Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 136009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard the propaganda before.” Kerrigan rolled her eyes. “A name?” She glanced up at Fordham. He had the two he’d been engaging with in a similar position, though held with nothing but his shadows. He looked like a dark god as the shadows swept over him. “You get anything from them?”
“I recognize them,” Fordham said. “They’re Laurent dogs.”
“As I figured.”
“Your idea?” he asked.
“We need to make an appearance. Can you jump?”
Fordham’s smile was deadly. “Together.”
Then he grasped her arm, and they all disappeared at once.
Kerrigan landed in the center of the ballroom they had just vacated, four assassins cowering under heavy pressure before her and Fordham. Shadows crawled over Fordham, a wave of black smoke announcing their entrance.
Screams went up at their unorthodox entrance. Attendees ran from the sight of him at full power. They should have been afraid of Kerrigan in that moment, for she was barely holding on by a thread. She wanted to kill Barron Laurent for sending assassins to ambush them. He must have wagered that they’d either complete their mission or Fordham and Kerrigan would run away with their tails between their legs. He clearly didn’t know her well or that she had a flair for the dramatic.
“Laurent!” Fordham roared.
Barron stood with Viviana. The room cleared a circle around them as if whatever they’d done were infectious.
“Ollivier,” he said irreverently.
A gasp went up at the disrespect. Calling the king by his last name and not his title was treason enough without whatever else he was about to say.
“You let your dogs off their leashes,” Fordham said, throwing the assassins toward Barron. Kerrigan kicked the other two. They cowered and one broke into sobs at the sight of Barron. “Unlike you, I won’t kill them for following your orders. But if I see them again, I assure you I will not be as merciful.”
Barron arched an eyebrow. For a second, Kerrigan thought that he was going to deny the accusation.
But all he did was lift two fingers into the air. A crackle sounded all around them, and then with a sharp cut sideways, he slit the throats of all four assassins with a single bolt of lightning. The power, the control, the destruction—it was utterly terrifying. His face never changed as the blood ran from the throats of his men.
He lifted a shoulder and said, “I am not merciful.”
Kerrigan looked down at the dying assassins with more empathy than she’d thought she’d have for four people who had just tried to kill her. But Barron was a monster and a sadist. They didn’t deserve his authority.
They deserved better. If this was what the alternative was, the entire world needed empathetic leaders. And Kerrigan was more certain than ever that she would be the one to make that happen.
Chapter Seventeen
The Spirit
Kerrigan was still shaky when she made it up to the aerie. She’d had to toss the dress and heeled shoes she wore for the night. Between wine and blood, they were never going to be clean again.
Fordham hadn’t said a word since he’d issued his threat to Barron. She could see he was still withdrawn about what was to come with the coronation. Barron had been so blatant. Kerrigan wanted to call him a traitor and kill him for treason, but she knew it wasn’t that easy. They needed the other houses against the Society, as much as she hated that that continued to be their excuse. Killing Barron at the coronation would be the only way to keep all the houses from going to war with one another.
“What took you so long?” Tieran asked into her mind as she approached him.
“Assassins.”
“You seem in one piece.”
“Four assassins isn’t enough to take us down,” Kerrigan quipped.
Fordham sighed at the words and put his hand to Netta’s side. “Let’s put it behind us for now.”
Kerrigan wanted to console him, but she knew him well enough to know he needed his space. She dropped the bag she’d collected, removed a piece of chalk, and made a circle at the center of the aerie. Then she took out candles and put them around the circle, instructing Fordham to sit inside the circle with her. She lit the candles with a flick of her wrist.
“This will keep any spirits from approaching us while we’re on the plane,” Kerrigan explained. “It’s safer, especially on nights when the spirit is closer to the surface.”
“Like tonight.”
“Yes.” Kerrigan closed her eyes and breathed in and out slowly. “There are five arts of spirit magic—spirit plane, dreamwalking, visions, illusions, and energy magic. Each one is increasingly more difficult to the point where I have never consciously used my energy magic.”
“I remember you unconsciously using it,” Fordham said.
So did she. Twice now, she’d been in a life-or-death situation and killed everyone around her in an energy blast that saved her life. She didn’t particularly want to do that again without some precision.