A choked gasp from behind made me look over my shoulder, my heart stuttering in my chest as my eyes caught the sight of Talon. He was writhing on the cold stone, his massive frame heaving as he fought for steady breaths.
A sob tore through my chest and with a shout of anger, I threw the entire weight of my body into the guard, shoving the shadow-dagger forward with every ounce of my will until the blade buried itself deep within his heart.
The guard made a wet, clicking sound in his throat, his widened eyes locking onto mine in a final moment of staggered shock, just as the first dark spill of blood began to overflow from his open mouth.
His whitening form swayed to the left, and then right, before collapsing into a lifeless heap at my feet.
I killed him.
Without sparing the corpse a second glance, I spun on my heel and rushed toward Talon’s side, my knees hitting the stone.
He was gasping, the sound a terrible gurgle that had my stomach bottoming out. Beads of sweat stood out against his paling skin, as he ground his teeth together, the muscles of his jaw leaping.
“I will be okay… little flame,” he managed to grit out.
“You do not look okay!” I cried out.
I looked across the courtyard, my eyes wide and searching until I found the shadows where Bater and Neya stood.
“Get Leona!” I screamed.
My hands were shaking as I reached for him, my fingers swiping the sweat-matted hair from his forehead. I shifted my weight, pressing both palms down onto the wound in his side.
Black blood, thick and shimmering with a strange iridescent sheen, began to seep between my fingers, coating my skin.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Xylos approaching, his face a mask of grim resolve. He dropped the shadow-bound guard beside us, the man still writhing and thrashing against the constricting bands that mummified his body.
Talon’s eyes snapped open, a flicker of fire returning to the navy depths.
“Take him… to the Thrynn Chambers,” he forced out.
The guard’s eyes widened until the whites showed all around, his mouth moving in a desperate attempt to plead, but his words remained muffled and strangled by the shifting shadows over his lips.
Talon’s gaze drifted past him, landing on Neya and Bater as they approached.
“Dispose of the other two,” he commanded.
They eyed him with a weary uncertainty, Neya’s gaze darting between him and the towering form of Xylos.
“Yes, Master,” they muttered in unison.
Talon cleared his throat, a wet, hacking sound that made me flinch, and he tried to push himself upward.
I immediately moved to support his shoulders, my arms straining under the solid weight of him. He leaned into me, his breathing hot against my neck, before he drew in a deep breath.
“It will not be long before another round of guards enters our domain,” his voice boomed. “I want everyone to prepare for war.”
37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The lingering scent of ozone and scorched spirit lingered on the obsidian, a bitter perfume that struggled to fade.
Xylos stood a few paces away, his frame taut and his gaze never leaving Talon.
My own eyes were fixed on the leaking wound beneath my hands.
The dagger jutted from inches below his ribs, a fragment of silver steel that pulsed with a gross light. From the wound, tendrils of smoke unfurled in sluggish, unceasing wisps that smelled of ruin and dissolving spirit.