The Ivory Rite

Chapter 49

It's a wonder my feet hit the ground running. Adair is screaming, "Stop her!" and I can hear his men jumping to action. I don't dare waste time looking over my shoulder—nothing is preventing Adair from following me over the side of the box, straight into the ring. In fact, I'm sure he's done just that.

My own Watchmen are contemplating attack as I run toward Colter. He's no longer Toryn, the grown man I've struggled for the opportunity to know over the last few months. All I can think of is the execution of my childhood friend.

I will not let that happen. Not after all of this.

The only thing I have on my side is the fact that the men are unsure of how to proceed—one does not normally manhandle a ruling queen. They react with hesitation, many of them pausing long enough to keep my path to Colter clear.

At least one in their count is free from reservation as he catches up and grabs me by the arm, wrenching it from behind. I buck wildly and the man's fist connects with my jaw, either an accident in the struggle, or an aggressive attempt at subduing me. Pain explodes though my head, white light flashing before my eyes, and all I can think is, how strange. How strange that after all the abuse I claim to have endured growing up, that this is the first time I've ever been struck.

It's a curious feeling.

All of a sudden I'm free, though I'm not sure why. I take off again, this time glancing behind me out of sheer curiosity. Although the man who grabbed me was following Adair's own orders, I don't believe he approved of the methods utilized. The man who struck me is lying on the ground, his discarded helmet lying in the puddle of blood now forming around his head. His own nose is the source, as far as I can tell. Adair stands over him, one clenched fist streaked with a violent shade of scarlet. His head snaps over, our eyes meeting for a split second before I turn my back and close the last few feet between me and Colter.

I can't stop my momentum, wading clumsily through the mountain of dry kindling at his feet. A stumble turns into a fall, my chest crashing against his and knocking the wind from two sets of lungs. He winces, as his spine is thrown into the post he's lashed to. I can feel him struggling for breath as I throw my arms around his neck.

"What are you doing?" he gasps, finding his voice over the roaring crowd. I hear the sound all at once—somehow it was lost on me in the seconds it took to get to him. People are screaming and throwing anything they can get their hands on down into the ring, aiming for both of us.

"Traitor!"

"Rebel Queen!"

"Burn them both!"

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block it all out again.

They can't burn us both, I think. I'm supposed to save him. The prophecy says he can be saved.

"What have you done?" he whispers in my ear, leaning his cheek against the top of my head. He's tied so tight it's the only part of his body still capable of movement.

"We're about to find out," I whisper back, kissing him on the cheek before turning around to face the approaching White Watch.

Most of them have drawn their weapons, but Adair stands at the front of the crowd, his empty hands hanging limp at his sides. One of them is ruined and bloody, curled at an odd angle, suggesting he may have struck that man before ripping off his helmet. He stares at me with the face of a stranger. I gauge something in his expression resembling anguish for a split second, but my eyes are drawn away by the men moving to surround us. They're looking to Adair for direction. I suspect no one wants to make the same mistake as the crumpled form still laying on the ground, over by the royal box.

I look for Thane, but I can't find him among the men. I'm wondering where he could be when Adair speaks, bringing my attention back to the issue at hand.

"You have to come with me, your Majesty," he says, his voice devoid of emotion. It's as though he's shut it all off—but then again, isn't that what he suggested I try to do?

"No." I raise my chin, staring him straight in the eye. My back is pressed against Colter's chest.

"Please go," Colt whispers in my ear. "Don't make things worse for yourself." I ignore him, staring Adair down with a fierceness I don't really feel. My heart is pounding out a frantic rhythm, the blood rushing in my ears as loud as an ocean storm. All the while, the Watchmen are getting closer.

At some point I become aware that the crowd has quieted. I see new movement out of the corner of my eye, a form too small to be a soldier.

Asmund has joined us in the ring.

Studying me with his head cocked to one side, his blue eyes dance in the afternoon sunlight. He nods once, and I would swear it's in approval, but that doesn't make any sense at all.

"Seize her," is all he says.

The words have only just left his mouth when the Watchmen descend. Adair gets to me first, taking my right arm in a firm grip with his good hand. His face is a mask of discipline, but when he leans in close enough to place his lips on my ear, I hear the pain in his voice.

"You have to come with me," he whispers. My chin juts in the air, my eyes glaring into his.

"I'm not going anywhere with you." I force the words through gritted teeth. He blinks twice before answering.

"They won't touch him today," he tells me, his eyes narrowing. "You've just earned yourself a Trial of the Crown. He'll be needed as a witness." I search the green depths of his gaze for truth, as we continue to glare at each other with semi-false ferocity. He gives me one curt nod of reassurance, his face so close that I can feel the stubble on his jaw rub against my cheek.

"Please," he whispers, his voice faltering, the word a knife in my side. "I don't want to hurt you."

Deciding I can do at least this much for him, I take a step forward, away from Colter. That small yield is enough to encourage the men. They become more confident, closing around us in a tight rank. One of them takes my other arm, only to drop it as though he's been burned. A quick glance to my right tells me his change of heart is due to Adair's murderous expression. He wrestles me across the ring single-handedly, making a show of appearing rough. Although it looks sinister, he holds me in such a way that I know I could shake his grip with ease if I wanted to—there's just no point. I crane my neck to look back at Colt, mouthing familiar words to him.

I'll find you.

Soon my feet leave the hard-packed dirt of the ring, the heels of my boots clicking on stone, as I'm pulled into the darkness of a tunnel leading below the theater.

This isn't the first time Colter's been ripped from my hands. It's not the first time I've been dragged inside, away from the air, away from the light. Nevertheless, this time will be different.

This time I won't let them get away with it.

END BOOK ONE