Warcry

will not convince you, then blades must suffice.” He drew his dagger with a flourish. “Guards! To my side!”
    Heads turned, staring, but the castle guards remained in their places.
    Heath stepped forward. “We aren’t idiots, Durst.”
    Durst gaped at him.
    “Detros spotted the men you bribed having a bit too much coin, and offering to trade for this duty. You must think us stupid to ignore those signs.” Heath put his hand on his hilt. “Your bribed supporters are elsewhere, under guard. I will deal with their betrayal later.”
    Heath watched as Durst seemed to shrink, lowering his blade slowly. The man leaned heavily on his cane and looked back at Lanfer.
    Lanfer still stood in the same position, but some of the smugness was gone. He was eyeing the guards lining the walls now, with the knowledge that they were no longer allies.
    Heath remained wary. So far, the only blade out was Durst’s dagger, but that could change in an instant.
    “Durst, see reason, man,” Lord Korvis repeated himself. “The Queen will be merciful. I’ve seen her justice and know it to be fair.”
    “You’ll get no support from me, Durst,” Lord Sarrensan joined in. “Put your dagger away, and let us see this done.”
    Heath stood, waiting for the man to choose.

    OTHUR SIGHED AND STARTED TOWARD DURST.
    Anna tried to pull him back, her face filled with fear, but he shook his head and pulled away. “Someone has to try, love.”
    He moved up next to the Warlord, who gave him a worried glance. Othur focused on Durst, standing there, looking forlorn. “Lord Durst,” he started, keeping his voice low. “Please. We do not agree, but there is no reason for blood to be shed this day.” Othur stepped off the dais, spreading his empty hands as he approached the man. “The Queen would permit you to withdraw to your lands, to live in peace. No one wants you to suffer any more than you already have. Any more than we all have.”
    Durst’s eyes were a blank, his lips moving but no sound issuing forth. He seemed a man defeated.
    “Peace comes at a cost,” Othur said. “But we fail our dead if we do not try to end the fighting.”
    “We could still fight,” Durst mumbled. “We could drive them from our lands.”
    Othur moved closer. “Let there be no more talk of death. Let us focus on the future, on the work that needs doing to ensure our prosperity.” He took another step closer.
    “Father,” Heath warned.
    “Heath, its fin—”
    Durst threw his head up at the sound. Othur saw the madness raging in his eyes.
    “You have a living son!” Durst screamed, spit flying from his lips. With one fierce move, he thrust his dagger in Othur, piercing his chest.
    Pain flared through Othur’s chest as he staggered back.

     
    DURST STARED IN ASTONISHMENT AT THE BLADE he had buried in Othur’s chest.
    The stunned silence around him was pierced by Anna’s scream.
    The dagger hilt slipped from Durst’s hand as Othur lurched back. Terrified, desperate for a weapon, Durst grabbed for the sword on Othur’s belt. The Sword of Xy, pulled free of its sheath, gleamed in the light.
    The room exploded behind him in hoarse cries and the ring of blade on blade. Heath lunged to catch his father, struggling to ease his fall. Othur’s hand fumbled for the dagger handle, surrounded by blood.
    Xylara had disappeared from the dais, the mantle abandoned on the floor. The damned Firelanders were pulling their weapons. In a moment, they would attack, and he’d die at their hands.
    But he had that moment and a breath left. The boy was on his knees in front of Durst, cradling his father, crying out his name.
    Durst swung the great crystal sword up over his head and put every ounce of his strength into the downward blow at Heath’s neck.
    A sword flickered out in a block that Durst could not evade. In horror, he watched the crystal strike the steel.
    With a loud ringing sound, the crystal sword shattered.
    Keir of the Cat stood there, snarling.
    Durst backed away, dropping the hilt of the sword.

    AT DURST’S CRY, ATIRA DREW HER HIDDEN DAGGERS and stepped in front of Lara. Amyu and Yveni ripped the mantle from Lara’s shoulders, ignored her struggles, and with Rafe’s aid, shoved her between the throne and the wall. Prest and Rafe took their positions again, drawing blades and keeping Lara confined.
    The rest of the room was filled with screaming women and battling warriors. Atira had a brief glimpse of Liam being attacked by two Xyians, one