Master of Iron (Bladesmith #2)(77)

Now I seem to only be surviving.

We take the halls with purpose, like we know what we’re doing and know where we’re going. Ravis’s—no, Kymora’s— men are everywhere. We pause to hide behind things where we’re able, and fake that we belong when we’re not.

No one stops us. Everyone is looking for a smithy, not a soldier. And I certainly look like the latter with the blood coating every part of me.

When we make it to the room of portals, we find it unlocked. Kellyn opens the door, ushers me inside ahead of him.

I lose any sense of sanity I had left when I see what remains.

Destruction.

The portals have been destroyed, rendered useless before Kymora or any one of our enemies could use them.

But everyone seems to have made it through. Except Kellyn and me.

Again.

We’ll never make it out of this castle.

I lose my balance. Lose my feet. Lose my connection to the here and now.

I’m spinning out of control. I can’t breathe. My body feels itchy, hot, and I want nothing more than to claw out of my own skin.

I’m trapped. Forever. I will never be happy. Nothing will ever be okay.

“Ziva…”

Kellyn’s voice sounds so far away, and I don’t feel him even as he grips me. I’m going to lose him. I’m going to lose Temra. I’ve lost everything, and it’s still all my fault.

And then the room spins.

No, just shifts, and Kellyn places me in front of one of the portraits.

Marossa’s.

And my eyes finally focus enough to note one very important thing.

It’s still intact.

Every portal is destroyed except one. The one I had to turn my neck to see.

I grab Kellyn’s hand, and together we step through.

I brace myself for impact. Last time I did this, I struck against a wall. But this time? Nothing. The air is still stale and dust clouds in front of my nose, but I’ll take it. Lights flicker around us, and I think we’re in some sort of hallway.

“Thank the Twins!” a voice I know all too well says.

Temra uses the sharp edge of her sword to scratch along the portal behind us, scraping off the paint. Then, for good measure, she grabs a bucket and throws water onto the portrait. Paint runs down in rivulets, before pooling onto the floor in a brown mess.

Her task done, my sister embraces me. “I’m so relieved you made it! I was getting ready to go look for you if you didn’t show in the next minute.”

“Me too.” Petrik appears farther down the barely lit corridor.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“Secret passage in Marossa’s castle,” Petrik answers.

Kellyn says, “Not so secret anymore.”

Petrik winces. “Things are a bit touchy right now between my brother and sister. Don’t poke the hornets’ nest.”

He and Temra lead us down the tunnel. It’s filthy, the floor coated in mud and feathers and whatever else got dragged through here from all the people evacuating.

“Marossa didn’t like that Skiro revealed the passage to so many people?” I ask.

“Actually, she didn’t even know about it, nor the portal, so you can imagine how she’s feeling right now,” Petrik says.

“But she still welcomed us into her territory?”

“Welcomed is a strong word. Tolerated is more like it. In fact, I need to get back in there so they don’t kill each other. Ziva, Kellyn, would you both come? You know the most about Ravis and his plans. I know my sister would love to hear everything from your mouths firsthand.”

I open my mouth, stutter for a moment, and then sigh. “All right.”

Kellyn says, “We just fought a battle in which we were heavily outmatched, but it’s meeting someone new that might do her in.” If it weren’t for the fondness in his voice while he said it, I might be embarrassed.

When Petrik comes to a halt, his hand reaches forward, searching for something along the wall. There’s a click, and a section swings outward, admitting us into a much brighter space. I squint, unsure if I’m trying to get grit from my eyes or protect them from the sudden light.

Men and women in black livery with an emerald tree stitched on their fronts line the interior of the room. They turn their gazes to us as we walk past but say nothing.

In the corridor, we find more guards. So many guards. I can barely see the walls they’re crammed everywhere.

Princess Marossa may have allowed us into her castle, but she is certainly not trusting anyone. Or perhaps they were only here to help escort the people onward?

“This way,” Petrik says, leading us beyond the serious guards. They stand so still, they don’t look as though they’re breathing.

And of all the thoughts to hit me right now, I think, I’ve spent a lot of time in castles lately.

Before a few months ago, I’d never set foot in one. And now? Now I’ve been to half the royal palaces in Ghadra.

And then, before I’m fully prepared, I’m meeting a third royal, the sovereign over my home territory.

Princess Marossa has black hair braided into fine plaits raining over her shoulders. Her skin is a deep brown, just like Skiro’s and Ravis’s. With flawless skin and large lips, she’s simply stunning. She’s small, lanky like her brothers, though much shorter. She might reach my shoulder if I was standing next to her. Instead of a dress, she wears formfitting leathers. She has a bow over her back, the string looped over one shoulder.