Page 47 of Eyes of Kings

A whole host of people are huddling in the gap, rushing for the light as soon as Calla clears the path. She searches through the faces as they scramble to exit, and then…

“Yilas!”

Yilas is gasping when she stumbles before Calla, losing her strength as soon as Calla grabs her arms.

“Calla, you’ve got to find her,” Yilas wheezes.

“FindChami?” Calla demands. She struggles to keep Yilas upright, the sword in her hand held at an awry angle. “Why is she here?”

“I don’tknow!” Yilas cries, and her voice cracks. “I followed her here, but then I lost her right as the man came in through the wall. I thought I should get help so I ran and borrowed the phone but then the whole building collapsed on us and I don’t know where Chami is, Calla. What if she’s hurt? What if—”

A colossalboomresounds nearby, and Yilas squeaks in fright. Its initial clap is followed by groaning metal. Another building, caving in on itself.

Calla grabs Yilas firmly, ushering her away from the rubble, toward the cliffs. “I’ll find Chami,” she promises. “First, I need you to get somewhere safe.”

“Galipei Weisanna came in too,” Yilas says, her words pitched high. “He went into the city. What if he has her?”

“Yilas,” Calla says firmly. “He doesn’t know Chami. He has no reason to take Chami.”

“Butshecame to the wall. What if…”

What if she came to meet him?

Yilas leaves the rest of the worry unspoken, but Calla hears it all the same. She puts Yilas’s hand in hers, guiding her over to the field. The residents are still evacuating, carrying bags and umbrellas.

“We can deal with that later,” Calla says. “Come with—”

A flat slab of debris collides with her back, sending her skidding across the wet grass. Calla’s rolling before she can stop her own momentum. She comes to an abrupt halt only when she hits a water pipe protruding from the devastation. Stars flash in her vision. The lip of the pipe has pierced through her shoulder.

“Calla!”

Her pain is barely the worst of it. Calla blinks hard, trying to gather her bearings. Yilas remains where she is. She doesn’t look like she’s capable of moving. Her arms are locked straight on both sides.

“Calla—”

Calla’s sword has scattered beyond her immediate reach. She finally wields her crown. A pulse of qi shudders through the air, all the little hairs at the back of her neck standing straight. It directly counters the attack that the man throws when he suddenly appears from over the top of the rubble.

The sensation is akin to a physical collision, as though Calla has launched herself against an opponent in a test of strength. Pressure smothers one side of her head. The exertion increases when her opponent steps toward her, drawing closer, then closer. It has never felt like this. It didn’t during the coup. It didn’t during the battle at August’s camp.

Anton, Calla thinks unwittingly. The only difference is that he is not here.

“Yilas,” Calla hisses. “I can’t hold this—”

The man strides forward. He has no color in his irises. There is a sigil painted on his forehead. Calla does not recognize it, but her body knows to fear it. When she hauls herself to her feet, her knees are weak, her head spinning.

The man lifts his arms. To Yilas’s left—where an apartment complex climbs seven floors tall, where the curtains have been pushed back to show frantic, small faces witnessing the scene outside—the structure starts to groan.

Calla wheezes for breath. It had almost been easy, before. Cutting through all those guards, those Weisannas. Now she can barely steady her aim trying to go up against this white-eyed man. Her mind feels as though she is trying to split steel. When she turns her attention, trying to pull the building away from him, his power is as slippery as water, slinking through the gaps of her fingers.

The divine crown has given Calla monumental power. It has given her qi that streams from the heavens. But it does not put her on equal ground to a god.

Her mouth hinges into a silent scream. The crown sears hot around her head, protesting its exertion.Sacrificehas not been fulfilled.

“Yilas, get down—”

Calla releases her qi, sparing herself before she can drain herself empty. Rather than trying to move the man, she redirects her power to shove the first bit of falling rubble. It lands next to Yilas with a dangerouscrack.

She reaches inside her again, calling to the crown desperately. She’s weak. After all the stories and the promises surrounding the divine crown’s power, Calla forms only the image of a mortal in this moment, bound to the heaviness of the earth. Still, when the building begins to tip, threatening to crush Yilas where she stands, Calla has totry.