Beastly roars emit from Dayton and Kel as they rush forward. But it’s too late. The Nightingale sits up, coughing, and glares at me.
The briars twist, digging deeper into my flesh, thorns breaking skin and rooting into muscle. Against my will, I scream.
“Another step, and I stick her like a pig,” the Nightingale growls.
Kel and Dayton stop, gazes darting between me and Ezryn. Pain roars in my chest as the knights deliver blow after blow against him.
“Stop!” I cry out, desperately reaching for my magic, for anything, but it feels so far away. “Stop!”
I never thought such hatred could be conveyed in only the eyes, but somehow the Nightingale does it. She holds up her hand. The knights stop, then back away.
Ezryn is a bloody pulp, lying face down in the mud. His clothes are rags, his skin ribbons. His dark hair is so matted with blood, it’s plastered to his face.
“Now, that is quite enough of that.” The Nightingale massages her neck. “Accept it, Ezryn. Your brother has a vision for a new world. One where he is not just the spare, the monastery boy. In fact, that old necklace of yours now belongs to him. And with it, he wields the Hammer of Hope.”
Ezryn says nothing. If it weren’t for the bond within my chest, I would wonder if he still breathes.
I have to do something. The briars that bind me … Are they any different from Caspian’s? His thorns always fell so easily under my command. Surely, I can do the same.
I close my eyes and reach out my consciousness, trying to send the tendrils of myself into her briars. My magic slams against a barrier. I push harder, grimacing, but it’s like trying to shove a boulder. Mine and Caspian’s magic lined up so perfectly, we could flow one into the other. But I’m running against a dam here.
Kel steps forward. “The Queen herself gave the Sword of the Protector to Winter. It has been passed down from High Ruler to High Ruler for centuries. You would not be so bold as to threaten the Queen’s order.”
The Nightingale laughs. “Oh, I would be so bold. And then some. But very well, Keldarion. If you are so certain this sword belongs to you, then wield it. Cut me down. Slay me, mighty hero.”
“Careful, Kel,” Dayton murmurs.
But Kel has never been careful. With a roar, he dashes forward, drawing the sword from its sheath.
Then he cries out. Electric pain floods through me and I buckle, only digging myself further into the thorns. Kel falls to the ground, the sword skittering over the dirt. He clutches his wrist. Lines of black magic surge from his palm up his forearm.
The Nightingale strides over and slams a heel down on the hilt. “Annoying, isn’t it, not to have the Queen’s token? Makes it quite challenging to wield the weapons. Unless you’re like my dear knights here. They were never so concerned about their pretty faces, anyway.”
As if responding to her words, the Bronze Knight and the Turquoise Knight lift their helms. I gasp.
Their faces are no longer fae, but something tormented, disfigured. Dark veins pulse beneath rotten skin, leading to eyes flooded red with blood. Chunks of bone jut out, gleaming in the morning light. It’s as if their skin has become too tight, their teeth and eyes and bone bulging out.
“Horrible thing that happens when you wield these weapons without the token. But thankfully, we’ve got four of them now,” the Nightingale says lightly.
Kel crawls toward her. “I don’t care what happens to me. You can’t take my sword.”
An irritated hiss surges out of her throat. “I tire of your heroics! Enough. Don’t you understand, Keldarion? I am in control.” A thorn shoots out from the briar patch and lands straight at my neck. Every gulp I take forces the needle right into my jugular. “Do as I say, or I will bleed her out right now. And do not doubt me when I say it will be my fucking pleasure.”
“Kel, stop.” Dayton holds his hands up. “Just do what she says.”
The Nightingale waltzes up to Dayton. Runs a hand down his bare chest. “Smart boy. Where’s your little Autumn friend? Not that it really matters. We have everything we need from him.” She looks behind her at the Bronze Knight.
Dayton only growls.
The Nightingale snaps her fingers, and the Sapphire Knight walks forward, picking up the Sword of the Protector. It gleams beneath the dappled light. “We can now wield four out of five weapons! And it wasn’t even that hard.” Her piercing blue gaze levels on me. “Only one more.”
“You have my sword. Now let Rosalina go,” Kel says.