The Silver Siren (Iron Butterfly, #3)(75)

I hesitated. I couldn’t abandon Syrani.

He saw my hesitation. Sevril took a deep breath looked me in the eyes and begged. “Please. I need your help.”

It was the ‘please’ that did it. I ran after him, careful to not look at all of the dead bodies lying on the ground. Even though they were strangers, a sense of heavy injustice filled me. They were my people. They were Sirens like me. Blood watered so thin we couldn’t possibly be related, but still. I felt like they were my responsibility.

Swords and shields clashed as the army made it through one of the partially repaired walls. They were right on our heels. The large double doors were barely being held open as a servant waited for Prince Sevril and me to dash through. As soon as I passed through the threshold, the doors were slammed and bolted. Furniture started to pile up in front of the doors. Ready to make a last defense, the servants faced the oncoming slaughter with grim determination.

This day was a rewriting of history. Only this time, it wasn’t the Denai being slaughtered but the Sirens.

We could hear the pounding of the castle doors as the army tried to break in. Servants and more troops arrived to block the door with more heavy objects, tables and chairs. More of the Elite in armor gathered in the main hall preparing to defend with their lives. It was odd. A few days ago, they’d been my enemies. Now they were trying to save me.

Sevril pulled me on. I followed him down hall after hall, until he came to a large marble sculpture in an alcove. Sevril stepped up to the statue and pulled the curtain behind the alcove to reveal a small wooden door. With a quick push, he had it open and beckoned me to follow him down a dark set of stairs. Why did everything always have to lead down? I halted and he turned to stare at me impatiently.

“Come on,” he grabbed my hand and pulled me down after him.

“No, not until you tell me where we’re going.” I argued. A loud crash and the metal clang of swords alerted me that the invaders had breached the main hall.

“We don’t have time for explanations,” Xiven suddenly appeared behind me. His hands hit my shoulder blades and pushed me roughly down the stairs. I fell forward the first three steps, my ankle twisting as I tried to catch myself.

Xiven entered and bolted the door behind him, encasing us in darkness.

Sevril reached down and tried to help me back up, but now I was limping. He put his head down next to mine and wrapped my arm around his shoulders. He half-dragged, half-carried me the rest of the way down the stairs. I impeded him with my awkwardness and refusal to walk where I couldn’t see.

Xiven stopped and felt along the wall for a torch.

A few seconds later, it was lit. Then, I was only semi-impeding Prince Sevril’s movements.

“Where’s Tomac?” I asked as the stairs ended and we were met with a catacomb of tombs. Again I tried to stop.

“Thalia, for the love of all that is good, you have to keep going,” Xiven said.

Sevril shook his head. “I don’t know. I saw him run out in the first wave of troops to meet the army. I hope the fool survives.” Fear raced across his face and he kept running his sleeve over his eyes, evidently trying to keep the tears at bay.

Xiven took the torch and now led Sevril and me to another door that he held open, waiting for me to enter.

As soon as I cross the threshold, I wished I hadn’t.

It was the machine, the torture device.

The iron butterfly.

Every part of me started to shake in terror and I grabbed the handle to the door and tried to rush out. Xiven held the door closed and Sevril grabbed my arms. Tears raked down my face and I started to sob.

A hand slapped my face.

I blinked in anger at Sevril.

He leaned in close to me, his hot breath on my neck. “Stop crying. You don’t have time for tears.”

Anger flowed through my body and I punched Sevril in the face. I watched in pleasure as his head snapped back and his lip started to bleed.

His eyes lit up and he became excited. “Yes, that’s it. You pathetic excuse for a Valdyrstal. You half-breed imposter to the throne.”

This time I balled up both fists and focused on his pretty front teeth. I was determined to take out a few. “I don’t want your bloody throne, but I’m not above leaving Tomac next in line,” I growled out. Feinting a punch, I spun and kicked him in the stomach. Sevril grunted and then fell back into a table full of beakers and instruments. Glass crashed and shattered on the stone floor.

Xiven yelled at me, “Thalia, stop it! You are not helping any by destroying Sevril’s sacrifice.”

I whirled on Xiven who was working on pulling open the metal bands and preparing the machine for the next victim. This one looked different than the one I spent weeks in but also different than the one I saw in Fanny’s workshop. I felt like I had come full circle.

“Thalia, I told you in Skyfell that I was your friend. I really hope that right now, you can believe me and trust me what we are about to do.”

“You almost killed me, and then you ran away,” I confronted Xiven, pushing him.

His skin color deepened in embarrassment. “If Talbot had found out I challenged you in a fight, I would have been dead anyway. And if I remember correctly, you were the one who almost killed me.”

“Something I now regret not finishing properly,” I hissed.

“Good, Thalia, that’s it. Stay angry. It will help you through the pain and will bring out the Siren in you faster.”