The very moment my sword met the man’s, the second one got behind me and slashed. I turned just in time to twist away from the sharp edge of the sword, but it still cut across my armor, slicing a gash halfway through the thick leather. I flicked my wrist, wrapping him in static and pulling him forward as I sidestepped out of the way. It impaled him on his ally’s weapon, and as the first soldier struggled to pull his sword free, I grabbed his arm with a current of sparks.
The fight around me was nearly over too, and as Ava and Rhien helped each other to subdue the last soldier, I met the prince’s gaze. His gray eyes were wide, and there was a smile at one corner of his mouth. “Nicely done!” he praised, casting an amused glance at the man I’d shocked.
I looked down at the slash across my chest. “Not nice enough…”
He turned that interested look on Ava. “Do you have magic too? Like your father?”
“He’s not—” Ava began to say, but stopped and let out an almost irritated sigh. “I don’t.” That wasn’t entirely true since she could turn into a crow, but it didn’t look like she wanted to explain. “Take us to the dungeon.”
The prince led the way out the door. We backtracked down the stairs, but instead of heading along the corridor to the main entrance hall that we’d come from in the first place, we exited the castle out the side entrance.
“The door’s just there,” Destrian said, pointing at a wooden door halfway between where we’d exited and the main entrance.
“Cut them off!” came a shout from the buildings around the yard, and a group of soldiers came sprinting out from between them. There was no way we could beat them there, and I counted as they headed to block our path to the dungeon. Twenty-five. “Go warn the king!” the leader yelled at one of them, who picked up speed.
I glanced from the sprinting soldier to the door of the dungeon with indecision. If he got there before us and told Hazlitt we were coming, anything could happen. Hazlitt may kill the king and queen of Cornwall if he hadn’t already. He may escape before we could reach him. He may come out to fight, and I wasn’t sure we could handle him while battling other troops too because I didn’t yet know what his magic was like.
“Go!” Ava said, catching my hesitation and probably thinking the same things I was.
I looked from her to the door. “Are you sure?”
“We’ve got this,” Rhien agreed. I glanced at the prince, who peered down at his unarmored body and grumbled a reluctant concurrence.
Before I could leave, Ava grabbed the neck of my armor, pulling me down so she could press an urgent kiss to my lips. “Please be careful,” she begged, letting me go. “We’re right behind you.”
I nodded and sheathed my sword, immediately spark jumping beyond the collecting blockade of soldiers and landing behind the man who’d just reached the door. I grabbed him with a current and didn’t wait for him to collapse, or for any of the other troops to turn and catch me. I squeezed through the door and closed it behind me.
Once inside, I stood at the top of the descending stairs for a long moment to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. There were torches on the wall every twenty feet or so, but it wasn’t nearly enough to see everything in the stony passageway. At least there was no sign of any enemy soldiers yet, and I took my first step down. I walked as silently as possible, not wanting my presence to be known and trying to convince myself that I wasn’t afraid.
But my pulse was picking up with every step I took farther underground. I could feel my mouth going dry with nervousness as an icy clump formed at the pit of my stomach. My palms were itching with static, a defensive current coursing just beneath the surface of my skin. Every time the flicker of a torch cast a long shadow on the wall, my heart skipped, but I wouldn’t stop. I could hear voices, and was almost close enough now to make them out. I could see the bottom of the stairs.
A few more steps and I was there, and I hesitated for a moment before descending the rest of the way. The dungeon was a large, open space, lined along the outside with cells. There was a heavy metal gate ten feet in front of the bottom of the stairs, which spanned from one side of the dungeon to the other, and might have been impenetrable if the barred door at the center of it wasn’t wide open. There were two armored soldiers just inside this door, standing on either side of it, but they weren’t facing me. They were facing the rest of the dungeon. Facing Hazlitt.
“Sign it!” Hazlitt yelled at one of the two people he’d chained to the far wall. Even from here, I knew it was the king and queen, and even though they were both vulnerable—wrists shackled to the wall above their heads—the king stared defiantly at Hazlitt. “If you care at all about your citizens, you’ll sign this contract,” Hazlitt growled. “You follow, and the rest of your regions will follow. Sign it!”
I crept forward silently as Cornwall’s king narrowed his eyes. “My regions’ armies will be here by nightfall to take back this castle. They’ll never follow you.”
“Perhaps I’ll fetch your son,” Hazlitt threatened. “How much torture could he stand before one of you gives in?” At that, the king made a frightened but considering glance at the parchment Hazlitt was holding.
I’d reached the gate, and I stepped through the door at the same time as I grabbed each of the guards’ exposed necks. The sparks shot through their bodies, and their armor made a loud clamor as they both collapsed to the stone floor. Hazlitt wheeled around, eyes fixing on me with surprise. In the moment it took me to see what he was equipped with—a sword and dagger at his waist—he collected himself, his surprise fading into the smug grin he always wore. Instead of saying anything to me, he simply pulled his sword and turned back to the king to continue his threats.
“HAZLITT!” I roared, my voice echoing off the cold walls of the dungeon.
Hazlitt froze, standing with his back to me for a long few seconds. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do, and I wasn’t sure I could get there in time if he attacked the royals. But just when I thought he was going to ignore me again, he spun around, throwing one arm toward me as he did. The motion sent a massive dark orb shooting across the length of the dungeon. It reached me almost faster than I could react, but I managed to throw my hands up, catching the dark magic with my own and deflecting it sideways into the wall.
“Impressive,” Hazlitt mused, taking a step forward. I drew my sword, and he stopped his progress as his lips curled. “Tell me how you got this magic. I know you didn’t have it when we first met.”
“You know nothing,” I snarled.
He hummed in consideration, staring at me for a long moment before musing, “Dragonkin.” My eyes widened, and he smiled even bigger. “You’re even more foolish than I thought if you believe I’ve never heard of Dragonkin. I didn’t recognize it at first. Not until I realized who you really were, who your father was. Not until I came to you in Ava’s body and buried that dagger in your chest, and saw Nilan Thaon’s dragon hanging around your neck.” Hazlitt’s eyes dropped from my neck to my chest, as though searching for the pendant that was beneath my armor. “That’s the source, isn’t it?” He met my gaze again, his lips thinning with frustration. “I knew when I met your father that there had to be a source. Magic like that… magic that great isn’t born. It’s made. Your abilities are proof.” I simply scowled at him, waiting for the moment he tried to catch me off guard and hurl more magic at me. “Tell me where you got it!”
“If you don’t know where I got it,” I said, refusing to look away from his intense stare, “then you don’t know as much about Dragonkin as you think you do.”
He inhaled a raging breath as he took another stomp forward, but he stopped himself, rotating the handle of the sword in his grip. “Give me the necklace!”