Page 118 of The Stolen Throne
Voice? Is he talking about the goddess inside the amulet or something else?
“What have I done to you?” he whispers.
Istrella surges forward, wrapping her arms around him. “You could never, my love. It wasn’t you.”
Trysolde takes a shuddering breath, gathering her close against him, holding her so tightly, fingers digging into her flesh. I worry he might snap her, but she makes no protest. As they hold each other, she looks back toward us. “Thank you.”
All I can do is nod.
Horus is the one to break the moment, though his voice is low, respectful. “We have to go.”
The king is no longer entranced. That’s obvious to anyone with two eyes and a brain. His people won’t try to stop us as we leave, but there’s an urgency underlying Horus’s voice.
He’s right. The plan was to get in and out as fast as possible.
Trysolde and Istrella get to their feet, still wrapped in each other.
“Go,” she says. “We can’t keep your presence a secret easily, but we won’t be the ones to tell Eidolon, either.”
That’s the best they can do. We don’t wait, making for the door.
“Sorry, brother,” Vos tosses at a man on the floor who’s nursing a bleeding nose. “Stay out of my way next time.”
He gets a blood-soaked glare in return, which only makes him grin. Behind him, Hakan grins, too. So does Pella.
No one stops us as we burst out of the room. We did it. We actually did it. As long as we get out of the dominion safely, we now have two of the six amulets. Four to go.
That moment of jubilant back-patting lasts all of two seconds before Reven wobbles, then leans heavily against the wall, skin going clammy pale.
“Hells,” Vos mutters and moves to Reven’s side, levering him up so he takes Reven’s weight. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Is there a back way out of the castle?” Horus asks, glancing over his shoulder as we make our way through the empty halls. The people must’ve heard the ruckus of the fight and cleared out, because the place is almost as barren as the Tyndran temple.
“There are many ways out of the castle,” Reven says in a thready voice. “But only one way over the moat.”
“Better check for blood, then,” Horus says. “The guards won’t know what happened and aren’t likely to let us pass if we appear looking like we’ve been in a battle.”
We all pull up short at that, because he’s right. If we don’t want to be stopped on our way out, not looking like we just busted a few heads together is a good start. Reven and I are fine—that much I know. The others, however, were in close-quarters hand-to-hand combat. Pella, in particular, is covered.
“I didn’t do anything all that violent,” she insists when Hakan lifts a single eyebrow at her, although I’m pretty sure he’s amused rather than horrified. Pella doesn’t see that, though, and grumbles, “That soldier spit a mouthful of blood all over me.”
“You knocked out his teeth,” Hakan points out.
I’m the only one with something on hand that can cover her up. “Here.” I whip the fur-trimmed cloak off my shoulders.
She backs up like I’m offering her poison. “I can’t wear that. They’d know. I’m not wearing anything near that nice, and it will look strange.”
“Not if you keep it closed,” I say. “It’s better than the blood.”
Without a word, Hakan takes it from me and wraps it around her.
Pella goes as stiff as a bamboo reed as he ties the collar around her neck. Her gaze is trained on him like she’s waiting for him to strike her. “I thought you couldn’t touch.”
His gaze flickers to her. “I can if I’m very, very…careful.”
“Keep moving,” Vos says, hefting Reven along.
We make our way out of the rest of the castle unhindered. When we hit the open courtyard where everyone is going about their daily lives as though something huge hasn’t just happened inside, Reven insists on walking on his own. Somehow, he manages to do it without looking like he’s about to fall over, and the guards allow us to pass through the portcullis without comment. I shouldn’t yet, but I breathe a small sigh of relief, glancing over my shoulder. We haven’t been followed, and we haven’t been stopped.
