“No,” Vita said, firmly.
Something dangerous glittered in his eyes and his lips curled back into a frown. But before he could snap a response at her, she lifted her hand and said, “Take her toyourroom. It’s possible they’re here to kidnap the royals so they can have a rebellion with an actual figurehead.”
Another blast sounded from a dozen feet away from them. They both turned sharply to the noise, and Vita tightened her hold on her sword.
“Go to Her Majesty,” Nikator said. “I’ll take over here.”
“Stay safe.” Vita looked at Biyu, and her eyes softened the slightest bit. “Both of you.”
And then she was off in the opposite direction while more intruders flooded the library. Thick magic filled the air, stinging Biyu’s nose and nearly choking her. The mages must have been fighting. How many people had Yat-sen ordered here? She didn’t think he had this much power. This much influence. But maybe he had made connections with the rebel army—that was the only explanation for this.
Another masked man entered the narrow hall and threw a short knife at them. Nikator deflected it expertly while Biyu dropped to her knees, a scream on her lips.
“Stay by my side!” Nikator shouted.
Her body shook as he fought off more men. She crawled away from him and the intruders he fought. Her hands slipped on the sticky blood pooling all over the floor. Suddenly, she wasn’t here anymore—she was back in time, five years ago, with a cacophony of screams filling the air just like this and the iron scent of blood filling her nostrils.
She squeezed her eyes shut, releasing shuddering breaths.
She had a mission to accomplish.
Yat-sen had created this opportunity; she couldn’t freeze in fear.
Biyu wiped her quaking fingers on her dress, smearing the blood as she rose to her feet. She inhaled, exhaled, and then glanced at Nikator. There were two bodies at his feet, crumpled at odd angles, and two men against him. He moved fluidly, lethally, and with more skill than they possessed. It wouldn’t take him long to kill them.
He would be safe, she realized with relief. Now, it was time for her to spring to action.
Biyu stepped over the corpses near her—the first people he had killed—and sprinted down the pathway between the bookshelves.
“Biyu!” Nikator said. “It’s not safe! Come back?—”
She didn’t look over at him again as she rounded the corner. All around her, people were engaged in battle. Three mages fought against a horde of intruders, black and blue shadowy magic whipping throughout the air in thick tendrils, and smokeless fire erupting from their hands. Her heart seized in fear, but she pushed herself forward, numbing her mind to the images she saw. The bloodied, pulpy mess of faces. The slit throats. The burned remains. Her stomach heaved.
Control yourself.
Breathe in, out, in—calm down, Biyu.
She burst through the exit of the library and found herself in the mage quarters. She recalled the map Yat-sen had given her; she had memorized it, and now that the fog of anxiety was lifting, she could remember the twisting paths that led to the warding room. She passed by more people engaged in battle, but the intruders seemed to ignore her as they fought off the mages—they likely knew that she was a part of this plan.
She had never been to this part of the palace, even before Drakkon Muyang had taken the throne, but the winding paths were somehow familiar; she knew the way to go. She ran, thighs burning, lungs panting, eyes darting—she dodged wayward attacks from mages fighting against the intruders, she ducked, pushed, and ignored the mangled bodies, the cries for help, the screams.
The only thing on her mind was the ward room.
There were more mages and guards here, and the intruders knew that too, because they swarmed this place, keeping them busy for her to slip by.
“Biyu!” Nikator called for her.
She didn’t have to turn around to know he was gaining on her. She rounded another corner, her chest clenching as she saw the door to the ward room. One mage rolled on the floor with a masked attacker holding him in a chokehold, while sparks sputtered from the mage’s hand. Biyu’s eyes widened and she forced herself to look away from him as she ran up and yanked the handle.
She didn’t want to think of how many lives would be lost—and had already been lost—for this one opportunity for her.
Inside, the area was spacious. Bookshelves chock full of scrolls, books, and thick tomes lined every wall in the windowless octagonal room. At the center was a giant stone table with all sorts of magic crystals humming with magic, the air dense with it. Some parchment lay on the surface, and she wondered if one of them was the warding spell with her blood on it.
She slammed the door shut and sprinted to the table. Her hands trembled as she scanned the various open scrolls. They were all sorts of wards—some for protecting the lotus wing, some for protecting the inner palace from wayward magic attacks, some for the perimeter of the palace. All of them served different purposes, too. She pushed them around, skimming over the contents.
“Biyu!” Nikator burst through the door, the wood splintering and spraying across the room. Blood ran down the side of his face and bloomed on his shoulder. His eyes were wide and wild, and when they met her, disbelief colored them. “What—what are you doing?”
Her hand rested on one of the crinkled papers. She swallowed down the fear and guilt nearly choking her. He was bleeding, profusely, and she hated that she was one of the reasons behind this. That she would be breaking more than just the wards.
