Dark Tides (Kingdom of Bones #2)

Original Edition: ◇ Chapter 23 ◇ Vessel ◇

JARON

West Incendia

Late Rainrise

As soon as the Storm unleashed her cloud, Jaron knew they would all try to get away.

Except for the archer.

He knew she would be coming for him amidst the chaos.

The emberbloods continued their ritual behind him, their words growing louder, the flames beginning to dim. Nearly all of Rove's men had run off into the fog, leaving only a couple back, including Rove himself. Not once did the man reach for the sword at his hip. Jaron began to think it was more of an accessory to him than a weapon he'd used, letting his men do all his dirty work for him.

With the reveal that the Turncoat was Dominic Rove and the emberbloods were sacrificing their magic, unease took root in Jaron, growing like a weed. Now was not the time to be doubting everything, but with the cards laid out in front of him, he didn't know what he stood for anymore. Only that he wanted to see his family again.

Movement in the mist caught Jaron's eye.

Was it her?

His hand went to the hilt of his sword without a second thought. She'd snuck up on him so many times before, she could do so just as easily now, but this time there would be consequences for him.

A rushed footstep behind him.

Jaron turned just in enough time to dodge the archer's sword. It nicked his shirt, tearing at the fabric. He glanced down, making sure she didn't get him, then back up at her.

"Caught you this time," he said, unsheathing his obsidian sword. "Are you getting reckless now, archer?"

Rove gasped. "Where did you come from?" He yelled for the few men who hadn't run off into the fog. "Get her, you fools!"

"No," Jaron said, waving them off. "I've got her."

"Busy yourselves and keep a watchful eye," Rove said to the three men. "We can't have anyone else sneaking up on us like that. The ritual is too important."

Jaron watched the archer carefully, waiting for her next move when a scream echoed through the dissipating fog. The sound clung to him, weighing him down from the pure despair in its tone. Figures moved through the fog in the distance, racing toward the scream.

"Csilla," the archer whispered. Jaron looked back at her, watching a range of emotions flicker over her face. "This has to end now." She turned toward the emberbloods, their backs completely unprotected.

He jumped forward as she raised her sword, knocking her blade aside before her swing could strike. "What are you doing?" he yelled at her.

"How many unarmed people will die when Magnus is freed?" the archer said. For a moment he thought he saw tears in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a mask of pure hate. She moved to go around him and he stepped back in front of her. "How many more people will suffer?"

"But they are unarmed!" He held his sword at the ready as she angled hers once more. "Would you attack a defenseless person? I'd begun to think you all were better than that."

The archer hesitated. "You're right," she said. "Perhaps it's you that needs to die." She twirled her sword in her fingers as she stepped back, preparing to launch an attack on him.

His heart sank to his stomach.

"You are his vessel," the archer said. "What will Magnus do when you no longer exist?"