Page 189 of Silverbow
She lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. “I don’t want the throne. Besides, my sister’s claim is better than mine.”
Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.
“Do you know where she is?”
She squinted as if trying to see something that wasn’t there. “I’m not sure. Estryia, I think. Perhaps the North or the Westerlands.”
Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.
Realizing it wasn’t coming from the palace, Oryn whipped his head around, straining for the sound.Wings.He seized Enya’s arm and dragged her down off the wall. She squeaked in surprise, letting the bottle fall from her grip and shatter on the paving stones.
“I will not-”
“DEMONDREAD!” Bade bellowed.
Oryn scrabbled for his sword, Enya’s wrist clutched in his other hand. She seemed to register the shout and was running at his side, but they were not fast enough to avoid the dark forms that dropped out of the sky. Like their makers, the beasts of Covwood had immunity to the pure godsongs. The raging torrents of wind Oryn sent their way barely ruffled ragged, leathery wings as they alighted on the stones before them.
Five shadowy forms appeared out of the dark, blocking them off from the Palace of Drozia. Oryn raised his sword but the beast before him opened its mouth and began to croon. He staggered a step, then another, realizing with no small horror the sound was filling his ears. Moving became difficult. He could find nothing else, no other sound to hold onto as it snared him in its song, paralyzing his limbs.
That song… It was so heart wrenching. So sad. Oryn let his sword arm fall, even as Enya wildly tugged at his hand. Closer. He wanted to get closer. The stones beneath his feet shuddered violently and the plaza erupted. Fountains of stone shot into the night sky. The roar filled his ears and Oryn blinked. Thought returned, slow and murky. Bade was blowing up Leon’s plaza. He was drowning out the creatures’ crooning.Gods bless the man.
Oryn raised his sword and swiped for the beast that had ensnared Enya at his side. Leon’s guard came pouring from the palace doors, short swords, axes, and war hammers in hand. Aiden bathed the night in dancing, orange flames with Colm on his heels. It was Bade who reached them first, twin swords whistling as they severed bat-like heads from necks, spraying black blood across Oryn’s coat and Enya’s bare skin.
He pushed her behind him as a beast fell at their feet and he turned on the fourth creature. It still crooned, but he could hold onto the shouts behind it and let the rumble of the mountain fill his ears.
The dwarves felled the fifth and final beast, brutally and slowly, but Oryn was already turning to Enya, scrambling to wipe the black blood from her face and chest. It could etch blade and armor. He didn’t want to know what it would do to a mortal’s skin.
Leon and his honor guard surrounded them, prodding at the creatures to ensure they were dead. “What in Solignis’s nine hells?” The Prince of Dwarves barked.
Quiet fell around them. The night didn’t hold any answers.
A slow dramatic clap came from near the palace steps. “Very heroic,” Ralenet drawled, surrounded by a ring of his blademasters.
“Where were you lot?” Aiden sneered.
“I’m the Master of Coin,” he shrugged. “Heroics are not my department.”
Bade spat and turned to Leon. “Sorry about the plaza.”
Leon shook his head. “The singers will fix it in the morning.”
Oryn gave Enya’s wrist a tug, but she stared at the crumpled creature at her feet, muttering the list he hadn’t heard since arriving in Drozia. Black smoke started to curl from where its blood seeped into the mountain stone. Oryn gave her another tug, and when she didn’t move, he swept her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest.
Alsbet stood tight faced with her children in the doorway, surrounded by a ring of guards. She stepped aside for them to pass. Oryn’s gaze found Alloralla. The elven woman nodded to him from amongst the columns and trailed in his wake, like the whispers that chased them all the way through the Great Hall.
“D-did you hear it?” Enya asked quietly as he started the climb up the steps.
“The song?”
She swallowed and shook her head. “The souls. They were screaming, Oryn. I could hear them.”
Enya
Enya didn’t object as Oryn carried her beyond her own door, up three more turns of the spiral staircase. She didn’t object to being crushed against his chest; it was the only warmth she could find. Her own skin was clammy and cold, like all the life had drained from her in the snaring of that song.
He settled her into a worn armchair in a richly appointed sitting room. She hardly blinked as blankets and furs were heaped into her lap. Oryn stomped across the room to throw open heavy velvet curtains. Whether to let in the twinkling of the stars or watch the night sky, Enya wasn’t sure.
“Your Grace,” came the musical female voice from the door.
