The Faerie War (35 page)

I’ve never run so fast. I’ve also never tripped so much in such a short space of time. Damn roots and slippery vines and steep patches with loose sand. I hear shouts behind me and the steady tromp of hundreds of feet. Thousands? I have no idea. The crackle and hiss of flames announces more trees on fire behind me. Smoke fills my nostrils, and all the fear and horror from the night of The Destruction comes rushing back to me.

I don’t look back. I jump and slide and run some more. Ryn told me there’s an entrance behind the waterfall. Will it be faster to go through there than dive into the river? The ground is flat now as I dash alongside water lit up with orange light. I pump my arms and legs. Faster, faster. I leap onto the rocks below the waterfall, slipping a little, but regaining my balance almost immediately. I dive at the pounding wall of water, hoping desperately that I’m not about to either slam into hard rock or get crushed by the falling river.

I land and stumble a few steps forward on a tiled floor. The foyer. Not far from the dining room. I’m not even wet. “We’re under attack!” I scream. Guardians and other fae race up and down the large stairway and along the corridors. This isn’t the bustle of a busy day; a far greater urgency drives them.

I dash out of the way as guardians in protective gear line up in formation across the foyer. Others take their position on the stairs. Elves line up beside them. At a shout from someone, they raise their arms in unison and aim arrows at the waterfall I just jumped through. Light flashes from behind the curtain of water, and sparks skitter across the tiled floor.

Draven’s army is almost inside.

And I have to find Oliver.

I race along the corridors without a clue as to what I’m supposed to do now. We didn’t prepare for this, did we? Unexpected invasion? Or maybe we did, and Ryn and I missed that part. People run in every direction around me, shouting to each other and pulling on their grey protective jackets. I’m not sure if they have a purpose or if they’re as lost as I am.

Tilly. She must be terrified. This isn’t what Oliver told her would happen.
Crap, crapping crap.
I slow my footsteps and duck into a doorway to avoid being trampled. Since I have no other orders, I’ll make up my own: Protect Tilly. Protect the Star. So where is she? With Oliver, right? Didn’t he say he wasn’t letting her out of his sight? But she wasn’t with him when I spoke to him just now . . .

Wait a freaking second. Why am I searching the corridors for Oliver when I can search with my head? Surely I’ve interacted with him enough times for there to be some kind of connection between us? I close my eyes and reach automatically with my mind.
Oliver, Oliver, where are you?

“Violet!” As if I’ve conjured him into being with my own thoughts, I open my eyes and find him racing up to me. He grabs my arm and takes a few gasping breaths. “Dammit, I can’t find Tilly.”

“What?”

“I’ve searched everywhere! Amon was keeping an eye on her, and now I can’t find him either. Can you—”

“Yes, I’ll find her. Is Draven here?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell’s going on. I’ve only seen guardians and warriors. So many of them are inside already.” He tugs at his hair and swears. Then he grabs the sword strap across his chest, lifts it over his head, and thrusts it into my hands. “She’ll need this. I . . . I have to go.” And with that he takes off.

I hold onto the sword tightly, watching Oliver disappear around a corner. Will I ever see him again?
Okay, relax. You’ll never find Tilly if you panic.
I turn around and rest my forehead against the door. I grip the hilt of the sword, imagine Tilly’s smiling face, and let my mind go.
Relax. She’s here somewhere.
My mind brushes past hundreds of others as it searches, reaching further and further as the seconds pass. Searching, searching. Further out. Past the walls of our base . . .

Nothing.

Fear grips me with an iron fist. I pull the sword strap over my head and start running. Pushing past people. I can’t keep still. Why am I getting
nothing
? This is just like when I searched for Calla and—

I stop. It’s because Tilly isn’t here, I realize. She’s been taken. She must be hidden somewhere protective the same way Calla and all those other prisoners with special abilities were. Either that or she’s . . . No, I refuse to believe she’s no longer alive. If that’s the case, we may as well kneel down and let Draven mark us now. But who would take her?

