Jace edged across the room to peer over Kanthe’s shoulder. “Maybe we should retreat to the tunnels. I searched them while we waited. They don’t delve that deep, but they crisscross into a small maze.”
“Not yet,” Kanthe breathed out.
He wanted to better assess this threat.
Plus, I hate the dark.
He eyed the forces gathering outside. Besides the giant Monger, he counted fifteen knights. Likely a handful more inside. The legion spread out with bows and swords raised. A few men faced the forest, but the rest aimed their attention toward the stack of homes.
“We can’t hold out here,” Llyra said, drawing the corner of his eye. She fiddled with a steel throwing knife in her fingers. She finally pointed its tip back at the low threshold into the caves. “We need to find some narrows back there. A place where we can squeeze their numbers down, enough for us to defend ourselves.”
Kanthe glanced back.
She’s right.
Pratik added a cautious caveat. “That will only buy us a few breaths. They’ll surely burn us out of any hole if they grow too frustrated.”
Kanthe grimaced.
He’s right, too.
Still, they had little other choice. He began to turn from the window, when a flash of bright silver drew his attention back. A massive Vyrllian climbed out of the hunterskiff, trailed by a smaller figure in brilliant armor. His helm reflected even the meager light under the mists.
Kanthe stiffened.
Mikaen …
“We should go,” Llyra warned.
Kanthe squeezed his bow harder. He watched his twin brother draw toward the line of knights facing the homes. “You all go,” he whispered to the others. “Find a place to hide.”
Jace took a step back. “But what are you—？”
“I’m going to say hello to my brother.”
He straightened and stepped toward the door.
Llyra turned back to her window and swore. “What do you hope to accomplish, Kanthe? They’ll feather your body with arrows before you take three steps.”
“I hope not,” he said. “But either way, such a distraction might buy you those few extra breaths that Pratik has so thoughtfully counted for us.”
Kanthe also had another reason.
Back in the swamps, he had dodged the blades of the assassins, but a part of him had come to believe his doom was inevitable, that he had only borrowed these extra days. Still, the reprieve had given him a chance to finally hunt the Cloudreach and meet a half-sister who was far more beautiful than she had any right being, proving the gods had a wicked sense of humor.
Plus, as much as he hated to admit it …
I owe it to Mikaen to at least try.
He pictured the box he had handed to his brother before he departed for the swamps, the tiny pottery of two brothers clasping arms. He remembered their youth, running wild through Highmount, laughing under blankets, playing tricks on unwitting servants, stealing sweetcakes from under the cook’s nose. He stared at the shining prince on the smoky field.
He’s still my brother.
Maybe Mikaen knew nothing about the assassination attempt. Perhaps his brother could be persuaded to his better graces—at least more merciful ones.
“Don’t go,” Jace urged.
The journeyman’s plea was far less heartfelt than his good-bye to Nyx, but Kanthe appreciated Jace’s concern.
Still, he stepped to the door. “Go. Hide. I’ll do what I can. If nothing else, I must warn my brother about what Nyx portended. The kingdom needs to know.”
Even if it means my death.
He took a big breath, lifted his bow over his head in both hands, and strode from the shadows into the misty light.
Let me shine at least this much …
At his appearance, archers stiffened in wary surprise. Swords were raised higher. Someone shot off a bolt that shattered against the stone wall to his right. He refused to flinch. He took slow steps toward the line of knights.
“I’m Prince Kanthe!” he called over. “I wish to speak to my brother!”
Mikaen tried to step around the tall crimson figure, only to be held back by an arm. Even under the silvery helm, his brother’s sea-blue eyes shone toward him.
“Where are the other traitors?” Mikaen shouted back at him. “Send them out!”
Kanthe lowered his bow to the ground, then stepped over it. He kept his hands high. “There are no traitors here. Only those trying to stop a coming doom. You must listen to what I have to say.”
By now, he had crossed half the distance toward the row of knights.
Mikaen glared across the line at him.
Kanthe’s footsteps faltered. Not from the hatred shining in his brother’s face—though that was there—but from Mikaen’s dark measure of glee. Born from the same womb and raised together, they knew each other better than anyone else. He watched the mask fall from Mikaen’s bright face, revealing the roil of shadows beneath.
“You should’ve died in the swamps,” Mikaen called over, his voice thick with spite. “Your death from here will not be so gentle.”
Kanthe finally stopped.
I should’ve listened to Jace.
* * *
MIKAEN SAVORED THE look of dismay on his brother’s face. Knights closed off any retreat. Kanthe’s allies would soon be rooted out of their holes. Mikaen planned on torturing them in front of his brother.
Thoryn shouted next to him, “Secure the traitor! Prepare to scour that rampart for any other insurrectionists!”
As the Vyrllian captain stepped forward, Mikaen rounded past his shoulder. He wanted to watch Kanthe brought to his knees. As the knights forced him down, his brother closed his eyes, as if refusing to accept his downfall.
Oh, there will be far worse to watch, dear brother, before you die.
Thoryn suddenly grabbed Mikaen’s shoulder, drawing him back. With his blood fired, Mikaen shook free with a bark of frustration.
The captain lunged again. “Get dow—”
A flaming barrel fell from the sky and crashed in front of the line of knights.
The blast threw him straight back. He struck the ground hard enough to knock his breath out. Gasping, Mikaen watched the belly of a sailraft glide past. The dark shadow of another firebomb tumbled from its stern.
Mikaen curled to his side as it exploded behind him.
The world briefly became flame and smoke.
As Mikaen coughed and gasped, Thoryn dragged him up. Behind them, the hunterskiff fired bolts at the attacking craft, but it was already rolling back into the mists. On his feet, Mikaen turned. Kanthe had broken free of his captors and now raced toward the stone homes. Along the way, his brother scooped up his bow as he fled past it.
No …
Mikaen jerked free of Thoryn and sped after his brother through the smoke.
The captain cursed, then boomed orders as he followed. “To Prince Mikaen! Keep him guarded!”
Behind Mikaen, the hunterskiff ignited its flashburn forges. It went roaring skyward. The attack ship dared not stay grounded. It was too vulnerable with an enemy hiding above. Only in the air could such a craft prove its namesake, to become a true hunter.
In truth, Mikaen did not care what happened above.
He focused on the ground, on his brother. Ahead, Kanthe dashed through a door and vanished. Mikaen flashed to when they were boys, playing countless games of hunter and prey, often hiding in closets or pouncing over stair rails onto one another.