Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 127026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
But apparently not. Roake and Bastian were both from Elsiande. Perhaps those ties would always be stronger than what they had endured together.
“Roake is a Red Mask,” she said in disbelief as she clashed with another guardsman.
“Fuck,” Fordham growled.
Kerrigan couldn’t agree more.
She was reduced to this one moment as more and more Guard fell in to fight them. They were joined by Society members. But the entire arena was a mess. She could hear the screams of terror all around them. Black, red, and white smoke choked the air. More magical artifacts were being used than Kerrigan had thought existed in the vault. Which made her think once again that someone—Bastian—had discovered how to make more.
If the smoke wasn’t bad enough, blood ran like rivers down the stairs of the stands, soaking into the sand in the arena. Her vision returned to her then. The blood running freely, choking the ground. Was this what that vision had warned her about? She had been so wrapped up in saving Fordham that she hadn’t thought too much on what she had seen. It had seemed so distant compared to his fate.
Now, she was reaping the consequences. Cleora’s words came back to her—that even those who were skilled in interpreting visions still didn’t always know what they were doing and trying to stop it from happening did nothing but cause them despair. And still … she felt that despair roll over her heart.
She could have stopped this.
It was irrational, but she couldn’t keep from thinking it.
Kerrigan pushed through another round of roses. She blasted the first guard with fire, and the second, she swirled her air into a tornado, taking him off of his feet and throwing him a dozen yards across the arena.
She didn’t look back as she, Fordham, Wynter, and Audria cut a path toward Bastian. He was still crowing to his crowd, amping them up as they committed atrocities beyond anything she’d thought possible. The riots the Red Masks had organized, killing humans and half-Fae six years ago, was terrible, but it was but a fraction of what was happening tonight. He had strategically picked this night when all the Society members would be in attendance along with a large portion of the Kinkadian populace.
The night the world ran red.
But now that she had a clear line of sight, she saw that Helly had finally escaped the confines of the dragon trap. Hydie and Selwyn were both knocked out from whatever the magic was. Durban beat at the shield to try to get out. Kerrigan couldn’t decide if that was because he wanted in on the bloodshed or to stop it.
Nor did she know how Helly had managed to escape. But she strode with single-minded purpose in Bastian’s direction.
“You won’t get away with this!” Helly cried, using her magic to amplify her voice for all to hear.
Bastian just smiled. “Ah, Hellina, you have done your duty to stop us these last few years, have you not? And you almost had us last night.”
“I will have you now. This is the end for you, Bastian.”
“But I’m just getting started. We all are.”
“If you are so certain in your abilities, your right to rule like this, then come here. Fight me.”
“No,” Kerrigan whispered.
She wanted to rush forward to defend Helly. Helly was formidable, but Kerrigan didn’t know what tricks Bastian had up his sleeve. They both knew he could jump like Fordham and Wynter. He hadn’t walked into this fight casually. He’d plotted it out over years and made it intentional in every aspect. Up until the moment he could put the mask on before the entire world and claim his right as the head of council and the Father.
But Bastian just laughed and obliged. One second, he was on the podium, and the next, he was in the arena before Helly.
To her credit, Helly didn’t look surprised. Her shields were up. Her magic was at the ready. Nearly six hundred years of training.
Bastian leaned in with the first attack. A jet of fire so hot that it was white. Helly met it with water, and the air grew thick with steam as it evaporated in midair.
“Why have you done this?” Helly demanded as she strained to hold the deluge against him.
“You know well why,” Bastian said, perfectly at ease.
“You have long fought for people in need. You joined the Society because of the need for more healers in the south, for more magic there. You wanted to break the bonds of generations of oppressed magic. We’ve worked hand in hand to try to gain more support. It makes no sense, what you are doing, Bastian.”
He avoided her next assault and blasted her backward with a jet of air. She leaned into the air, letting herself dance with it as the Fae air masters did. She came down to one knee with a steady look on her face as she rocked the ground under his feet.