I press the fingers of my left hand to my temple and rub.
Amon was keeping an eye on her
. That’s what Oliver said. And Amon wouldn’t do anything to her. He’s a
librarian
. I remember him being strict, even mean on occasion when unruly trainees needed to be put in line, but he was always willing to help me out with assignments and . . .

My mind races through the memories I have of Amon and comes to a grinding halt at just one. The night this all started. The night Nate followed me through the faerie paths and set everything in motion. I had to take him back to the Guild with me. I noticed how empty the Guild was because, of course, it was late at night. But I remember seeing Amon there. We passed him on the stairs.

My mind freezes the image of Amon as Zell’s words from a night that feels so long ago play over in my ears.
I realized Nathaniel was at the Guild, so I just had my spy inform me when he left, and I waited for him in the forest.
Was Amon watching as Nate and I left the Guild that night? Was he the one who told Zell?

I think of the very first lightning bolt that broke through the Guild’s protective enchantments. It happened in the library. Was that because Amon was able to deactivate the spells protecting that area?

And that isn’t all. The explosion that supposedly originated in Uri’s lab happened the night we rescued Amon and brought him back here. What was it he said about the sword when we returned yesterday?
I was so concerned after the explosion that it had been destroyed. I thought it might have been kept down there with all the other spare weapons.
And the spare weapons are kept on the same level as the lab. My nails dig into my palms. It wasn’t Uri who caused the explosion, it was Amon. He was hoping to get rid of the only weapon that could destroy Draven.

And now he’s taken Tilly.

“Dammit all,” I mutter.

The floor shudders beneath my feet. I look around, realizing I’m the only one left in this corridor. Everyone else has disappeared while I’ve been lost in my thoughts. Another tremor rumbles through the floor, stronger this time. The sound of something cracking reaches my ears. I spin around. A faerie is standing at the far end of the corridor. A faerie in dark blue. As he takes a step forward, the floor quakes beneath his foot.
What?
Is this some magic trick I don’t know about? He didn’t even slam his foot down hard.

I reach into the air and flick my hand. The whip appears, curling around air with a loud
snap
. I pull my arm back, then throw it forward. The faerie jumps. The whip wraps around his ankle. I tug hard before he can land, but it’s like the whip is connected to a boulder. I lose my grasp on it. The faerie hits the tiles with the force of a cannon ball. They smash apart, pieces flying everywhere as the ground trembles so violently I lose my footing.
Flipping flip. How heavy is this guy?
I scramble up and run in the opposite direction. I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m doing; I just need a moment to
think
.

I leap down a stairway three steps at a time, landing right in the middle of the action on the next level.
Dammit, should have gone
up
the stairs.
A blue-clad figure runs at me. I jump and somersault over his head, then jab a knife into his shoulder before taking off. I dodge and dive between the rest of the fighters until I reach the end of the corridor. I turn into another corridor and run like the wind is chasing me.

Someone steps out a doorway halfway down, blocking my way. He throws his hands out, spreading water across the tiles.
Thanks, dude, that actually helps.
I pump my arms and legs faster, then drop onto my knees and shoot across the water, slashing at the faerie with a knife as I slide past. I slam into the wall at the end of the corridor, jump up, and aim for another stairway.

I run up and up, keeping a shield bubble around me as I go.
Finally, a corridor with no one in it.
I hurry along the corridor, spinning around as I check for people in blue.
Okay, think. Where would Amon take Tilly?
My shield fizzles away as I reach over my shoulder for the sword. If I search once more, maybe I’ll find her this time.

Something strikes my back and throws me onto the floor. The sword clatters away from me. I roll over and see sparks ricochet from my arm and vanish into the air. “Nice jacket you’ve got there,” a spikey-haired woman says as she stalks toward me. “It seems to repel magic. I’m betting your skin won’t do the same thing, though.”

I reach into the air with both hands, grab two knives, and fling them at her. They spin through the air as I jump to my feet. She dodges one but the other catches her shoulder. She clutches it with a grimace, then swivels and kicks at me. I jump back and knock her outstretched leg to the side. Instead of falling, she spins in the air and lands on both feet.

A figure melts away from the wall behind her and throws an arm around her neck. He squeezes tight, but she jabs back with her hand. I catch the glint of a blade before it sinks into his stomach. He stumbles back with a groan, and I realize I recognize him. Jamon’s father, Asim.

