Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(67)

All I could do was nod. My mother tried to smile, but her features twisted with worry, and she shoved me back and up against the wall.

My position gave me a clear view of the dining hall, although I wished that it didn’t, since everyone was screaming, yelling, fighting, and dying. The Mortans had chosen the perfect moment to attack, and they’d taken everyone by surprise. Our guards raised their swords and rushed forward, trying to drive back the invaders, but the Mortans just kept coming and coming, like waves crashing onto a shore, and they cut our men down one by one.

A guard actually broke through the deadly line of Mortans and rushed toward the magier in the midnight-purple cloak. The woman’s hood was up, hiding much of her face, but I could see her lips. They were painted a dark, blackish purple, and they curved up with delight at all the chaos, death, and destruction.

The guard screamed, raised his sword high, and charged at the woman, who watched him come with that same amused expression. Right before the guard would have cut her down, the woman casually flicked her fingers, sending more of her sharp, deadly hailstones spinning toward him. The hailstones punched into the guard’s chest, killing him where he stood, and he dropped to the floor without a sound. Another screaming sob rose in my throat, along with more bile, but I choked them both down.

The weather magier must have sensed my horrified gaze, because she looked at me. I still couldn’t see her face, but her purple lips drew back into another, wider smile, exposing her white teeth, and she headed in my direction, casually flinging her cold magic at anyone who got in her way.

While the fighting raged on, my mother dropped to her knees beside my father. She cupped his face in her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks. Then she wiped away her tears, reached down, and yanked my father’s sword and dagger from his belt.

She surged back up onto her feet and shoved the dagger into my hand. “Here! Take this!”

My sweaty, trembling fingers curled around the cold, hard hilt, and I slid the weapon into my dress pocket to keep from dropping it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the Mortans running toward my mother.

“Look out!” I screamed.

My mother whipped around, and a blue ball of magic erupted on her palm. She reared her hand back to throw her magic at the assassin, but he slashed out with his sword, forcing my mother to lurch to the side and spoiling her aim. The ball of magic slipped through her fingers and dropped to the floor, spraying hard bits of snow and ice everywhere.

My mother hit the wall and bounced off, losing her grip on my father’s sword, which clattered to the ground. She stumbled back toward the assassin. He yelled, raised his weapon, and started to bring it down on her head—

Clang!

A sword thrust forward, stopping the assassin’s blade.

Suddenly, Ansel was there. The assassin’s eyes widened in surprise, but Ansel coolly spun around and slashed my father’s sword across the other man’s chest. With a loud, bloody gurgle, the assassin hit the floor, landing on top of my father.

I had never seen my tutor so much as hold a sword before, and I’d never dreamed that he actually knew how to use one. But another assassin came up on my mother’s left side, and Ansel stepped forward and cut that man down as easily as he had the first one.

Ansel turned back to my mother, a smile on his face. How could he look so happy at a time like this?

The scent of sour, sweaty eagerness blasted off his body, but it was quickly overpowered by the caustic stench of magic. My head snapped to the right. The Mortan magier was drawing her hand back to throw her power at Ansel.

“Watch out!” I screamed again.

I darted forward and shoved him out of the way. A dense ball of purple hailstones exploded against the wall where he’d been standing. A few of the hailstones clipped my shoulder, their sharp edges slicing into my skin and making me scream. I gritted my teeth and reached for my immunity, using it to snuff out the worst of the stinging cold, although I couldn’t do anything about the blood running down my arm.

“Evie!” My mother rushed over to me.

She started to grab my injured arm but then thought better of it. Instead, she took hold of my other shoulder, her gaze searching mine. “Are you okay?”

I didn’t have to look at my arm to know that it was badly cut as well as frostbitten. I could still smell the stench of the magier’s power, and I could feel all the damage her hailstones had done. Tears streamed down my face from the intense pain, but I gritted my teeth and forced myself to nod at my mother.

“We have to get out of here!” Ansel yelled. “This way!”

He waved his hand at my mother, who pushed me forward.

“Follow Ansel!” she yelled. “Hurry! Hurry!”

I cradled my injured arm up against my chest, then fell in step behind my tutor.

Ansel swung my father’s sword in vicious arcs, cutting down every assassin who got in his way. All the while, he headed toward the corridor that led from the dining hall to the kitchen. Behind me, my mother blasted anyone who came near us with her ice magic.

“Get the Blairs!” I heard the Mortan magier yell over the continued chaos. “Don’t let them escape! Or the traitor!”

Traitor? Who was a traitor?

But I didn’t have time to figure it out. The stench of magic filled the air again, and I knew what was coming next.

“Watch out!” I screamed. “Get down!”