The Girl King (The Girl King #1)(115)

The noise was horrific, engulfing them as they approached. The copper tang of blood filled the air along with the cloying stench of burned flesh. Where was that coming from?

The Hana troops were bottlenecked at the entrance of the Heart, and for a moment Lu couldn’t understand why they weren’t advancing. Then she saw Vrea in front of them, pale and still. Shen and Jin rode up to flank her, Jin’s paltry army following suit, swords in hand. Vrea’s hands were empty, but raised.

Lu was close enough to make out individual faces when one Hana rider made a break toward the Yunians.

All at once the air crackled and flared between Vrea’s outstretched hands and the soldiers. A lance of light—no, lightning— shot from her palms.

It struck the horse full in the chest, and Lu saw its skeleton, radiating white-hot from the inside out. The shock traveled up into its rider. Man and beast flew back with the force of it, like they were nothing more than dolls.

The horse landed hard and stayed down, a heap of blackened flesh, but the soldier screamed. His helmet fell, and Lu saw the charred dome of his head, then the white of his skull as his burned scalp sloughed away.

“What was that?” Nasan demanded.

Lu shook her head numbly. She understood now where the smell of burned flesh had come from.

The horses were stamping and rearing, but Lu could see the soldiers trying to drive them back into formation. There was no panic in the ranks. Military discipline was one thing. These men did not have the air of soldiers riding to their deaths; they believed they could win against this unnatural terror.

They knew something she did not.

“Princess Lu!”

She tore her eyes from the Hana. The Yunian princes had noticed their presence.

Jin started toward her. “Princess, you shouldn’t—”

“Get back to the temple!” Shen shouted.

“I can’t do that,” she called.

What are the Hana waiting for? Nok’s voice sounded in her head. They’re just standing there.

“Would you want to be next to get roasted like a goat?” Nasan retorted, but her voice shook.

“No, it’s not that,” Lu said. “Nok’s right. They should either charge or retreat and regroup. They’re . . .”

The Hana parted ranks. Lu recognized the horse before she saw the rider: a white stallion, armored in finely crafted plates of blue and silver. Upon its back sat her cousin, lean and tall and proud. His sword was drawn. Close beside him rode Brother, small and out of place.

Then came a third horse, also white. And its rider—

“Min!” Lu yelled, but her voice was lost to the fray. Her sister reined up, then dismounted clumsily, staggering forward on bowed legs.

Her sister, and yet, not.

Min’s normally sweet, round face was gaunt, webs of delicate veins stark beneath thin, gray skin. Her long black hair had fallen from its upsweep, hanging in dusty hanks like moss off a tree. She was hunched, as though someone had kicked her in the belly, but she lurched inexorably toward Vrea.

“Min, what are you doing?” Lu shouted. “Get back!”

The priestess considered Min as she approached, like a cat sizing up a wounded mouse. She raised her hands.

Lu lunged forward. “No! Don’t hurt her! She’s only a—”

Lightning shot from Vrea’s palms. Min threw out her own hands in helpless defense—and caught the lightning in her grasp.

Vrea’s face tightened. She thrust forward harder, but the lightning only built against Min’s palms, a spitting, crackling ball, burning so brightly Lu was forced to squint.

“Impressive,” Vrea called, her voice melodic and lilting, though ragged at the edges. “What Yunian shamaness taught you our ways?”

“Don’t talk to her, Min!” Set barked. He leaned forward in his saddle, greedy gray eyes flashing white from the glow of the lightning.

“I heard your father killed all our shamanesses,” Vrea continued. “Those poor girls. Those hostages your kind promised to protect.”

“She’s trying to distract you!” Set snarled.

Min did not reply, but instead thrust forward hard with the whole of her little body, screaming with the effort. She sounded like a wild animal. The ball of lightning shot back at Vrea and shattered against the priestess’s hands in an explosion of white sparks. A boom like thunder threw them all to the ground.

Lu staggered to her feet, ears ringing again. She picked up her fallen sword. The air was coarse with fine gray dust. She coughed, eyes stinging with grit and tears.

Where Vrea had stood there was now a smoking, blasted-out crater. Deep, crooked cracks emanated from it. The priestess herself had landed some distance away, thrown by the impact, but as Lu watched she climbed to her feet with little more than a tremble in her arms. She dusted off her robes with a misplaced air of quiet dignity.

Lu stepped forward to join Shen and Jin in flanking her, but Nok blocked her path.

Wait, he said. Look!

One of the cracks emanating from the blast site widened. As they watched, a slab of paving stone the size of a man’s torso broke free and tumbled down into the crevice—leaving in its place a patch of empty, endless sky.

Lu’s breath caught in her throat. She could see the stone, still in free fall miles below, until at last it was swallowed by distance and the ether.