Folk, the pointed ears of one of the Allokin.

This is what would become of everyone she loved if she did not fight.

And somewhere dark in her mind, something she would never dare to speak aloud—the thought of death seemed much better than watching this fate befall any of them.

Demons flooded from the pines now, breaking along the ward lines as they met the invisible barrier of spells.

The stench of burning sulfur grew as the shambling corpses threw themselves against the wards, their leathery hides going up in flames as they made contact with the spells. Others fell into the icy depths of the Kesh, screaming as they crumbled and disintegrated, washing away with the current.

“Inside!” she shouted.

The Wraiths gathered up children, disappearing into wisps of shadow as they deposited them inside the gates. Embra stood in the courtyard, her easy nature enough to combat the fearful look in the children’s eyes as they flocked to her, despite her pale green skin and deep green braid of hair.

Silvery blue robes whipped in the night wind, but the spellmasters were rooted to their posts beyond the wardlines, demons only a dozen feet from where they stood. Beside them were Wraiths, the black of their gear blending into the night so that only the flash of their red eyes made them visible as they paced beside their charges.

The demons were four and five deep now, surrounding the perimeter, throwing themselves against the wards until their skin caught fire and they danced like macabre torches in the night air.

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