Cursing, I shoved the sword deep into the man’s chest, ending his life before he hit the floor. I tore my sword free and spun, scanning the horror the Great Hall had become.
Bodies lay scattered about, a sea of crimson fabric and bright, fresh red among the crushed roses and fallen wolven masks. Limbs had been hacked off. Skulls crushed. Chests impaled with arrows. Faces disfigured. People whimpered. Cried out. The Great Hall looked like a battlefield. I turned, spotting a blonde on the floor. Glass jutted from her eye. I knew her. Dafina.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
I looked at the dais, to where I’d left the Duke. Nothing but ash and a black smear against stone remained of him now.
I had to find Poppy.
She wasn’t in here, nor were Tawny or Vikter, but I knew she wouldn’t be safe even if she had made it to her chambers. The moment this shit started, she would’ve been in the thick of things. The only benefit was that no one would know who she was, which was good. Because if the Descenters got their hands on her?
Her blood would be spilled.
Spinning around, I left the Hall. Heart pounding, I dragged the back of my hand over my cheek, wiping away the blood splatter.
Fury built with each step, every mortal I passed that lay dead or dying, some attendees and others Descenters. It was never supposed to get this far. None of this should have happened.
I entered the foyer. There were bodies there, too. Someone whimpered. My head cut to the side. A Descenter was crouched in the corner, holding a small blade too large for his hand. A kid. He was just a fucking kid. I didn’t recruit children.
Seething, I turned at the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps.
Lieutenant Smyth strode into the circular chamber, his sword out and dripping blood. Of course, that motherfucker was still alive.
“Do you know where the Maiden is?” I demanded.
He sent me a look as he headed straight for the kid. “She’s secure with the Duchess. No thanks to you, it seems.” He sneered, turning his attention to the boy. I started to leave. “Get up.”
The kid didn’t move.
“Get up and face the sword, you little shit.” Spittle flew from Smyth’s mouth.
A whimper came from behind the mask. He dropped the knife. I glanced at the main hall, my grip tightening on my sword. I didn’t have time for this shit. I needed to get to Poppy.
“Too late for that.” Smyth bent, grabbing a bony arm. He hauled the kid to his feet and shoved him against the wall.
Fuck.
“Rhain awaits.” Smyth drew back his sword. “You piece of—”
Snapping forward, I thrust my sword into Smyth’s back.
Smyth jerked free, stumbling to the side, his sword slipping from his hand as he looked down at the jagged tear in the chest of his tunic. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth as he lifted his head.
“Fuck, that felt good,” I said.
“Bastard,” Smyth rasped, falling back against the wall.
“Yeah, well, you’re fucking annoying.” I watched him slide to the floor, the light going out of his eyes. “And now you’re dead. Whatever.”
The kid stood frozen.
“You need to get the hell out of here.” I approached him, grabbing the side of the mask. I broke the strap, baring his face. A jolt of surprise went through me. It wasn’t a boy. It was a girl. The one I’d seen outside the meatpacking warehouse the day Kieran had made a new friend out of Lord Devries. Fucking gods. I leaned down, catching her wide and terrified eyes. I tossed the mask aside. It landed at the base of the statue of Penellaphe and shattered. The child flinched. “Go now.”
The little thing stared at me for a moment longer and then spun, taking off as fast as her twig-thin legs and bare feet could carry her.
“Gods,” I spat. I would need to have a really long chat with Mac.
I left the foyer, picking up speed as I hit the hall. Every few feet or so, there were fallen guards and Descenters. I neared the end of the corridor, the sound of a sword clanging off another echoing. Silence followed.
Then I heard Poppy scream. “No!”
The hairs rose all over my body as I took off, moving faster than a mortal eye could track. I saw that one door of a greeting room was open. A wounded Descenter stood at the threshold. Beyond him, I saw Vikter’s familiar weathered face, but it wasn’t right. I could tell that even as I raced forward, vaulting over a settee. The sun-warmed skin was leached of all color.
Several other guards flooded in, but I crossed the space as the bloodied Descenter jerked a sword back, tearing it free of—
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Slowing, I arced the sword high, cleaving the Descenter’s head from his body. I couldn’t even say who else was in the chamber.
I only saw what I’d brought upon Poppy, not by my hand but by my actions.
She was on her knees beside Vikter, her hands pressed against his chest. Blood pumped between her fingers as Vikter’s chest rose too fast, his breaths too shallow. That wound. All that blood. My lips parted as I lowered my sword. This was not what I’d planned.
“No,” Poppy said, and the horror in that one word. The sorrow…
My eyes closed as pressure clamped down on my chest. I didn’t want this.
“No. No. No,” Poppy repeated, and I opened my eyes. “No. Gods, no. Please. You’re okay. Please—”
“I’m sorry,” Vikter rasped, lifting a trembling hand and folding it over hers.
“What?” she cried. “You can’t be sorry. You’re going to be okay. Hawke.” Her wide gaze swung to mine. “You have to help him.”
I knelt at Vikter’s side, placing a hand just below his shoulder. I felt what I already knew. The crackling and bubbling in his chest. I said her name quietly.
“Help him,” she demanded. “Please! Go get someone. Do something!”
Gods, there was nothing I could do. If I could, I would have. Just to stop the panic and remove the horror from her voice. It didn’t matter that I’d basically threatened his life earlier. Or that this was—fuck, this was inevitable. None of that mattered.
Because Poppy…
She was breaking.
“No. No.” She closed her eyes, shaking her head in denial.
“Poppy,” Vikter wheezed. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth. “Look at me.”
She shuddered, lips pressed together, but she was, damn, she was strong. Her eyes opened.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “For…not…protecting you.”
She tipped toward him. “You have protected me. You still will.”
“I…didn’t.” He blinked rapidly, lifting his gaze.
I followed it to where Lord Mazeen stood. The dark-haired Ascended looked amused and like he hadn’t lifted a hand to defend a single person tonight. And he could have. Any of the vampry could have. My nostrils flared as I made a mental note to deal with that fucker later tonight.
“I…failed you…as a man,” Vikter told her. “Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive you for,” she swore. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Please,” Vikter rasped.
“I forgive you.” Poppy pressed her forehead to his, and fuck, I wanted to stop this. “I forgive you. I do. I forgive you.”