Probably because my hair was on fire.
“Here!” My companion shoved me around. And did something that resulted in my head feeling lighter and a great length of burning silver hair landing on the dirt at my feet. “It’s spelled,” he hissed.
I felt myself lick my lips. “Right.”
“And watch out for the mage,” he added. “He’s said to be good with glamourie, so don’t trust anyone.”
“Including you?” I heard myself joke.
My companion smiled slightly.
And then both our heads jerked up as a barrage of spells exploded against the wall behind us and the dirt in front of us, throwing the latter up like a curtain. One that a group of Svarestri burst through a second later, in a less-than-orderly fashion, yelling orders to pull back, pull back. Which was kind of unnecessary, since my companion and I were already double-timing it into the tunnel along with everyone else.
“We’re outnumbered!” one of the fey yelled—an officer, judging by his fancier outfit. “Open the gate!”
“Tell him,” my companion said, nodding at me. “I don’t have the password.”
Everyone looked at me.
“I— We have orders,” I heard myself say. “The reinforcements—”
A spell crashed against the top of the archway, sending a gust of fire through the opening, like a bellow out of hell. Shields bloomed, my companion’s covering both of us, just in time. Yet I could still feel the flames, hot and bright—and wrong. Unnatural,
like the creatures who cast them.
“By the time they show up, we’ll be dead!” the officer thundered. “Open it now!”
“You should do what he says,” my companion advised.
“I can’t open it now! You know what—”
My voice cut off when another spell hit the archway, a glancing blow this time. And then rattled around inside the tunnel before smashing against our shields. My eyes lifted to see that the night outside the arch had turned smoky bright with spell-fire and loud with curses and screams.
And busy with what looked like hundreds of dark figures dashing through the smoke, headed this way.
“Open it!” the officer yelled—needlessly. Because my hands had already started fumbling at my belt for a set of keys. They were clumsy with panic and slick with sweat, and for a second, I didn’t think—
There!
The lock turned; a muttered phrase dropped the shield. And a second later, we were surging through the opening. Only instead of a troop of Svarestri warriors, I was suddenly surrounded by a flood of dirty, ragged, wild-haired—
“Witches,” I hissed, right before what felt like a red-hot poker bisected my ribs.
“To answer your previous question,” my companion said, his silver eyes flooding green. “Especially me.”
And then the world exploded in fire.
* * *
I scrambled back, panting and clawing desperately at my side—
For a big-ass knife . . . that wasn’t there.
For a moment, I just sat there in flickering darkness, shaking and disoriented, which was starting to feel like my default. Only this time, it was worse, because at least I’d known where I was before. Now . . .
I had no freaking clue.
I should have been looking out through the fey’s eyes, at my body sprawled on the ice. Instead, I was seeing something that looked like the view from many eyes, hundreds of them, spotting the darkness. All showing me different scenes and angles of Arthur’s city.