Chapter 109

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It was like a dam had broken. All at once, the reinforcements Winter brought flooded into the courtyard, sprinting toward the palace, roaring and gripping their weapons.

The courtyard in front of the palace was already a graveyard, though there were still people struggling to go on fighting. A battalion of thaumaturges and countless wolf soldiers wasted no time launching themselves at the new arrivals, and those brave war cries from the front lines were quickly turned into screams. There were more coming still, pouring out of the tunnels and into the streets, and Winter recognized many of her own soldiers trying to rip the mutants away from their allies. Confusion reigned. Thaumaturge-controlled civilians turned into enemies, and it was sometimes impossible to tell which of the wolf soldiers were on our side.

Claws ripping open a person's chest.

A bullet tearing through the side of a woman's face.

A spear impaling a man's abdomen.

Howls of pain and victory, indistinguishable. The tangy smell of blood. Still the people came and came and came. The people Winter had brought there.

I locked eyes with Isaac. "Ready?" I breathed.

Bottle green was replaced with crimson determination. "Ready."

Isaac and I took off, leaving the eye of the hurricane and braving the storm, rushing into the sea of chaos.

I lost count of how many people I shot through the head. All I knew was that the bodies kept coming and coming and falling and falling.

With a deafening crack, I whammed the butt of my gun into a man's jaw, sending him spiraling towards Isaac. A moment later, his throat was torn out.

It continued on like this for I wasn't sure how long. Isaac and I never lost our stamina, even as the waves of enemies surrounded us. We stood in the center of it all, fighting together as one. Brother and sister, together again.

Then, a surprising cheer called our attention toward the main doors of the palace and I saw the thaumaturges fleeing back inside. Many had fallen and were lying dead or dying on the palace stairs. They were overwhelmed. There were too many people now for the queen's minions to hold their own, just as Cinder had hoped.

Spurred on by their victory, the people rushed the palace, streaming in through the enormous doors, chasing the thaumaturges.

I couldn't help the grin that overtook my face. I turned to Isaac, ready to celebrate this win, but my smile dropped when I looked over his shoulder.

Out in the main street were Jacin and Winter, the latter of whom pressed behind the former.

In front of them stood Aimery in a bloodstained thaumaturge coat.

"Help the others," I commanded Isaac in a scarily calm voice, my eyes not leaving the scene.

"I'm not leaving—"

"Now."

Out of the corner of my eye I witnessed Isaac's fingers twitch and his lips pull back in a grimace, but he scampered away a moment later.

Gun drawn, I sped across the courtyard and ducked behind a parked hovercar, trying to assess how I was going to attack the situation, but it was nearly impossible. When I looked at that man all I saw was red.

I wanted him to burn.

I crept closer.

"I will have you," Aimery was saying to Winter. "If not as a wife or a willing mistress, then as a possession to be displayed in a pretty bejeweled case." His eyes took on a hint of madness. "I have waited too many years to let you go now."

Jacin's back was to Winter, his shoulders knotted. A line of blood curled down his elbow and dripped along his wrist. Splattered to the ground below. He was powerless to do anything but stand there.

Aimery looked pleased as he focused again on Jacin. "I have been waiting for this since you were brought before the court. I should have watched you bleed on the throne room floor that day."

"That must have been such a disappointment for you," said Jacin.

"It was," agreed Aimery, "but I do think I will enjoy this moment even more." His cheek twitched. "How shall it be done? By my hand? By your own?" His eyes glistened. "By hers? Ah—how inconsolable she would be then, to be the instrument of her own beloved's death. Perhaps I will have her bash in your skull with a rock. Perhaps I will have her choke you with her pretty fingers."

Winter convulsed.

I inched farther along.

"I rather like that idea," Aimery mused.

I crept closer. My baby steps turned into a walk, which turned into a run, which turned into a sprint with me aiming my gun at that monster's head—

All at once, it stopped.

I was frozen.

Aimery laughed, turning so I could see his disgusting face. "I am the queen's own thaumaturge!" Aimery yelled, eyes blazing as he snarled at my paralyzed figure. "You think I cannot feel you sneaking up on me? You think I cannot handle one pathetic, broken girl?" A crazed smile replaced his anger within a second. "Perhaps...when this is all over...I shall take you back and break you again."

He took a step forward and his smile faded. He did not move again. He seemed almost...stuck.

A glance at Winter revealed her brow drawn in concentration, sweat sliding down her forehead.

Her gift. Winter was using her gift.

Aimery's hold over me snapped, like a rubber band breaking when pulled too tight.

In two steps I was before him and slammed the butt of my gun into the side of his face. Under Winter's control, he was unable to do anything else besides fall to the floor.

Moments after his body hit the pavement, I bent over him and grabbed his face, digging my fingers into his flesh like he had once done to me.

"Do you see," I growled, "how utterly defeated you are? How you cannot move a single muscle? Not without the will of someone else allowing it?"

I tightened my grip on his chin. "This is how it felt when you tied me to that chair and tortured me over and over and over again. Would you like me to do the same to you?"

My nails were cutting into his skin. His blood was slick between my fingers. "Maybe I should be the one to stick needles beneath your fingernails. Or cut every inch of skin that shows. Or slap you until your cheek bleeds or gouge out your eyes so that you won't be able to see what I do to you next.

"Or maybe," I snarled, "I should tie you to a bed of hot coals and leave you there until your skin blisters and you're driven mad from the agony."

Then the sound of Winter crying filled my ears. A sound so mournful and heart wrenching that it snapped me out of whatever frenzy my mind had been sent into.

I took a deep breath. "But I won't do any of that," I continued, "because I'm not like you."

I leaned forward until our foreheads were nearly touching. "You think you broke me, and yet here I am, fighting as I always have."

I released his face, and his head smacked against the pavement.

"Unlike you, I am merciful." I drew my gun and aimed it at his forehead. "And because I am merciful, I will simply kill you instead."

He had the decency to look terrified.

I took a long look at the man laying below me. The man who had done so much wrong—to me, to Isaac, to Winter. To the world. Men like him did not belong here.

"Soon you will be face to face with whatever saw fit to let you exist in this universe, and you will have to justify the space you've filled." I lowered my voice. Cocked the gun. "So pick a god and pray to it. I suspect it won't be as merciful as I."

Our gazes locked. His eyes widened.

I pulled the trigger. 

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