Page 242 of The Cradle of Ice
ON HER KNEES between the two thrones, Aalia prepared for her death. There was nowhere to hide. Then a shadow swept over her with the wings of a hawk. She flinched down as Jubayr sprawled over her, spread across the two thrones, balanced on the armrests to either side.
His heavy cloak draped over her.
“Jubayr…”
With his cheek pressed to the crook of his elbow, he stared down. “Sister, no one will ever harm you while I have breath.”
Then the volley struck.
Trapped under the tent of his cloak, the arch of his body, she watched the arrows shatter off marble and gold. They hit Jubayr with impacts that shuddered his body. Arrowheads burst through his chest and neck. His blood rained down on her. Still, he held his perch, proving himself stronger than the fiercest Haeshan hawk.
His eyes never left hers, pinched with pain, shining with love.
He did as he had promised.
Only with his last breath did he lose his perch and fall atop her. She caught him in her lap, cut and sliced by those arrowheads, but she only hugged him tighter.
She sobbed and rocked. She didn’t know how long she held him, but finally he was gently lifted. Tazar was there by some miracle. He pulled her hard to his chest, to his heart. She allowed herself two breaths and pushed away.
The fighting still raged.
Tazar guarded her with sword and dagger. More of his men defended the dais. White-striped Shayn’ra stood shoulder to shoulder with Paladins and guardsmen.
Aalia searched around her, realizing she had lost more than one brother.
She clutched Tazar’s arm. “Where’s Rami?”
* * *
“DO NOT THINK you can fool me twice.”
Pratik flinched as Zeng’s dagger struck, expecting death. But both had forgotten that Pratik was chaaen-bound. The blade struck the iron collar fixed around Pratik’s throat. The knife’s edge still sliced a fiery line across the side of his neck, just under his ear.
The impact and surprise knocked the dagger from Zeng’s grip.
Pratik dropped, grabbed its hilt with both fists, and thrust up with all the strength in his legs. He jammed the blade’s point under Zeng’s jaw.
“How’s this for one last trick?” Pratik gasped out.
The blow lifted the Dresh’ri off his toes. The bastard dangled there, writhing on that point—then the dagger slipped farther through bone and drove deeper into his skull.
Only then did Pratik throw Zeng’s body aside, but he kept the dagger.
Venin turned toward him with a hiss. Shocked by their master’s death, they lost hold of the insidious song that had been their only weapon.
Pratik lunged forward while calling to Althea for help. Responding to his panic, she swung to the horror behind her. Together, they dispatched the creatures.
Once done, Pratik ripped away his headgear.
“What were those beasts?” Althea panted out.
“Not our problem any longer. That’s what they are.”
A bellow caught their attention and turned them around.
Now what?
* * *
