Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(111)

Some of the magiers tried to summon up their lightning, fire, and ice, but the gargoyle kept bounding from one side of the gazebo to the other and back again, knocking the magiers to the ground. A few of them managed to stay upright long enough to hit him with their magic, but his stone skin was a thick, natural barrier against their power, and the lightning, fire, and ice didn’t so much as scorch his body.

“Here,” Gemma said, holding out the dagger in her hand. “I brought you this. Alvis made it for me, but I don’t know how to use it yet. Not like you do.”

I took the dagger from her. It was made of tearstone, and the hilt featured the same gargoyle crest as the pendant around Gemma’s neck.

“Thank you for this. Now you and Grimley need to get out of here.”

“What? No!” Gemma said. “I want to stay. I want to help you fight the Mortans.”

I shook my head. “No, you need to get to safety. You and Grimley need to go to the throne room and tell everyone what’s happening. I’ll watch your back, and I’ll be right behind you. Okay?”

Gemma didn’t like the thought of leaving me, but she nodded. “Okay.”

I hugged her close again for a moment. “You and Grimley run back to the throne room as fast as you can. One . . . two . . . three . . . go!”

“Grimley!” Gemma yelled. “Let’s go!”

She waved her hand at the gargoyle, then turned and sprinted out of the gazebo, heading away from me and the Mortans. Grimley let out another loud, grumbling roar and charged through the middle of the structure. He plowed through the Mortans again, making them scream and tumble to the ground. I grinned. I was really starting to like that gargoyle.

Gemma vanished into the hedge maze, and Grimley loped along behind her, also disappearing from sight.

Two assassins staggered to their feet and headed after Gemma and Grimley. I sprinted forward and slashed out with my daggers, slicing the blades across the assassins’ backs. The two women screamed and tumbled back down to the ground.

I started to run out of the gazebo and follow my friends into the hedge maze when the hot, caustic stench of magic filled the air. On instinct, I ducked down and spun to my right. A ball of purple lightning exploded against the stone column where my head had been. I whirled around.

Maeven was standing in front of me, another ball of purple lightning already sparking to life on her fingertips. The magier had gotten back up onto her feet, along with Dahlia. About a dozen assassins were also still alive. Some of them were clutching swords in their hands, while others were cradling balls of lightning, fire, and ice in their palms.

“Seems your little scheme has gone sideways,” I sneered at Maeven and Dahlia. “As soon as Gemma reaches the throne room, it’s all over for you two.”

“And I can still kill you right here and now,” Maeven hissed back. “Die, Winter queen!”

She drew back her hand and tossed her lightning at me, but once again, I ducked out of the way. The magic hit another column and exploded, sending sparks and smoke boiling up into the air.

Maeven screamed in frustration and tossed more lightning at me, but I dodged it as well. Then, before she could summon up any more magic, I tightened my grip on the daggers in my hands and ran toward her, just as determined to kill her as she was to murder me.

She waved her hand at the other magiers. “Get her, you idiots!”

Three assassins with swords charged at me. I let out a loud yell and stepped up to meet them.

I dodged the first assassin, then the second one, but the third one came at me head-on, and I snapped up one of my daggers to block his attack. Our weapons clanged together, and that one loud, harsh note unlocked that phantom music in my head. Suddenly, Serilda’s voice was whispering in my mind, and Xenia’s cane was beating out the rhythm of the deadly dance.

The assassin pressed his advantage, trying to shove his sword into my chest, but I snapped up my other hand and stabbed him in the throat with my second dagger. I ripped the blade free, cutting off his choking scream, then sliced my dagger across his stomach, spilling his blood and guts all over the gazebo floor.

Then I whirled around to do the same thing to the second man, then the third.

Their screams tore through the air, punctuating the music in my mind, and blood spattered everywhere, as though I were dancing in the rain. Only this rain was death, and I was the one pouring it down on everyone.

I finished with those three assassins, but there were still several more left, and they reached for even more of their magic. Lightning, fire, and ice sizzled, crackled, and frosted their hands, even as the same magic burned in their eyes.

I was standing in the middle of the gazebo, surrounded by the magiers. Their magic surrounded me as well, and I wasn’t strong enough to overcome all of it at once. Maeven had been right before. Not even the tearstone daggers in my hands and the bracelets on my wrists would save me from this much magic.

Despite knowing how badly this was going to end, I gripped my daggers even tighter, and I reached for my immunity, pulling it up, up, up and pretending that it was a strong, malleable shield coating my skin.

I was going to die fighting, just like a true gladiator would.

“And now, Winter queen,” Maeven snarled, moving to stand in front of me, “you will finally feel the full might of Morta.”

She lifted her hand, and another ball of purple lightning popped to life in her palm, stronger than all the other magiers’ power combined, and far stronger than any other magic I had ever felt before, much less tried to extinguish with my own immunity. I ground my teeth, bracing myself for what was coming next—and just how much it was going to hurt.