King's Cage
Page 90

My focus narrows to one thing, one person’s devilish face. Samson Merandus.
He has to be close enough to bewitch Cal and send him after me. I search the battle as I run, looking for his blue suit. If he’s here, he’s hiding well. Or he could be perched above, looking down from the Treasury roof or the many windows of the adjoining buildings. Frustration eats at my resolve. Cal’s right here. We’re back together. And he’s trying to kill me.
The heat of his rage licks at my heels. Another blast rips along my left, sending needles of white-hot agony down my arm. Adrenaline drowns it out quickly. I can’t afford pain right now.
At least I’m faster than he is. After the manacles, every step feels easier than the last. I let the storm above fuel me, feeding on the electric energy of the other lightning-wielding newblood somewhere. Her blue hair doesn’t cross my vision again. Too bad. I could use her right now.
If Samson is hiding near the Treasury, I only have to get Cal out of his circle of influence. Skidding, I turn to look over my shoulder. Cal is still following me, a shadow of blue-tinged flame and anger.
“Come and get me, Calore!” I shout to him, sending a blast of lightning at his chest. Stronger than the last, enough to leave a mark.
He twists sideways, dodging, never breaking step. Hot on my trail.
I hope this works.
No one dares get in our way.
Red and blue and purple, fire and lightning, chase in our wake, splitting the battle like a knife. He pursues with the singular resolve of a hunting dog. And I certainly feel hunted across the Square.
I angle for the main gate, to whatever rendezvous Crance mentioned. My escape. Not that I’ll take it yet. Not without Cal.
After a hundred yards, it’s clear that Samson is running with us, just out of sight. No Merandus whisper has a bigger range than that, not even Elara. I twist back and forth, scanning the bloodbath. The longer the battle pushes on, the more time the Silvers have to organize. Army soldiers in clouded gray uniforms flood the Square, systematically winning over pieces of it. Most of the nobles retreat behind the wall of military protection, though a few—the strongest, the bravest, the most bloodthirsty—continue fighting. I expect members of House Samos to be in the thick of it, but I see no magnetrons that I recognize. And still no other familiar members of the Scarlet Guard. No Farley, no Colonel, no Kilorn or Cameron or any of the newbloods I helped recruit. Just Darmian, probably blasting his way through the Treasury, and Cal, trying his best to put me in the ground.
I curse, wishing for Cameron above all of them. She could silence Cal, keep him contained long enough for me to find and destroy Samson. Instead, I have to do it myself. Keep him at bay, keep myself alive, and somehow root out the Merandus whisper plaguing us both.
Suddenly navy blue blurs by at the edge of my vision.
Long months in Silver captivity have made me attuned to house colors. Lady Blonos drilled her knowledge into me, and now, more than ever, I thank her for it.
I whirl, changing direction with a vengeance. Ash-blond hair darts through the Silver soldiers, attempting to blend into their ranks. Instead, he stands out, his formal suit in sharp contrast to their military uniforms. Everything narrows to him. All my focus, all my energy. I throw what I can in his direction, loosing jagged lightning upon Samson and the Silver shield between us.
His eyes lock on mine and the lightning arcs like a cracking whip. He has the same eyes as Elara, the same eyes as Maven. Blue as ice; blue as flame. Cold and unforgiving.
Somehow my electricity bends, curving around him. It slingshots away, rocketing in another direction. My hand swings with it, my body moving of its own accord as the lightning races at Cal. I try to shout out, even though warning a bewitched man will do nothing at all. But my lips don’t move. Horror bleeds down my spine, the only sensation I can feel. Not the ground beneath my feet, not the bite of new burns, not even the smoky air in my nose. It all disappears, wiped away. Taken.
Inside, I scream because Samson has me now. I can’t make a sound. There is no mistaking the jagged brush of his brain against my mind.
Cal blinks like someone waking up from a long sleep. He barely has time to react, lifting his arms to protect his head from the electric blow. Some of the jagged sparks turn to flame, manipulated by his ability. Most of them hit home, though, dropping him to his knees with a pained roar.
“Samson!” he screams through gritted teeth.
I realize my hand is moving, straying to my hip. It draws the pistol I took and puts steel to my temple.
Samson’s whispers rise in my head, threatening to drown out everything else.
Do it. Do it. Do it.
I don’t feel the trigger. I won’t feel the bullet.
Cal rips my arm back, spinning me away. He breaks my grip on the gun and tosses it across the tile. I’ve never seen him so afraid.
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.
My body obeys.
I am a spectator in my own head. A furious battle rages before my eyes and I can’t do anything but watch. The tiled ground blurs as Samson makes me sprint, colliding head-on with Cal. I act as a human lightning rod, latching on to his armor, drawing electricity out of the sky to pour into him.
Pain and fear cloud his eyes. His flame can only shield so much.
I lunge, grabbing at his wrist. But the flamemaker bracelet holds firm.
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.
Fire pushes me back. I tumble end over end, shoulders and skull bouncing. The world spins, and dizzy limbs try to make me stand.
Get up. Get up. Get up.
“Stay down, Mare!” I hear from Cal’s direction. His figure dances before me, splitting into three. I might have a concussion. Red blood pulses across the white tile.