He smiled at me, but there were no dimples. The expression didn’t reach his eyes, and I felt tears stinging mine. “It’ll be okay.”
“I know,” I said, even though I knew it wouldn’t be.
“I’m getting you out of here.”
A knot formed in my throat. “I can stop this. They won’t harm me. I can go—”
“They cannot have you, Poppy. I know what they will do to you.” His bloody fingers splayed across my cheek. “I cannot breathe when I think about that. I’m getting you out of here.”
A knot formed in my throat. “What about the others? Naill? Delano? Von—”
“They will take care of themselves,” he swore. “I need to get you out of here. That is all that matters right now.”
But it wasn’t.
Spessa’s End mattered. The people mattered. “What about the people? The ones who can’t fight.”
“They’ll be warned. We had plans in place in case this happened. They’ll be warned, and they’ll have time to get out. They’re in a better position to do so than us. We’ll have to fight our way out.” His eyes held mine. “You understand that?”
I nodded as the knot expanded. “I’m sorry—about Spessa’s End.” My voice cracked. “About Elijah. About all of them—”
“You are what matters now.” Casteel kissed me, and it was hard and fierce. A clash of teeth and fangs that tasted of blood and desperation. “You do. We do. Us surviving this. That is what matters.”
Dragging in a deep breath, I cleared my mind of the panic and sorrow, and nodded.
“You ready, Poppy?”
“Yes.”
He smiled again, but this time, his dimples appeared. “Let’s kick some ass.”
“Let’s,” I whispered.
Casteel rolled out from under the catapult and shot to his feet, thrusting his sword into the first soldier. I followed, climbing to my feet. I’d been wrong earlier. I hadn’t truly known madness until then—until they came from all sides, reaching for me when they realized who I was, stabbing and lurching at Casteel.
Sweat and blood slicked my skin, my grip on my sword and dagger perilous. I smelled and tasted and saw death. Each handful of feet we gained, we were surrounded again. The ground became oily with offal. My boots sliding as I screamed, driving the dagger into a chest. My muscles shrieked with protest as I swung the sword, slicing into necks and stomachs and arms—at anyone that got too close.
A blow caught my cheek, causing me to stumble into Casteel. Catching myself, I kicked out, dropping the man to his knees. I didn’t think twice as I drove the sword through his skull, and I couldn’t keep my senses locked down anymore. They opened, seizing my breath as my senses stretched out, forming connections with those around us, and…oh, gods, there was so much fear. The bitterness mixed with the taste of the blood, choking me as I swung, my arm knocking into Casteel’s as I stabbed at a man—
A man who was afraid.
They were afraid to die, afraid not to fight, and just…afraid. I shuddered as I turned, seeing faces young and old, white and brown and black. Their emotions poured into me. I couldn’t shut it off. Couldn’t take the time to concentrate as I moved in front of a blow meant for Casteel. A blow that was pulled back only at the last second, and then I killed him. I killed the man who projected terror into the air.
And something…something was happening inside me. It was waking up, stretching and expanding, filling my veins and causing my skin to hum as I leapt forward, slamming the wolven dagger deep into a chest, swallowing the soldier’s fear and drowning in his agony—in their fear and agony.
A hand grabbed my braid, yanking me back. My feet went out from under me, and Casteel spun. More hot blood sprayed the air, our faces. Our gazes connected as he helped me stand, and then we spun back around, hearts pounding as we tripped over bodies, as soldiers pressed in, as orders were shouted—take her, kill him, seize them both. As something exploded from deep within me, inhaling all the fear and agony and primal emotions, and all of it rose inside me. The swirling, churning mass of emotions clawed at my insides, my throat, and I needed to shut it down. I had to shut it all off—
I dropped the sword as I brought the dagger to my own throat. “Stop!” I shouted. “Stop, or I will slit my throat.”
Casteel whirled toward me. “Poppy—”
“I’ll do it,” I warned as one of the soldiers stepped up to Casteel. “I’ll cut my throat wide-open if any of you take another step forward. I doubt any of you will live if that happens. He’ll take you down.”