There’s the screech of metal, and I whirl to the elevator. The Nightingale and the trident-wielding knight step out.
Her gaze shifts from the guard with his pants around his ankles to me splayed on the stone tablet. She draws a dagger from her hip and throws with deadly precision.
“Ezryn! Look out!” I scream, scrambling up, desperately shoving my dress down.
But the dagger wasn’t aimed at him. It strikes the guard in the skull. He drops. The Nightingale waltzes over to retrieve her blade. “Disgusting creatures, men. Aren’t they?” She shakes her head. “Regrettable. But I promise to make your death quick.”
She draws another dagger and throws. Silver flashes, and Ezryn steps in front of me and knocks it away with his sword.
“Going to try and kill me too?” She sniffs, hand on her hip. “Half this monastery is already dead. You saw to that.”
I pull myself up, gripping the back of Ezryn’s shirt, needing that contact with him.
The Nightingale makes a clicking sound, as if considering. “Kai won’t be happy about me killing you. But nothing will keep me from my vengeance. Even you, Prince of Blood.”
With a wave of the Nightingale’s hand, the Turquoise Knight charges. He hurtles his trident at Ezryn, who intercepts the attack, blocking and pushing his adversary to the side.
But it leaves me wide open for the Nightingale. She tilts her head, and her hood shifts slightly. Poking out from beneath her pointed ear is the white petal of a flower. A stardrop.
Odd. I wouldn’t think she’d wear anything that isn’t completely practical. She walks toward me, unbothered.
Desperately, I grasp the spear of one of the fallen soldiers and run at her. I toss it. She sidesteps out of the way easily. But the move brought me right beside her.
“Did you really think that would do anything?” she asks.
“No, but this will.” I shoot my hand beneath her hood and snatch the white flower. Then stuff the whole thing in my mouth.
Because I’ve seen this flower before. Seen it pinned in the armor of Kairyn and his Penta Conclave. Seen the acolytes who work in the keep wear them behind their ears. Even Eldy wore one for a time.
This is the antidote.
That’s why Kairyn’s minions are always wearing them. He didn’t want to chance one of his loyal followers being corrupted by any of this poisoned magic.
The white bloom negates the magic. At least smelling it does. When I walked up the mountain in a haze, passing a patch of them cleared my head slightly.
But I can’t just smell this; the poison she gave me is in my system.
I gulp the petals down. Either this will kill me or…
“Stop!” the Nightingale snarls, drawing a slim blade and striking it toward me.
Or it will save us.
The Nightingale is too late.
My magic is back.
I feel for her iridescent thorns scattered throughout the room. She’s not expecting my attack, and I easily make them my own, bringing them up as a shield around me. Her blade embeds in the briar, giving me a precious moment to think.
A quick glance shows me Ezryn is holding his own against the Turquoise Knight, despite the divine weapon.
I need to get to him. Then I can try to use the Nightingale’s vines to carry us out of here.
A briar snags me around the ankle, and I fall.
“If you want to play with thorns,” the Nightingale snarls, “you’re going to get pricked.”
“Likewise.” I shoot out my hands, taking control of two briars. They writhe up, slashing across her stomach.
Ezryn lets out a grunt as the prongs of the trident rake against his shoulder. He twists, slamming his blade against the knight. The turquoise armor shimmers in the dim light as Ezryn's blade rebounds harmlessly off the breastplate. Gritting his teeth, Ezryn dances back.
The Turquoise Knight laughs, then twirls his trident until the whole thing glows and the smell of sea water infuses the room.
I need to concentrate on my own fight, but I can’t take my eyes off Ez. I pull at the briars holding my ankle, tearing them loose, and scramble away from the approaching Nightingale.
With a huge force, the Turquoise Knight shoots forward and smashes Ezryn on the side of the head with the trident’s shaft. He staggers backward, grabbing the bow’s pedestal to steady himself.
“Careful! Don’t touch it!” I scream.
Ezryn gazes up at the radiant weapon and hastily pulls his hand back.
The Nightingale drops her dagger and barrels down on me, fingernails like claws over my face, tearing at my hair. “Magic isn’t enough to save you. You’re not special. You’re soft! Weak!”