Page 197 of The Stolen Throne
The metallic scent of blood fills the air. A soldier is felled in front of me, blood spraying over my legs, a throwing star sunken in his jugular.
I slip two of my knives from my hiding spots.
Cain stays my hand. “No. We’ll take care of this. You need to build a portal.”
One soldier backs a Wanderer up with a series of spinning kicks before slashing at him with a paddle-like weapon, the edges of which glint with wicked spikes. Shark’s teeth, I vaguely recall from Omma’s education. A badge of honor for only their best warriors, the outward sign of an ocean master. They’re throwing their best at us.
The yelling around me blends with the screams of the carnage going on outside the walls. Another muffled roar of “Scourge” comes from inside our building, and a door explodes outward, taking out the metal gate with it. More Wanderers run out into the flat courtyard around us, fierce and ready to defend their kin.
Cain’s right. We need to get out of here.
We may be close to two hundred strong with the zariphate and Vanished who came here together, but we’re divided and scattered. These aren’t the only soldiers… I’ve seen how many they have, and we’re seriously outnumbered. We need a way out, and me building a portal might be the only way, since we can’t get through the city.
Which means I need sand. There’s not enough here.
Where is Bene? He was a raven the last time I saw him. But even if he showed up in full form and shed all his spare sand, I can’t build a portal until I know where the rest of our people are.
“Reven,” I whisper.
The shadows inside me, the lines of connection binding us, are still eerily quiet. I grit my teeth so hard my jaw hurts.
Is he blocking me?
A new cry rises from the main palace building at the far end of the courtyard. The massive, metal gate over the wide arched front door cranks up, and Tropikan soldiers in their green armor pour out into the courtyard, sprinting in our direction.
Hells. We have to gather everyone up. Now. Before we lose too many.
“I need to get the others before I build the portal!” I yell at Cain and point.
He looks from me to the door and seems to figure out what I said. “Bring them here!” he yells. “I’ll stay and fight.” He runs off, Tziah on his heels.
I hand Achlys one of my knives. “Let’s go!”
She stares at it like she has never even seen a knife before. But then she grips it tighter. “I’m right behind you.”
Between groups of Wanderers who are still coming out, we dart inside the building, going against the flow and up the stairs only to be yanked to a stop by a hand on my arm that whips me around.
The zariph.
Behind him stands the zaripha, her hands covered in blood, clutching one of the Tropikan paddle-like weapons. Have they been fighting in here, too?
“Where do you think you’re going?” Cainis demands.
Give me a break. I don’t have time for this. “Cain is outside facing down an army. Go.”
It’s the right thing to say, because his expression, already intimidating, takes on a fierce cast. The face of war.
Cainis shouts something to the Wanderers, then rushes down the stairs, the zaripha on his heels—and the rest of his people yell their battle cry. I’m glad we’re on the same side.
I turn only to plough into Horus and Omma. He and Bene must’ve got back before the gates came down. My knees almost go out from under me when I see he’s holding Tabra, who is out cold, limp in his arms.
“Domina.” He hoists my sister higher.
“Take Tabra, Achlys, and Omma with you and keep them safe. I need everyone together if we’re going to try to get out of here.”
He shakes his head. “I swore to guard you with my life. I’ve already been away too long.”
Damn it. I don’t have time for this, either. “I order you to protect my sister, your queen, until I can get us out of here.”
