“We’ve had villages attacked before,” said one of Kingston’s captains, Kiflin, her mouth pursed with fury. “But never civilians. Not deliberately.”
“Hazlitt has resorted to killing his own people?” raged the other, Braug. Both Braug and Kiflin had been commanders in Hazlitt’s army, and defected when they realized how suspicious it was that Hazlitt was far too devoted to the war. “We cannot afford to keep waiting in the shadows if it means our people suffer.”
Kingston nodded his understanding while he thought about it, but Kiflin asked, “Have we the numbers to stand a chance?”
Oren shook his head. “We’ve the numbers to make a blemish.”
“Say we even manage to reach Hazlitt, then what?” she asked. “That boy from the king’s guard says he got power from Ronan. Not a one of us could kill him.”
Oren made a noise of disagreement, and motioned around the table. “Not one of us four.”
At that, all four of them looked at me, as if finally remembering that I was still standing there. There was an unspoken question in each of their eyes, a curiosity, and I couldn’t quite tell just by looking at them whether they thought me capable or not.
Braug pointed at me. “I’ve heard talk of what you can do.”
“You’ve not witnessed it,” Oren said. “She traveled here,” he pointed at the caves on the map, and then again at the harbor I’d rescued Ava from, “to here, on a bolt of lightning. Gone and back in little more than a minute.”
Kiflin squinted at me. “Is it true you control minds?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but Braug interjected, “That’s how she’s got that wolf lurking in the woods.” And he pointed to my father’s pendant around my neck. “It’s that dragon magic.”
I nearly rolled my eyes at that, because the only people who’d known the story behind my magic were Kingston, Ava, and Nira. Surely it was Nira who’d been spreading the tale, a tale that had traveled through the ranks enough to reach Braug’s ears.
“Yes, yes,” Kiflin said, “but can she kill Hazlitt?”
They all looked at me again, that unspoken question in their eyes once more. In response to it, I nodded. “I can.”
“Kiena,” Kingston said, the concern clear on his face. “If you’re not ready, we—”
“I’m ready,” I interrupted.
He nodded in acknowledgement, but said, “But we aren’t sure what he’s capable of.”
“You have to be sure,” Kiflin added. “If we risk all our men on this battle and you fail, it’s over. We have one chance.”
“I’m ready,” I said again, eagerly and confidently.
Kingston was right, we didn’t know exactly what Hazlitt was capable of, but I didn’t care because Braug was right too. We couldn’t keep rebuilding in the shadows if it gave Hazlitt chances to kill innocent people. We had to take the fight to him, whether we were completely ready or not, whether we had as many troops as we needed or not. All we needed was to find a way in.
“Get me to him,” I said, “let me face him, and I’ll defeat him.” I wouldn’t fail. I wouldn’t let Hazlitt keep terrorizing innocent civilians and threatening everything I loved.
For the first time, Kiflin appeared satisfied, and her nod mirrored ones that went up around the table.
“Oren,” Kingston said, “send birds to all our captains. Tell everyone it’s time. We leave in three days for Cornwall to rally in a fortnight.” He glanced at the other two. “Braug, Kiflin, gather our local rebels and prepare the armory.” As they all nodded again, there was a soft knock from the other side of the door. “Enter,” Kingston called, while Braug and Kiflin began discussing over locations on the map.
To my surprise, Ava opened the door, and she was so clearly distraught that all four of the councilors immediately set to staring at her in confusion. Her arms were folded across her chest, head down so we couldn’t see her face, and her shoulders were shaking with cries. What concerned me the most was the racing of her heart.
“Ava?” I said, pacing over to her. And because she’d sought me out, I put my hands on her shoulders. “What’s happened?”
She said nothing, and her cries and her pulse worried me so much that I took her face in my hands to try and get her to look at me, because even if she wouldn’t speak to me, maybe I could find out what was wrong. I set my palms on either side of her jaw, angling her face toward mine. Kingston shouted my name at the same time as Ava looked up, her eyes that dark, blood red. But it was too late. Before I could react, a sharp pain pierced through my ribs, upwards beneath my breast and deep into my chest.
A commotion erupted in the war room. I stumbled backward away from Ava, robbed of breath and in such shock and agony that I almost lost my footing. My hands searched my ribs for the source of pain, clasping around the hilt of the dagger buried deep in my torso. Through the pain and breathlessness, I managed to think that Hazlitt might keep trying. Might try to make sure I was truly dead. So I ignored the torment just long enough to latch on to the dark magic and make a motion with one hand, banishing Hazlitt from Ava so he wouldn’t come at me again.
The very moment the red faded because Hazlitt lost his control, Ava’s deep blue gaze met mine. She took in the excruciating pain on my face, and her eyes flooded with tears as she let out a shaky breath, like she’d just been hit so hard that all the air was knocked out of her. It was like the trauma of that day in the castle all over again. Her mouth hung open as she reached out with a trembling hand. It caused her to glance at the blood on it, and there was a world of apology and concern and pure, overwhelming guilt in her eyes as tears went spilling down her cheeks.
It looked like she wanted to come to me, but I yanked the dagger from my flesh while she took a weak step forward to try, and her focus dropped to it. She looked away from the severe shaking of her bloody fingers to the wound in my ribs, and she froze. A flood of red spilled down my side and stained my tunic, and though it was my veins being emptied, her face paled so severely it was like every drop of blood had been stolen from her. I wanted to tell her it was alright, that it wasn’t her fault because I could see on her face that she blamed herself.
In those brief seconds, Braug and Kiflin had vaulted themselves across the room to grab Ava, but she collapsed with the crushing anxiety of what she’d just done. They caught her before she hit the floor, and I let the dagger slip from my hand because I already felt too weak to hold it.
“Get Sevedi!” Kingston hollered, and Oren sprinted out the open door.
I could feel blood pouring from the wound, the heat of it running down my stomach to my hip. If I’d had the strength or the breath, I’d have pushed my hand to it to try and slow the bleeding, but even if I did, it wouldn’t have helped. Though the dagger was gone, it still felt as though the blade was tearing through my flesh. My chest felt like it would burst if I took too deep a breath, but I needed air because my head was getting light. White spots were blurring my vision, and I was so disoriented by pain and weakness that I dropped to my knees.
Kingston didn’t wait another second. He scooped me into his arms and rushed out the door to take me to Sevedi. I tried to protest, because I wasn’t sure what Braug and Kiflin would do with Ava, and I didn’t want them to hurt her. I didn’t want her to be punished for this. Especially not when I’d seen by the look in her eyes that she was already punishing herself. But I hadn’t the strength to say anything, and I could just see Sevedi dashing down the hall in front of Oren when everything went dark.
Chapter 18
Some unknown time after passing out, I woke up on the ground in my personal chamber, coughing and choking on blood. Most of it was swimming in my pierced lung, but what I managed to cough up I spit into the rag my mother held to my mouth. Sevedi never took her hand away from the wound in my ribs, no matter how violently I shook and heaved with the strain of feeling like I was drowning. But I couldn’t breathe, and the pain was unbearable, and after a minute of agony I gladly fell back to blackness. I woke like that four times before finally managing to free my chest of the weight, and I took one gasp of precious, welcome air before giving in to the exhaustion.