Free Fist of the Furor by Frankie Rose, R. K. Ryals, Melissa Ringsted Page B

was in danger.

 
     
    Chapter 10
     
    “Cover the hallways!” Cadeyrn ordered, his knuckles white around the hilt of his sword. His eyes searched the dim corridors, made dimmer by the threat of rain outside the palace.
    We’d reached the landing of a floor I’d never visited before. It was even more opulent than the level my room was located on. Rich tapestries and expensive portraits lined the marble walls. Grand Henderonian furniture perched in comfortable alcoves, and the smell of incense from Guarda overwhelmed the senses. In the distance, a baby cried.
    Still clinging to my shoes, Thomas slid out from beneath my skirt, and I glanced down at the mouse.
    “Go,” I commanded. “Find out what’s happening.”
    He scurried away, the guards watching him apprehensively. I’d yet to remove my free hand from Cadeyrn’s arm, and his palm suddenly covered my fingers.
    “What has the mouse told you?” he asked.
    I glanced up at him. “There are foreign traitors in the palace. They aren’t Henderonian or Greemallian, but he was unable to determine from where they hail. They intend to kidnap the heir to the throne.”
    The guards hissed, their lips thinning and their narrowed eyes searching the passage. A young page huffed up the stairs behind us, his face red and frightened.
    “You ordered weapons, sire?” he panted, his head inclined.
    On his thin shoulders, the boy hefted three sword belts, a bow, and a quiver of arrows. The prince must have sent the boy for the weapons as soon as he’d seen me going for the stairs.
      Cadeyrn nodded at the rebels. I took the bow while Maeve, Daegan, and Lochlen each grasped a sword. For the second time since I’d come to the palace, I destroyed a dress, my dagger digging into the green satin covering my legs, the sharp blade leaving a slit from my ankles to my thighs on either side. It left skin exposed, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Handing the dagger hilt first to Maeve, I watched as she did the same, her expression grave.
    Oran’s snout lowered; his teeth bared. A grumbling growl emanated from his chest. I knelt next to him, my clumsy fingers returning the dagger to the sheath on my thigh.
    “Wyvers,” the wolf hissed. “I smell wyvers.”
    I gasped, “That’s impossible.”
    The prince’s hand fell to my shoulder.
    I looked at him. “Wyvers.”
    “Dammit!” Daegan swore. “Those cursed, ill begotten creatures!”
    Lochlen’s reptilian eyes glowed. “They’re not here to kill.”
    I stood. “How can you be sure?”
    Lochlen sniffed. “Because they’re in the air. They haven’t landed.” His gaze moved to Cadeyrn. “Is the nursery exposed to the outside?”
    The prince nodded. “There’s a glass ceiling similar to the one in the Hall of Light in Arien’s quarters.”
    Squeaking heralded the return of Thomas the mouse. “They have the child, my Queen, but they’ve no way to escape.”
    It hit me then what the men planned to do, and I went running down the hall, my bow clanging against my back. The wyvers weren’t here to attack, they were here for escape.
    “Damn it, Stone,” Cadeyrn yelled, his steps bringing him alongside me. “You’ll get us all killed.”
    “They’re going to use the wyvers to take the prince,” I panted.
    A female scream brought me to a halt outside an elaborate wooden door with a crescent moon engraved in the surface. There was a crash within, followed by another scream.
    Cadeyrn gripped me around the waist, pulling me against the wall hard, his breath fanning my hair. “We won’t do Henri any good dead.”
    Pushing at his hand, I pulled an arrow free of my quiver. “Is that his name?” I asked. “Henri?”
    Cadeyrn didn’t answer; he didn’t have to. The guards and the rest of the rebels caught up with us, their chests heaving.
    Cadeyrn pointed to three of his men. “You! Go to the ramparts! If they manage to get away, we’ll need to know in which direction. Don’t shoot! Do you understand? If they have