Chapter 41

Ceven

CEVEN DIDN’T HESITATE. He couldn’t, not with so much on the line. The instant he’d heard Evangeline’s voice call out from the crowd, he’d felt a blade sink into his heart. No. She couldn’t be here. Not now. But he didn’t have time to question his actions or plan. Nor did he have a choice, not with Sehn’s bloody mark on his arm.

Avana’s shock was notable, and it translated into the blade that almost chopped off the Caster’s arm instead of his head. Ceven’s muscles tensed at Raiythlen’s yowl, imagining the pain, but then he focused on Troy behind him. His sword hung on the belt on his left leg that Ceven knew he favored.

He had to act now.

Ceven ripped free of his cuffs, whirling and punching Troy’s weak leg while pulling out his sword, all before his chains hit the floor. Sinking to the ground, Ceven aimed his blade for Troy’s heart as shattering glass reverberated on all sides of him. All hell broke loose.

Troy and a few other guards closed in on him, while others left to protect the king. Ceven had prepared himself for killing Calais, for cutting him straight down the middle before he could regret it, but Evangeline changed everything. Now, his priority was to get her out of here. The king could wait.

But that was proving to be harder than he’d thought when more guards surrounded him. Tarry was locked up somewhere, and if Evangeline were here, something had happened to Xilo and their plan. Ceven had betrayed Barto. If he, Rasha, or Quan were still in the kingdom, they weren’t coming to his aid. No, he was alone.

A loud shot boomed next to him, and he whipped around in time to see Kirk’s neck explode in red. Ceven didn’t have time to grieve the loss of a former comrade when he planted a kick at the guard behind him, shattering his kneecap while blocking a blow to his unprotected left side. His sword broke in two. Sea Watery hells, this is bad—pain needled up his side as a blade pierced his body.

“I’m going to spitting kill you,” Ceven hissed, knocking the hilt of his broken sword into the guard’s skull. As he fell, Ceven yanked the spear from his hand in time to block two incoming sword strikes, but he wasn’t quick enough, and they cut into his legs. Fiery heat licked up his limbs, pulsing in time with his side.

Boom! Another shot. This time closer.

Troy yelled, yellow feathers changing scarlet. Where were those shots coming from? Ceven turned to the crowd at the same time Troy did. There. On the ground, where Evangeline was gripping . . . was that a Caster weapon? She aimed the barrel at Troy, and it didn’t take long for the Royal Guard to put two and two together. He marched toward her.

This woman . . . she was going to get herself killed! “RUN!” he shouted, blocking another blow to his side. His wounds stung, but he’d had worse, and he wouldn’t bleed out like that poor Caster bastard. Where did he go?

Another blade stabbed past his ear, cutting the top of it and a chunk of hair. He needed to focus or he was going to die. At least Evangeline had listened to him. If only he could’ve stopped Troy, but he was surrounded.

He felt a pang in his chest, not from a blade but from the hatred he felt at himself. For betraying Barto, letting Evangeline get hurt, letting his brother fool him into this blasted mess, for not being the strong, in-control leader he always wanted to be. Instead, here he was, a bastard prince with no one to help him because he had turned them all away. Because he had failed to make the right decisions.

And now he was alone. Alone and losing.