“We must go,” Frell said. “Now. We can’t be trapped down here. We must make for the jungle.”
They all started rushing for the door.
Shiya headed the other way, moving with incredible swiftness. When she neared the cocoon back there, she raised her small cube and danced her fingers across its surface. When she finally turned around, a deep gong sounded from under the floor, shaking the entire place.
A couple of the glass tomes toppled off the shelves and shattered.
Shiya ignored the damage and rushed across the chamber. As she rejoined the group, she pushed the crystal cube into her chest. It melted through her bronze and vanished.
“What did you do over there?” Rhaif asked.
“No one else must learn what’s down here.” Shiya waved them onward. “Ever.”
They all fled upward, with Shiya all but carrying Xan.
As Nyx ran, another gong sounded behind her, striking louder, like a bell marking the passage of time. She glanced back, sensing they needed to be far from here when that chiming reached its end.
57
KANTHE HELD HIS palms toward his brother. “Mikaen, please, you must listen.”
His brother ignored him and headed across the flat stone roof. Mikaen’s face showed no fear, no compassion, only malice. Each step seemed to shine his armor brighter.
Mikaen was followed by the huge Vyrllian Guard, a true crimson mountain.
Kanthe glanced back over his shoulder. Past the roof’s edge, the Monger still waited below. The giant carried a battle-ax in his rocky fists. More knights gathered down there, too. Beyond them, the black dagger of a hunterskiff hovered in a pall of smoke.
Kanthe returned his full attention on his twin. “You know I am no threat to the king or to your future reign. Surely you can’t believe that I aspire for the throne.”
Mikaen stopped with a shrug. “Maybe not now, but there’s no telling later. It’s better for the kingdom that any possibility of a challenge be eliminated. Why else did I go against our father’s wishes and plot your assassination?”
Kanthe went cold with his words. “What? Then the king—”
“Even now, our father wants me to bring you home. He bears an inordinate capacity of tolerance, maybe even love, for you.” Another shrug. “So, I will bring you home. Or at least, your head.”
Kanthe struggled to realign his world to his brother’s words. He felt lightheaded, dizzy, as he fought toward the truth, agonized by his own guilt for judging his father so harshly.
The king never ordered my assassination …
“I tried to have you eliminated once before, back in Azantiia, when you were carousing in the Nethers. My mistake. I should never have trusted thieves and cutthroats to accomplish such a task.”
Kanthe blinked in dismay, remembering being accosted in an alleyway after a night at the Point’d Blade. It seemed a lifetime ago.
“I now know better. Such a duty should have always been mine.” Mikaen reached over to the vy-knight. “Thoryn, your sword, please.”
The man refused with a crimson scowl.
The bright prince was not in the mood to argue. “Do so, or I’ll have the king take your head. To adorn a spike next to my brother’s.”
The Vyrllian eyed Kanthe up and down and rightly judged him to be no threat to Mikaen. The vy-knight withdrew a broadsword and passed it over. It was so heavy that it dragged his brother’s arm down. Mikaen tossed the blade toward Kanthe. It clattered over to his toes.
“Pick it up,” Mikaen ordered. “Let’s have one last game between brothers.”
Kanthe stared down. He had seldom ever touched a sword. When he had, it was in jest, certainly not with any intent to wield it. Swordsmanship was forbidden to a Prince in the Cupboard.
From the smile fixed on Mikaen’s face, his brother knew this, too. Mikaen only made this offer in malice, intending to make sport of Kanthe’s death. Or maybe he would claim later that the dark prince had attacked him, and in all his bright glory, Mikaen had to dispatch the traitor. Kanthe had to admit that it would make for a good story.
But I’ll not help you write it.
Kanthe lowered his arms. “No,” he said firmly, realizing this might be the first time in his life that he had denied Mikaen anything.
And the bright prince clearly did not like it.
Mikaen’s smile curled into a sneer. “So be it.”
His brother yanked free his own blade and stalked toward him.
Kanthe backed a step, nearly tripping off the roof. Anger flared inside him, stoking a rage that had been there his entire life. At being born second to this monster. At all the slights and insults and degradations he’d had to endure in Mikaen’s shadow, all so his brother could shine brighter.
And now here Kanthe was, being threatened by this same bastard.
He lunged and hauled the sword up with a bellow.
Swinging with both arms, Kanthe slashed at his brother. The shock of his attack momentarily dismayed Mikaen. Still, as his brother stumbled back, he knocked Kanthe’s blade away.
The vy-knight, Thoryn, came forward, but Mikaen shouted at his approach. “No! Stand back.”
Mikaen regained his stance, faced Kanthe, and lifted his sword higher in one hand. He motioned Kanthe forward with the other. “Let’s do this, brother.”
With his blood still on fire, Kanthe circled warily, still gripping the heavy sword in both fists. Mikaen lunged, passing easily through Kanthe’s attempt at a defense. The point of Mikaen’s sword plunged at his chest—only to be turned aside at the last moment and slice across Kanthe’s ribs.
A line of fire burst there.
Kanthe fell back a step. Blood welled, running down his flank in a hot river. He tried to attack, but the weight of his sword was unwieldy. Mikaen casually slapped his blade aside and, with a lightning-fast riposte, opened a new stream across Kanthe’s thigh.
Mikaen’s smile brightened. He plainly enjoyed toying with his younger brother. Clearly, Kanthe’s rage was no match against trained swordsmanship.
Kanthe tried battering wildly at his twin, hoping to force his way to the door, to perhaps make his escape back into the dark tunnels. Even this, Mikaen anticipated. He backed from Kanthe’s onslaught, letting him waste his strength. By the time Mikaen reached the door, Kanthe was gasping, barely able to lift his sword.
Mikaen flourished his blade. “I think you’ve learned who the true prince is here. I’ll make your death—”
A heavy swing of silver flashed from the doorway near Mikaen. His brother must have noted it out of the corner of an eye. He twisted and fell back—but not far enough. The edge of an ax slashed across his face, cutting deep, down to bone, from crown to chin.
Mikaen dropped his sword and clutched his face as if trying to hold it together. As he spun around, blood poured through his fingers.
Kanthe rushed toward him, reflexively concerned.
Screaming, Mikaen spun and tumbled away from the threat, knocking Kanthe aside.
Thoryn grabbed Mikaen.
Kanthe reached the doorway as Jace stepped out with his bloody ax. He was followed by Llyra, who flung an arm. A knife flashed. Thoryn twisted at the last moment and took the blade in his shoulder. Ignoring it, the Vyrllian charged with the prince and leaped over the roof’s edge.
Kanthe and the others followed.