“No!” I shout.

I push my hands out at her, sending a ripple of power that I hope will knock her down. She laughs and drops to the floor the moment the power leaves my hands. It shoots over her, and she leaps to her feet again. I put up a shield and try to run past her—I can only think of Asim now—but she blocks my way. She dances back and forth, waiting for me to attack. So I do. Blast of magic, punch, jab, spin and duck down, slash with a knife. But every move I make, she’s already there, countering me. As if she knows what I’m going to do before I do it.

Crap, maybe she does.
Zell collected people who could read minds and hear thoughts. Perhaps she’s one of them.

“Trying to get past me, sweetie? You should give up now.” She gives me a triumphant smirk. “I think you know it’s not going to happen.”

She knows I’ve figured her out. But that doesn’t mean I’ve lost. If I don’t want her to know what I’m about to do, then it’s clear that I can’t know either.

So I let myself go, kicking, punching, spinning, and ducking purely by instinct. No plan, just fighting by the seat of my pants. This is the Violet who graduated top of her class. The Violet people whispered horrible things about but were too scared to challenge. The Violet who kicked butt at every challenge the Guild ever threw at her. And while I recognize now that that Violet was way too obsessed with being the best, I’m eternally grateful she worked her ass off.

Dodge, kick, spin around, elbow in the face. She stumbles backward, grabbing her nose, and I take my chance. I gather up all the power I can access in a single second and throw it at her. It leaves my hands as a giant purple flame—and strikes her at the same moment someone whacks her over the head with a broken piece of banister.

She collapses to the ground, clothes burned and eyebrows singed. Jamon is standing behind her. “You messed with the wrong people,
sweetie
,” I growl as I jump over her. I hurry to Asim’s side along with Jamon.

“Dad!” He crouches down, his eyes on the blade protruding from his father’s stomach. “What do I . . . Tell me what to—”

“Go,” Asim gasps, waving toward the noise of battle. “Fight for . . . us. I’ll . . . be fine.”

Ignoring Asim’s words, Jamon wraps both arms around his father and holds him tight.  “We’re never going to win this, Vi,” he whispers. “There are way too many of them. And they’re not . . . normal. They can do things other faeries can’t. They’re ripping through us.”

I hear screams, the clash of weapons, the zing of sparks, and running footsteps squeaking on tiles. The air is hazy with smoke. But I refuse to let this be the end. “We are going to win this,” I tell him fiercely. “This is
not
the end for us.”

I get to my feet, fetch the sword, and head away from the noise and chaos. I know how this has to go now. I have no other choice. In fact, I think some part of me has known since I woke up with the memory of my last meeting with Nate fresh in my mind.

I find another quiet corridor—making certain it’s empty this time—and stop in front of the wall. I sling the sword over my back, reach into my boot, and pull out my stylus. I rest my hand against the wood paneled wall for a moment, then write the familiar words to open a doorway.

I’m leaving. And this isn’t me being a coward. This isn’t me being selfish. This is me facing what I’ve done and trying to make it better. Because even though Ryn said I shouldn’t blame myself, that all of this would have happened somehow anyway—even if I hadn’t saved Nate’s life or broken his heart—the simple fact is that it
did
happen this way. And I
am
responsible. And if anyone stands a chance of fixing this, it’s me.

I press my lips together, take a deep breath, and step into the darkness. I don’t know how this is going to go. I don’t exactly have a plan. All I know is that this started with Nate and me, and it has to end with Nate and me.

I picture the cold beauty of the Unseelie Court. The frozen fountains and the shards of ice. When the darkness of the paths clears, I’m surprised for a moment that it’s still night here. But, of course, I have no idea where the Unseelie Court really is. Clearly it’s far away from Fireglass Vale, where the rising sun is witnessing pointless bloodshed.

I walk forward, my eyes trained on the dark shape of a palace rising above the trees ahead. Light flickers from the tallest tower, but other than that, the Unseelie Palace is shrouded in darkness. Ice crunches beneath my boots as I continue forward, my footsteps far more confident than my thoughts.