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THE GUESTS ROSE, pushing back from the table in a gabble of panic.
Mal was at Angelique's side immediately, his saber already drawn
"We have to get to the Little Palace," Angelique said, her hands touching the navy handles of her blades, but not reaching for them. I knew why. What can metal do to these shadow soldiers but slow them down? "Where's Tamar?" she asked.
The windows exploded.
Glass rained down on us. I threw up my arms to shield my face and the guests screamed, huddling against each other.
The nichevo'ya swarmed into the room on wings of molten shadow, filling the air with the whirring buzz of insects.
"Get the King to safety!" I cried, unsheathing my sword and running to my mother's side.
The palace guards stood paralyzed, frozen in terror. Vasily still stood at the table, my father cowering beside him.
"You did this!" he screamed at me. "You and the witch!"
He lifted his saber high and charged, bellowing with rage. Mal stepped in front, raising his sword to block the blow. But before Vasily could bring down his weapon, a nichevo'ya grabbed hold of him and tore his arm from its socket, sword and all. He stood for a moment, swaying, blood pumping from his wound, then dropped to the floor in a lifeless heap.
Shock coursed through my veins. But I didn't let it affect me.
My mother began to shriek hysterically. She shoved forward, trying to reach her son's body, feet slipping in his blood as I held her back.
