Page 170 of Heir of Broken Souls

Knox shakes his head. “They don’t have the ability to turn invisible.”

“That we know of,” Harlow retorts.

My dragon sword suddenly flies upwards, its hilt out to the side, as if waiting for me to grasp it. Following the pull low in my belly, I gingerly wrap my hand around it.

The sword flies forward, jerking me, and I yelp. Knox wraps his hands around my waist, keeping me in place as the blade tugs and tugs and tugs.

“What kind of magic is this?” I breathe.

“I don’t trust it,” Lenox mumbles.

“You don’t trust anything,” Harlow retorts. “I say we follow it.”

“Of course you do, it isn’t your blade that suddenly has a mind of its own.” As the words come out, I pause. It’s similar to my magic, like it’s grown a mind of its own. “There’s magic within it,” I declare with certainty I shouldn’t feel.

“Obviously,” Harlow drawls.

Ignoring her, I turn to Knox, who still holds me firmly in place. “Something woke it.”

Chapter63

Knox

Nothing about this feels right, but I’m wedged between a rock and a hard place, again. We’ve come too far to turn back now, and by the look in Delilah’s gaze, she’s thinking the same.

So I carefully shove the rage of the bond down deep as it screams for me to scoop Delilah in my arms and take her as far away from here as I can, and release my grip on her waist.

Delilah flies forward, the blade not wasting any time pulling her through the cave. I’m close on her heels, more gas lamps similar to those we saw at the cave entrance flaring to life along the walls as we run. My court are hot on my heels.

The blade in my hand turns slick with sweat as my mind tries to prepare myself for what we might face. Demonic dragons, hounds, Phookas—I wouldn’t be surprised to find Peter himself standing down here with a wicked glint on his face.

What I don’t expect to find, however, are statues as large as three-story buildings.

The blade stops its hurried assault in the midst of them. Dozens of them. Gray stairs lead up to where they stand. Some look to be warriors and ancient rulers, but they all vary, representing the elemental courts.

“This truly was the governing building,” Lenox whispers in awe.

My gaze snags on Axel as his chest heaves. He’s probably thinking the same thing I did.

Ace would have loved this.

Then, poised around the room are ginormous statues of the seven archangels, their features carved to perfectly replicate what I saw in Delilah’s vision of them. I might not know much about them but my mother used to sing a lullaby to me when I was a small child, talking about the seven archangels and their specialties. Their statues showcase those specific individualities from the song.

The archangel of love holds a heart in her palm.

The archangel of death carries a small human skull.

The archangel of blessings has her palms open in offering.

The archangel of beauty is carved to perfection.

The archangel of animals is surrounded by all sorts of wildlife in the carving.

The archangel of nature blooms vines and flowers along every crevice.

And last, but certainly not least, the archangel of warriors holds a large sword in his hand.

The blade suddenly drags Delilah forward again, done waiting for us. Delilah stumbles up the stairs as she struggles to keep up with its harried pace. The blade begins to shake in her hand, like it’s excited.