"Teagan."
The word was ripped from Seraena's throat. She was a blur of motion, jumping over tables, sending dishes clattering across the floor. But she was too late. She knew she was too late. There was no way she'd reach them in time; Septimus's knife was already flashing, and she was a dozen metres away.
Memories chased each other through her mind. Teagan making cinnamon swirls, her tongue poking out in concentration; Teagan chasing a terrified lizard through the garden; Teagan soaring on Kyllini's back, her grin threatening to split her face in half.
She was going to lose her. Just like she lost Mack and Alfie.
Something in her heart cracked open.
Seraena lunged forward. There was a blur of movement up ahead, followed by a cry of pain. And blood, Seraena thought, her heart lurching; she could see the red blood flooding on to the tile even from here.
No. No.
She closed the remaining distance. Septimus was bent forward, a hand pressed to his stomach. But Teagan. Where was Teagan? She couldn't see a body on the floor, couldn't catch sight of blonde plaits through the crowd—
"Seraena!" a voice called.
She turned.
Teagan hurtled towards here. Her small face was white, and she was holding a bloody dagger. Crushing relief filled Seraena, so hard and fast that tears sprung to her eyes. She held out her arms and Teagan collided with her, burrowing into her chest.
"It's okay," Seraena murmured, stroking her hair. "I've got you. You're safe now."
Teagan trembled. "I had to... I..."
"I know." Seraena kissed the top of her hair. "You were only defending yourself, okay?
"Did I...?" Teagan's voice broke. "Did I kill him?"
Seraena looked up. Septimus lay on his back, his glassy eyes facing up towards the ceiling. His chest wasn't moving.
"No," Seraena lied. "He'll be okay."
"Raena!" Kane cried.
He appeared out of the din. A bruise swelled on his cheekbone, and his shirt was torn at the shoulder. All around them, the wet sound of metal striking flesh filled the room; courtiers screamed, crawling towards the exits. Seraena watched — frozen — as someone put a sword through a familiar-looking older man's back. Councillors, she realized numbly; they were attacking her council members.
The bastards were trying to overthrow her court.
"Stars," Kane breathed. "Are you both alright?"
He gripped their shoulders, inspecting them for damage. Seraena nudged Teagan towards him. "Find Hellart. Get her out of here."
Kane's face hardened. "I'm not leaving you."
"And I'm not asking," Seraena said.
Their eyes met, a fierce clash of amber and blue. Kane relented first, placing a hand on Teagan's shoulder. "I'll come back."
"Good," Seraena said. "You'll miss out on all the fun, otherwise."
Kane cupped her face. "I love you."
Seraena swallowed past a lump. She tried to memorize his mouth. His freckles. The way one eyebrow was slightly thicker than the other. "I love you, too." She knelt down, taking Teagan's face into her hands. "Be brave, drakaina. You're stronger than you think."
Teagan nodded, her face white and pinched.
They disappeared into the crowd. Seraena drew her sword, her eyes fixed on the balcony doors. Any minute now. She heard it before she saw her: an ear-splitting screech, accompanied by the great beating of wings. Kyllini crashed into the ballroom; her dragon landed on a white-clothed table, sending wine glasses tumbling to the floor. Kyllini threw back her head and let out another screech that made fleeing courtiers sob.
Seraena smiled.
That's my girl, she thought.
She darted through the room, throwing herself on to the dragon's back. They'd flown in bad conditions before — lightning, hurricane winds, arrows flying at them from all directions — but this. This was bad. Navigating such a small room was awkward; Kyllini's wings must have been burning from the effort of keeping them tucked close to her body. Still, her dragon didn't complain as they dove, launching knife after knife at the enemy.
"The dragon!" One of the attackers stood by Septimus's body, waving his sword. "Kill the bloody dragon!"
He flung a knife. Kyllini rolled to avoid it, colliding with a crystal chandelier. Blood dripped down her wing, and rage blossomed in Seraena's chest.
Seraena smiled. "Torch him."
Kyllini lit the man up like a candle.
Seraena scanned the ballroom. Most of the courtiers were gone, leaving about two dozen armed men. Three of her councilmen were still fighting, including her uncle Cillian. The rest lay in pieces on the floor.
Despite herself, Seraena felt a pang in her chest. She'd grown up with these men. Watched them drink, and play cards, and slip her sweets at Yulemas. They'd betrayed her over the last few weeks, but they were still people with wives and grandchildren.
And now they were dead. And for what?
Her rage doubled.
Heat prickled along her skin. She could see flames rippling along her legs, eating up the thin golden material of her gown. Knives whistled past her. They shot down like an arrow, and men scattered, their eyes widening at the sight of her. One of them backed up against a wall, his lips forming silent words. Lady of the Flame.
