Total pages in book: 219
Estimated words: 210867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1054(@200wpm)___ 843(@250wpm)___ 703(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 210867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1054(@200wpm)___ 843(@250wpm)___ 703(@300wpm)
Bastard.
Kicking the Craven in the sternum, I knocked it back. Another came at me from the side. I swung the sword across its neck as I twisted, bringing my other blade around as other guards fought, holding their ground. Some fell, and not even I, as fast as I was, could reach them before the Craven smothered them. There were no more wild volleys of arrows, but skilled, purposeful shots. Sharpened arrowheads that flew between guards, striking the Craven.
But for those of us out beyond the Rise, there was no skill in this kind of battle. No art. There was no thinking, and in a way, it was kind of a release. It was all about moving. Staying on your feet. Keeping out of reach. It was hacking and cleaving my way through what seemed like an endless wave of dry, gray flesh. I chopped off limbs. Tore skin open. Dark, oily ichor flowed, joining the brighter, redder blood spilling across the packed ground. There was no way to tell how many I took down. A dozen. Two? Three? Still, it got my heart and blood pumping.
It silenced my mind.
I spun, slamming my elbow into a Craven’s face, feeling the bones cave in as I snapped forward, kicking another off a fallen guard. A mortal brought his broadsword down on the Craven, a flash of white snagging my attention. My head jerked up just as an arrow whizzed past me, slamming into the skull of a Craven sneaking up on a guard.
A Royal Guard.
Vikter.
He stood several feet away, his cheeks splattered in blood as he turned to the Rise. There was this moment—a brief one—where I knew I could strike now and take him out, wound him enough that a Craven would quickly finish him off. It was necessary because then he wouldn’t be around when it came time for me to take the Maiden out of the city. This was my chance. A perfect one. My fingers twitched around the hilt of a sword. No one would know. No one would suspect a thing.
But I didn’t.
I didn’t even know why.
Vikter turned back around and spotted me almost instantly. Our gazes locked for a heartbeat, and it was as if we both realized the same thing in that instant.
If he was out here, and so was I, that meant…
Motherfucker, Vikter mouthed.
“Shit.” I spun, sheathing one sword.
I bolted over the slippery, body-clogged crowd. The Maiden was safely tucked away in the castle, where no Craven could reach her, but that didn’t mean she was safe.
Especially since she was locked away with the Ascended, and even though she was important to them, I didn’t trust a single one.
Grabbing the half-torn tunic of a Craven, I tossed it to the ground and brought the bloodstone sword down, straight through its chest. Cursing, I withdrew the blade and pressed on. I didn’t like leaving the fight, not when a decent number of the horde was still standing, but the Maiden was unguarded, and knowing my luck…
Near the foot of the Rise, a guard drew his blade free of a Craven’s chest. The man stumbled back, lifting his sword arm. The skin of his hand was a mangled mess.
He’d been bitten.
The guard turned, and in the chaos of the battle, his wide gaze collided with mine. I didn’t recognize him. Had no idea who he was, but I knew he understood what was coming for him now. One bite. It was all it took. His jaw set in determination.
The man dropped his sword and withdrew the dagger attached to his hip. I knew immediately what he was about to do. He didn’t hesitate. Not for a damn second, and he couldn’t if he hoped to finish this. The bite would make it impossible in minutes.
The mortal guard showed more honor in that moment than most were capable of—more than the Ascended ever deserved.
He cut his own throat.
Fuck.
I looked away. The quickness it required to be successful? The bravery to do that for what was basically the greater good?
Fuck.
At the gates, I looked up. “Commander!” I shouted, catching a Craven with an uppercut of my sword, splitting the bastard in two.
Jansen whipped around, looking down. The way his jaw hardened, I knew he wasn’t pleased to see me—the only free Prince of his kingdom—outside the Rise, but he would have to suck it up.
“Open the gate!” he yelled.
Stepping over the fallen Craven, I hurried forward and squeezed through the minuscule opening. I didn’t waste time with being checked out, I just ran to the nearest steps and climbed the Rise. It was the quickest way to get back to the castle. Jansen shot me a look as I reached the top. Hiding a smile, I took off down the wall, passing an empty battlement and then another, nearing the portion of the Rise that hadn’t been manned earlier. There simply weren’t enough skilled archers to fill each—