Page 9 of The Bones of Benevolence

Come on, Petra. Do something.

I threw my hand out, a burst of fire and light colliding with his unmasked face. He dropped his sword as pained screams erupted from his chest. The second man was unfazed by my display of power as he continued swinging for Miles, something deranged in his movements.

“Unholy bitch,” he spat, mouth full of yellowed teeth, his eyes on me but his sword aimed for the Lieutenant. Miles met him blow for blow as I tried once again to scrape together crumbs of my power. More and more men rushed toward us, some of them intercepted by other swords and arrows.

I managed one more shot of flame and sent the snarling man falling to the ground in pain just as his comrade had. A few men jumped back in fear at the sight of him clawing at his scorched face.

An arrow zipped past me, but I was too slow — it grazed my forehead, my blood spattering across my veil as the fabric stuck to the wound. I caught the eye of an unmasked soldier at the base of the dais, one arm waving wildly, the other swinging his broadsword. “Get her out of here!” he called to Miles over the din. His skin was almost as dark as his armor, his body moving between swords with a nimble grace that defied his lumbering frame. Against the stream of people still trying to leave the throne room, I saw dozens of soldiers pushing in, striking down their comrades as Miles moved me to the back of the massive hall.

“Go!” the man bellowed to Miles. “Get to the tunnels! We’ll hold them off!” He disappeared into the chaos as Miles grabbed my wrist, cutting down men with apparent ease as we pushed through the crowd.

From all directions, arrows whizzed past my head as men rushed at us, war cries erupting from their throats as soldiers gutted soldiers. I couldn’t tell who was who. Every man still standing bore black armor or fighting leathers, all of them branded with the gold dragon of the Cabillian crest.

We finally made it to the door as Miles stabbed the last man who stood in our way. A narrow, torchlit corridor opened before us, musty air hitting my nostrils as the door slammed behind us. “What the fuck is going on?” I demanded, the noise of the throne room still echoing off the stone walls. Miles was silent, his grip firm around my wrist as he pulled me behind him. “Tell me what thefuckis going on!”

“Shut up,” he snapped, his pace quickening.

“Excuse me?”

He froze, whirling to me, stepping closer until his mask hovered inches from my face. I swallowed hard at the uncomfortable proximity. “Shut the fuck up,” he breathed. “We’re going somewhere safe.”

Dumbfounded at his tone, I followed behind him. One turn, two, five, then ten until I lost track of what direction we were heading. “How the hell do you know where you’re going?” I demanded as we wove through the corridors, only to be met with the Lieutenant’s silence. The torches that had lined the walls were running out, and Miles grabbed the last one before the darkness swallowed us like a pit.

The sound of the chaos behind us faded but he slowed his pace only slightly. “These are escape tunnels,” he murmured suddenly, the rasp in his voice sounding even more pronounced in the echoey corridors. “If I can remember how to get through, they’ll take us all the way under the leechthorn fields and out to the mountains.”

“The mountains?”

“If I can remember how to get there,” he snapped.

We came upon a small alcove and he slowed, finally letting go of my wrist as he pulled a canteen from his belt and offered it to me. I pushed it aside. I wanted to ask him what the fuck was going on, but something stopped me. There was a nervous energy surrounding him, and it made the darkness around us even more unsettling.

“Someone shot an arrow at Kauvras,” he murmured, his breath heaving from behind his mask.

“Thanks for the clarification,” I quipped, my anger dripping with sarcasm. “Who?”

He didn’t answer, instead craning his neck to look down the corridor behind us before shifting on his feet. “King Belin is safe,” he said.

Sudden fury and longing and confusion pulsed with each heartbeat at the name. “Why would I care?” I snarked, fighting the edge in my voice that threatened to break me.

“He’s safe. One of my men retrieved him and had him removed.”

“One of your men?”

“I need you to stop asking so many questions.”

He’d been apologetic back in my room in the castle, now he was being short with me. “What do you mean by one of your men?” I asked again, ignoring the bite in his tone.

He sniffed, rolling his head from side to side. “Since…yesterday, since theincident,” he said, starting to pace, “there has been some…unrest.” I cocked a brow. I could have told him that. “The Cabillian army is currently divided. I’ve… I’ve sort of become the leader of your supporters, so to speak.”

I ground my teeth together. “Shouldn’tIbe the leader ofmysupporters?”

“You are. Technically.” He stopped pacing. “In a sense. But you were locked away.” Agitation marked his voice as he spoke, staring at me through the eyes of the ram. “But I was the only one who’d witnessed what happened at the Taithan castle firsthand. Not everyone knew exactly what happened, but everyone has now heard of your…power.” He began pacing again, my eyes following him in the dim light of the torch. “It was a long night, Petra. A lot of rumors were flying around, and most of them still are. And now some people believe you are the Savior of the Realm. And others believe that Kauvras is, and that you were sent here for him to use your powers.”

“So there are people that are supporting me blindly?” I shook my head. “Why?”

“If the prophesied Savior of the Realm shows up, they’re going to have followers even if they plan to burn the world to the ground. Most of your followers act with blind faith, and that’s enough for them.”

I let my head drop against the stone and huffed a laugh. “Savior of the Realm.”

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