Kyllini incinerated him.
A muffled cry caught her attention. Seraena turned just in time to see a man pin Cillian against the wall. Her uncle thrashed, his face turning the colour of rotting eggplants; a knife tumbled from his hand. The assailant raised a blade. Kyllini swung in their direction, her mouth opening to spew fire, but Seraena placed a steadying hand on her back.
"No," she said. "Let me."
Kyllini closed her mouth.
The dragon swooped low enough for Seraena to jump. She hit the floor, rolling to absorb the impact. The assailant whipped around as she approached, swinging with his knife, but she caught his wrist. Fire burned in her heart.
Seraena held his gaze, letting the flames rip down to her fingertips. The man screamed, trying to yank his hand back, but she held it firm. His clothes went up first, followed by his skin. The ballroom filled with the smell of charred hair.
Seraena stepped back, leaving a pile of black ashes on the floor. Cillian slumped forward, gasping for air. Her uncle's eyes were watery.
"Thank." A wheeze. "You."
"Don't mention it," Seraena said.
She turned. The other attackers rushed towards them. Fresh blood painted their knives. There were two more bodies on the floor, Seraena realized, her heart thumping; the remainder of her councillors were dead.
Her heart hardened.
"Now, Kyllini!" she cried.
Her dragon sent out a blast of fire.
Seraena felt the heat of it ripple over her skin. She let out a cry, squeezing her eyes shut, and she heard Cillian respond in kind. Even with the Agnirian flame-proof skin, dragon fire was almost unbearable; it was one of the worst ways to die.
The fire extinguished. Ash coated the room like grey snow, settling on white tablecloths and shards of glass. No more bodies. No more shouting. The fire on her skin flickered out and died. Seraena waited to feel something — anger, remorse, sadness — but all she felt was tired.
It was over.
Finally, it was over.
"This was my fault." Cillian swallowed. Ash dusted his greying hair, making his lavender eyes look painfully bright. "I should have looked into better security. If I'd only—"
"Enough." Seraena raised a weary hand. "Not now. Please."
Cillian fell silent.
The door burst open. Kane appeared, looking like he'd been dragged backwards throw a rosebush. His blond hair stood up in clumps, and he was sporting several fresh bruises along his jaw. A cut above his eyebrow trickled blood.
"I'm sorry." Kane crossed the room, pulling Seraena into a fierce hug. "There were more of them waiting outside, and Teagan was panicking..."
She placed her hands on his chest. "Where is she?"
"With my parents." Kane searched her face. "You're alright?"
"I'm alright," Seraena said.
His worried eyes roamed over her body, as if checking to make sure that she was telling the truth. Apparently satisfied, Kane stepped back. His expression hardened as he took in Cillian. "This is your fault. If you hadn't—"
"Leave it alone, Kane," Seraena said tiredly. "He's suffering, too."
Kane's jaw tightened, but he nodded.
Seraena began to collect her fallen knives; most of them were twisted and warped. "You heard what they said, didn't you? Before they attacked?"
For Lucia. The words played over and over again in her head, but no matter how she examined them, it was always the same result. The men had attacked her on behalf of Lucia. Which meant...
Kane nodded. "I need to write to Annie."
An irrational pang of jealous went through her. Even now, Kane's first impulse was to write to Annalise. It was difficult, Seraena thought, staring down at the warped blade, to compete with history. But it wasn't a competition. She had to keep reminding herself of that.
"Here." Cillian stepped forward. "I have some parchment. Flameproof," he added, seeing Seraena's raised eyebrow. "I like to use it to draw up agreements. Stops other parties from destroying the evidence."
Of course he did. Kane scowled as he took the parchment, producing a quill from his breast pocket. He brushed the ash off a table so that he could lay the parchment flat. Seraena paced as he scribbled, trying not to peek over his shoulder.
He straightened. She held out a hand.
"Can I see?"
Kane handed her the letter. Seraena scanned the lines.
"Do you think she'll understand?" she asked.
His voice was grim. "She'll understand."
Kane whistled. A raven soared through the balcony door, landing on the table. He ripped a piece of cloth from his tunic, using it to secure the letter to the bird's talon. They watched, shoulder-to-shoulder, as the raven took off into the inky black sky.
Seraena ran a thumb over the warped blade. Somewhere, Annalise Cidarius would be sitting in a drizzly pub in Wynterlynn, her legs kicked up in front of the fire. The raven would settle on the arm of her chair. And Anna would untie the note, scanning the hastily scribbled words.
Annie,
We've been attacked. She's alive.
War is coming. Don't do anything until we get there.
Flint.