The Nightingale looks at me with gleaming eyes, almost as if she’s just showed off that her new puppy knows how to roll over.
Five pedestals loom behind the conclave. On all except one is a grand weapon: a lance, a trident, a hammer, and a brilliant golden bow.
I examine the two warriors, both still except for their heavy breathing. “So, you’ve chosen these poor souls to wield divine weapons.”
Kairyn nods toward the bronze-clad one. “Shenzo wields Autumn’s Lance of Valor.” Then he gestures to the one in turquoise blue. “Pike bears Summer’s Trident of Honor.”
I stroll over to the massive hammer, intricately crafted, both a thing of beauty and power. “You, of course, have chosen Spring’s Hammer of Hope?”
“No one shall wield Spring’s divine relic but I,” he growls in response.
Now, my voice deepens. “Then you do realize you have sentenced yourself and your men to death?”
Before Kairyn can respond, I’m upon him, yanking his wrist and pulling off his huge leather gloves. Dark black veins mar his skin, running from the tips of his fingers up the wrist, beyond to what is hidden by his armor. A sneer escapes me. “As I thought. The corruption has already set in.”
Kairyn pulls his hand away.
“Idiots,” I bellow. I turn to my adopted sister, stalking toward her like an animal. “And you! How could you be so stupid as to allow him to do this?”
The Nightingale steps back. “I thought—”
I grab Kairyn’s arm again, pointing to the lines of rot running through his hand. “These weapons are enchanted by the Queen. They cannot be wielded by any who do not possess her token.”
When the Nightingale gives me a confused stare, I smack my chest. “The High Princes’ necklaces, you fool! The more you use these weapons without one, the deeper the rot will sink.”
Kairyn hunches over, his gaze somehow burrowing through the closed helm. “I am no fool. We shall get the necklaces. The High Prince of Summer is already here. It’s only a matter of time before the rest arrive and they’re under our control.”
The Nightingale smacks her palm against the empty pedestal. “And you, Caspian, were the one instructed to retrieve the fifth weapon! Where is the Sword of the Protector?”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Do you think Keldarion just leaves it lying under his bed, discarded and unprotected? It’s not so easy. I heard even Perth’s new pets couldn’t recover it.”
“Well, figure it out. You know we need all five.” Her gaze shifts to the golden bow. Her movements are so lithe, she appears to float toward it. “And we need to find someone strong enough to use the very weapon the Queen once wielded herself. Her token was lost when she left five hundred years ago.” Her hand drifts up, fingers nearly touching the brilliant string.
“Stop!” Kairyn lunges forward, wrapping his arms around the Nightingale and pulling her back.
“I can do it, Kai,” she snaps. “Let me try!”
Crossing my arms, I raise a brow at the two of them, his arms still laced tight around her. “Do tell what this is all about.”
She sighs. “We know about the corruption. But there’s something different about the Bow of Radiance. Whereas the rot sinks in slowly with the other weapons…”
“The bow has instantly killed anyone who touches it,” Kairyn finishes.
“A shame,” I say.
Kairyn releases the Nightingale and thunders over to me. “Perhaps the almighty Prince of Thorns should like to give it a try.”
“Oh, no thank you. I work hard for this perfect complexion.”
“Enough.” My adopted sister steps between us. “You have more than enough to report to Mother. Kairyn, you must return to the keep. There is work to do with your brother.”
Kairyn glowers down at me, the long owl brow furrowed in a permanent scowl. Then he storms from the room, the two members of his conclave dutifully following.
The Nightingale lingers for a moment. “I have everything under control, Cas.”
“Of course you do, Birdy.” I flick my eyes to the door where Kairyn last stood. “You’re very good, aren’t you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The little charade you’ve got going with the young prince. I saw how he moved to protect you against the bow. You have him eating out of your hand.”
She snorts and crosses her arms. “He’s not so bad.” Then her gaze softens. “There’s something … endearing about him.”