Page 192 of Mother of Death and Dawn

But for us? It was nothing.

I smoothly stepped in front of Caduan. My magic had been itching at my skin this entire time, desperate to be released. The bright light cut through the air like lightning. My blade struck him just as my magic did. His blood spattered me in a hot spray.

I hated this man.

When he fell to the ground, throat opened, burns on his face and black flowers growing from his eyes, I turned myself over to the glorious euphoria of battle.

In an instant, chaos broke loose. The humans screamed, climbing over each other in wild attempts to either escape or attack us.

But I looked only at the Aran queen across the room, and I let the anger sweep me away.

CHAPTERSEVENTY-FOUR

MAX

Iopened my second eyelids. I needed to move faster than my limbs could carry me—as magic, I moved like the air, racing through hallways in a stream of flame.

Inside, I was greeted by a tableau of death. It was a bloodbath. The floor was slick with violet and crimson, mixing together like running paint. The Fey, apparently, wasted no time. There were already bodies everywhere, mostly Threllians clad in white. As I ran, I threw open doors and smashed windows to give people avenues of evacuation. Most of the slaves knew that we were coming and had found a way to get out if they could, but those who hadn’t been able to now clustered huddled up in bedrooms or closets.

With every room I searched, I grew more panicked.

Where are you, Tisaanah? Where are you?

I reached down, down, down, like a coin falling into a well, searching for her in the dregs of the magic we both drew from.

And…

There.

There she was. A wordless answer to my call:Here I am. Come to me.

I obeyed.

CHAPTERSEVENTY-FIVE

TISAANAH

When all hell broke loose, I didn’t give myself time to consider what was happening. I justran.

The sword I’d grabbed from a fallen guard was too heavy for me, and it had no channels to accommodate my magic. I often missed Il’Sahaj, but never so fiercely as I did now, hacking through body after body as I pushed myself down crimson-bathed hallways.

West. I needed to get to the west side of the city. I could feel Max’s presence somewhere close in the deepest layers of the magic we shared, though I struggled to remain attuned to it. My senses were dulled by the effects of Chryxalis and by my exhaustion. My body was weak from the torture I’d endured.

The scale of destruction was greater than I ever could have anticipated. This was not a battle. It was a systemic slaughter. The Fey had no goal but to kill everyone here.

I rounded a corner to see a one-winged Fey gutting a Threllian woman from her navel all the way to her throat, so focused on his task that I was able to slip by him and keep running.

Where are you, Max. Where are you.

I reached down into the magic and felt a returning tug. Relief flooded through me.

But it only lasted for a moment. Because then I sensed another presence there, too. One that I knew as well as my own.

Eventually, I found myself at a dead end—a circular gallery at the end of the hall, with no doors out save for a wide, curved balcony and a long drop beneath it. I lurched to a stop, panting. Generations of Threllian conquerors stared back at me disapprovingly through oil-painted glares.

The hairs rose on the back of my neck in a way that told me I was not alone.

I turned. A Fey woman stood in the entrance to the room. She was tall and slender, bloody strands of dark-red hair hanging around a gaunt face. She had the most entrancing eyes, large and downturned, and a striking color of rusty violet.

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