CAGED (#3, of Crows and Thorns)

Chapter 61

Blue wildfyre flames and yellow sunbeams spilling between arrow slits brightened the murkiness of the tower's staircase. I hurtled down the stone steps with Sage bounding alongside, his tufts of fur rippling with our hasty speed. After Graysen got his shit together, he'd be leaving the estate and heading to the catacombs buried beneath Ascendria, for whatever reason—who the hells knew. Right now, there was no time to waste. I needed to move on with my plan.

I erupted through the tower's arched entrance like a startled bird. The inner courtyard rang with a cacophony of sounds and brimmed with soldiers on high alert. Ferne stood amongst a small team, an adamere dagger clenched in one hand. The other hand was raised, fingers trilling slightly as if she were reading a report carried on the wind.

Vigilant soldiers guarded the various entrances to the Keep and were armed with either quarter-staffs or swords. A few more were escorting a group of servants carrying babies and toddlers from the Keep. A searing pang of guilt twisted inside my chest at the sobbed wails of a little girl clinging to a woman. But the Crowthers were versed in warfare and I was fairly confident that although the Brunnie was raising havoc within their home, no innocents would come to harm.

The stench of Brunnie-claiming clung to the air. The inner courtyard reeked of rotting garbage and putrid mildew and stinky socks. My stomach churned and I clapped a hand over my nose to stem the offensive smell.

Oh my gods, it's foul!

As for Graysen's brothers, they were nowhere to be seen. I could hear the madness drifting from the vast banks of windows and doors cast open along the wrap-around inner balcony. It seemed that the rabid Brunnie was on the second floor of the Keep heading toward the Crowther family's personal quarters.

A bellow.

A shriek.

A loud racket of clattering metal and clanking stone.

An ear-piercing eruption.

Bank after bank of windows exploded outward—

A shattering line of broken glass—

Those below streaked away from the downpour of glittering shards that rattled upon stone like heavy hail.

I sprinted toward the Keep's main entrance with its heavy door, ducking and weaving past soldiers, and dashed through the thin stream of servants taking refuge in the courtyard. My name was shouted in a low raspy voice. "Stop Wychthorn!" Ferne cried. I whirled my head sideways to see Ferne twisting around in my direction. The ends of black lace tied around her eyes danced with the swift movement. But her command was smothered by terrified screams that swelled louder as a flood of frightened school-aged children washed out from the Servants' Entrance.

I sprinted like a raging wind across dry, barren plains, my bare feet flying across the sun-warmed cobblestones. Sage's neck stretched long, his legs propelling him forward in a bounding gallop as he raced by my side.