The Silver Siren (Iron Butterfly, #3)(72)

“I knew you would come back. I knew that you cared,” Portia said.

“Xiven,” I interrupted. “Have you seen Xiven? My cousin. We need to try and save my cousin.”

She pulled away and a frown appeared on her face. “No, I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

“What about Prince Sevril?” I was now fully alert. This was not what I was expecting.

“No. He didn’t come down for dinner last night or for any meals today.”

“Then who’s going to help Siobhan?” I cried out, letting my worry and frustration ring through my voice. I knew we couldn’t keep her unconscious forever. She would eventually wake up on her own. And then, Cirrus could kill her.

“She’ll be fine. But we need to discuss you and your future.” Portia admonished me, but I just ignored her. Whatever she was going to say wasn’t important.

No one understood my concern. Siobhan was me. If they couldn’t help her, then what chance was there of ever saving me?

Loud footsteps rushed down the hall and one of the Elite came in with a worried expression on his face. He spoke quickly and quietly to Lady Portia. His shoulders straightened and he turned to give me a onceover before he spoke aloud.

“They’re here,” he said stiffly.

Portia let out a little scream of fright, pulled up her skirt and ran out of the room. I ran after her. I watched as Portia ran down a hall away from the front door. I left my cousin and ran to the main hall, where I saw that a small selection of weapons had appeared. I watched as servants and anyone willing to defend the castle began to assemble themselves for battle. My throat constricted when I saw a young boy of ten or so pick up a sword much too heavy for him.

I immediately pulled it out and tossed it onto the table. I grabbed a shorter, lighter sword and handed it to him. He gave me a defiant look and I couldn’t help but raise my voice at him.

“You won’t be able to handle the larger sword. It’s too heavy and not balanced right for your arm length. Speed is your ally. Hiding and attacking from afar. Only engage in hand-to-hand combat when cornered. Do you understand me?” Next, I handed him the smallest of the crossbows, one that I knew he could load as well as a quiver of arrows.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said before darting off to what I hoped was a good hiding spot. He seemed relieved that I didn’t deny him his right to defend his home. I should have told him to run to the woods and not come back. I took it upon myself to make sure that the household staff was properly outfitted with weapons. It didn’t matter how much convincing I did. The head cook wouldn’t choose any other weapon other than the meat cleaver. The same with the older boys. They took up stations using scythes and hoes. Each person chose a weapon they knew and were comfortable with over something that was foreign.

I couldn’t help but feel a mixture of pride for their willingness to fight and sadness. This day would end in a lot of death.

For myself, I found a bow and a quiver full of arrows. Next, I chose a knife and began to work on my dress. It had long since been destroyed by my foray through the woods and riding. I sliced the dress off at the knees and cut long slits up the sides, so it resembled a tunic. My riding boots, thankfully, were high and would offer some protection.

I went out to the courtyard and met my father and his men; they were preparing to go with King Tieren to meet the army. Bearen and Fenri were already mounted. I had convinced my father to take Faraway into battle instead of his own steed. There was no one I trusted more to take care of my father if things went downhill. Faraway would protect my father since I couldn’t. Even now, I could easily spot Faraway’s gleaming white coat with Bearen’s large form riding next to Gideon. Everyone’s faces mirrored the same grim expression.

Keep him safe. I shot to Faraway as he rode proudly on.

I will take care of him. I promise.

Syrani came and stood by me. As the men rode toward the gate, she reached forward and gripped my arm.

“I’ve never been so scared in my life,” she confessed. “This is nothing like the arena.” She gently led me toward the stone steps to go to the wall where we could try and watch the armies meet.

“I know what you mean. There is no safe zone. We can and will die in battle.” I gave her a reassuring squeeze. “But I think you might have an advantage here. There’s a whole lot of earth, and you’re very strong.” I encouraged.

“I am strong. I’m one of the strongest Denai ever born in earth,” she said confidently. Syrani’s blonde hair was braided and tucked under her cloak. A stray wisp kept getting blown about by the wind. She tucked it behind her ear again.

I could feel her anxiety.

“But I’m not as strong as you. I felt it, in the arena, your power. When you were under the earth, I could feel you start to give up. But then I felt a sudden surge of power burst forth out of you, and you counter-attacked. Are there more like you? Out there?” She nodded with her chin to the approaching army.

“Oh, stars, I hope not. I don’t think I’m strong enough to face others like me.”

“You’ve changed since the arena. If anything, you’re stronger,” she argued.

“There’s a barrier here.” I snapped back, suddenly irritated. “It makes it harder for me to use my gifts. Unlike you.”

Syrani spun to face me, her nostrils flared in anger and a heated spark flashed in her eyes. “The only barrier is in your mind.”