The room erupted into chaos.
Guests screamed as they tried to scramble to safety, colliding with Silas’s guards as they rushed the dancers. But the young women only picked up the weapons of their victims and slaughtered the soldiers with ease.
“Never mind them—get her!” Silas shrieked, and two soldiers charged toward the table, naked blades in hand and their eyes on Lara. Who was unarmed.
Aren jerked upright, but his wrists and ankles were bound to the table, rendering him helpless to do anything but watch as the soldiers moved in for the kill.
But Lara didn’t need his help. Or anyone else’s.
Snatching up a glass, she threw it in one guard’s face, using the distraction to kick him in the wrist, sending his blade flying.
The other guard swung his weapon, but she leapt, the blade whistling under her, one leg striking out and catching the man in the face. He fell back, clutching a shattered nose.
The first guard recovered, snatching hold of her ankles. Before he could jerk her legs out from under her, Lara dived onto him, both of them falling out of sight behind the table.
Aren heard the snap of a breaking neck, then Lara appeared, sword in hand. With a ruthless slice, she cut the throat of the guard with the broken nose, then whirled to engage another, parrying the large man’s blows, her shoulders shuddering from the impact of the weapons.
Once, twice, she blocked his blows, but on the third, the force knocked the sword from her hand.
“No!” Aren tried to lunge forward, fighting against his restraints, but the table barely shifted.
With a guttural roar, the man swung at her neck.
Lara ducked under the blow while catching hold of a broken wine glass, which she stabbed into his shoulder as she rotated, heel flying out to shatter the man’s kneecap.
“I suppose we should take care of those chains, shouldn’t we.” Coralyn rose from where she’d sat serenely watching the carnage. Extracting a key, she unlocked the manacles on Aren’s wrists before bending to do the same to his ankles. From across the room, shielded by eight of his guards, Silas saw her do it.
“Kill him!” the king shouted. “Kill the Ithicanian!”
A guard broke away, running in Aren’s direction, but Aren whipped one of his chains, the links wrapping around the man’s sword. A hard jerk sent the blade flying. The man stumbled, reaching for another weapon, but Coralyn freed Aren’s ankles in time for him to lunge, tackling the soldier to the ground.
They grappled, rolling between the legs of panicked guests. The man pulled a knife, but Aren blocked the blow, catching hold of the man’s wrist. Grinding his teeth with effort, he slowly forced the blade down, the man screaming, then choking as it pierced his throat.
Clambering to his feet, Aren punched a guard in the face, then used the knife to gut another, his ears filling with the sound of hammering.
The doors.
They were jammed shut.
Just as he requested they’d be in the plan he gave to Coralyn. Who’d subsequently given it to Lara, which meant he’d been unwittingly working with his wife this entire time. But now was not the time to dwell on how he’d been manipulated.
Whirling, Aren searched the chaos for Zarrah, finding the Valcottan general fighting, armed with a broken piece of a chair. She caved in the head of one man, about to move on another when Aren caught hold of her, barely avoiding being cracked in the skull as she switched targets.
“All this is for nothing if you get killed,” he hissed, dragging her toward one of the curtains and shoving her behind it.
Leave. A voice whispered inside his head. The rest of the plan is yours—you don’t need them. All that matters is getting Zarrah out.
But instead of listening, he searched for Lara’s familiar form, finding her fighting two soldiers, a sword in one hand and a knife in the other.
The men were skilled. Head and shoulders taller than her. But the speed with which she moved . . .
He’d never seen her fight, only seen the results she’d left behind on Serrith. But now . . . Now he understood why the body count had been so high.
Aren stared, captivated, as Lara dodged and ducked. She twisted around a guard right as his comrade swung his sword, the blade sinking deep into the man’s chest even as Lara flitted forward to gut the other, both men falling to the ground at her feet.
She turned, eyes widening. In one swift motion, she moved, the knife in her hand flying past Aren’s ear. Twisting, he found a soldier behind him, sword lifted to strike even as he toppled backward, Lara’s knife embedded in his left eye.
“You aren’t going to escape.” Silas’s voice cut through the din.
The King of Maridrina was backed into a corner, the shield of soldiers standing in front of him showing no interest in attacking the young women who’d slaughtered their comrades.
“I knew you would come.” Silas’s laughter was wild. “This trap was for you, and you fell for it. All the better that you brought your sisters with you.”
“It’s not a very good trap.” Lara reached down to slit the throat of the soldier gasping at her feet. “You’re losing your touch.”
Silas’s grin was murderous. “There is no way out. Serin trained you—do you think he hasn’t guessed every possible move you might make? He knows exactly how you think!”
“I’m counting on it.” Lara flung the knife in her hand at Silas’s head.
One of his soldiers threw himself in the way, the blade striking him with a meaty thunk, but Lara was already across the room, sword raised, cutting down another.
Then a loud crack split the air. Aren’s eyes jerked to the main door. A large split had formed in the wood, the soldiers on the other side trying to force their way through. They had minutes to escape.
Maybe less.
He saw Lara turn to the door. Watched her lips form an angry curse, and then she was retreating, her sisters following suit, all of them so drenched with blood and gore that they looked more demon than woman.
“You need to come with us, Auntie,” Lara said, pulling on Coralyn’s arm, but the old woman only shook her head, moving to stand between them and Silas’s guards.
“Even if I wasn’t too old to run, I’d never abandon my family.” Then she raised her voice. “Did you think we’d let you get away with it, Silas? Let you get away with stealing our children? With murdering our children? Did you think there wouldn’t be a price to pay for your greed?”
“I’m going to gut you for this, you old bitch!”
“By all means, Silas, please do!” Coralyn laughed. “It will entertain me in the afterlife to watch how well you sleep knowing that every wife you have and every wife you ever take will be watching and waiting for a moment to take revenge for what you’ve done. The harem protects its own, and you’ve proven yourself our enemy. I think you’ll not drop those trousers of yours so easily knowing that all the pretty mouths you surround yourself with have teeth. So by all means, Silas. Martyr me. All it means is that I’ll have an exceptional vantage point to watch you pay for your crimes.”
The split in the main door widened. They only had seconds.
“We have to go,” said one of Lara’s sisters. “There’s no more time.”
Aren caught hold of Coralyn’s arm, but, knowing what sort of woman she was, he didn’t ask her to run. “Thank you.”