One of the wooden boats had drifted farther away from the other two and was now over the area where the ship had sunk. Men slowly stood as they stared into the water.

  Everything happened within seconds. The men…gods, they had no chance.

  The sharp crack of splintering wood rang out, and the boat shattered beneath them, sucking the men under the surface of the still water as if the sea had swallowed them whole. The frantic paddling of the other men in the second boat ended as the entire vessel was dragged under, as well. My gaze flew to the third boat as I summoned the eather. The essence rushed to the surface as my will formed—

  The dinghy disappeared.

  There one second and then gone. No shouts. No screams. Not even a single paddle or splinter of wood floated in the water.

  “What the fuck?” growled Kieran.

  The flood of people reached the area below as Casteel twisted to the ledge, searching for his brother. I found him near the inlet—

  A deafening roar surged as people walking, running, and on horseback pressed forward, crashing into the inner Rise’s closed gates. High-pitched, pained screams of agony tore through the air as people were crushed in their desperation to get away from whatever was in the water and reach the safety of the castle grounds.

  “Get your brother,” I said, causing Casteel to jerk in my direction.

  Spinning around, I took off. I heard Kieran and Casteel shout but didn’t stop. My feet slapped off stone as I pushed hard, harder—

  Only when my feet pounded off grass instead of stone did I realize I’d shadowstepped to the courtyard, a yard or so from where several guards stood by the gates—gates that shook as the people pounded against them.

  “Open the gates!” I yelled. “Open the godsdamn gates!”

  Either the soldiers couldn’t hear me over the screams, or they were ignoring me.

  The iron and wood shuddered.

  Fuck it.

  Slowing, I summoned the eather as my will formed in my mind. The heavy iron bar that took three to four Atlantians to lift swung up and into the air, sending the guards staggering back. The bar landed to the side with a heavy thump as the guards spun, their shock piercing the walls I’d built in my mind. The gates groaned and then swung open.

  People on foot and horseback flooded the courtyard, swallowing the guards as they barreled straight toward me. My eyes connected with the wide, rolling eyes of a frightened horse as a large wagon wheel seemed to roll out from nowhere, slamming into the side of the carriage and knocking it sideways onto two wheels, flinging the driver from his seat. Shoulders knocked into mine as the weight of the teetering carriage started to pull the horse.

  I shot forward as eather joined my will, stopping the carriage and then lowering it. It wasn’t exactly gentle. I didn’t have time for that. Its wheels snapped off their axles, and my attention shifted to the straps tethering the horse. I broke them, freeing the animal. I was barely able to get out of its way as it tore off, its hooves tearing up the ground. I whirled toward a shout—

  Another wagon careened toward a group of young dockworkers—boys and young men barely in their second decades of life. They were quick on their feet, attempting to scatter and move out of its direct path, but there was nowhere to go. People and carts were everywhere. One, smaller than the rest with bright carrot-colored hair, tripped on—gods. He tripped over a body and went down. Another boy, a few years older, spun back and shouted a name I couldn’t make out over the pounding of feet and yelling. He rushed back and slid down to grab the younger boy as the driverless wagon bore down on them.

  I threw out my hand, and the eather left me in a rush. A crackle of silver light washed over the wagon as it lifted straight into the air, its still-spinning wheels coming a hairsbreadth from the older boy who had thrown himself over the younger one. His head snapped in my direction, and his eyes widened.

  “Move,” I shouted. “Move now!”

  The boy scrambled to his feet, dragging the other up with him. Once they were clear, I brought the wagon back down.

  I made it to their sides as I caught sight of an Atlantian soldier. “Get to high ground,” I told the boys.

  The older one stared as I glimpsed my hand. Gold swirled and mixed with shadows along my skin.

  “You’re her,” the young boy exclaimed, his carroty hair drenched with sweat and plastered to his flushed cheeks. He elbowed the older one in the stomach. “Micky, it’s her.”

  “Uh-huh,” Micky mumbled, still staring.

  “Go,” I urged them, glancing toward the soldier. Several others had joined him as they fought their way toward the open gates. “Now.”

  Hoping they listened, I shadowstepped to where the soldiers were. I grabbed the arm of the closest one. Startled, he swung on me.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I said.

  He halted, his face paling. “Your M-majesty, I didn’t realize—”

  “It’s all right,” I interrupted. “I need you to get this crowd under control and to high ground.”

  The soldier swallowed. “General Aylard ordered us to the docks—”

  “I don’t care what General Aylard said,” I cut in as I stepped around him, getting the attention of the other soldiers. Their gold-and-ivory cloaks rippled in the wind as they turned. “I am telling you to get this crowd under control. I will take care of whatever is in the water.”

  Hopefully.

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” a darker-skinned guard said with a slight head bow. “Sa’Quir, get Volour’s team to the gates. Have them stop any wagons coming in and free the horses.”

  As the soldier barked out quick orders, I took a breath and turned to the gates. Hoping Casteel got to Malik, I willed myself to the docks.

  The wind had calmed as the wooden boards of the dock creaked under my feet. I scanned the sea, the waters dark instead of the stunning shade of blue the sea normally was. I dragged in a deep breath and caught the scent of salt in the air, but also something else. The sickly-sweet stench of…stale lilacs.

  Death.

  Kolis.

  The water suddenly churned violently between the docked ships. My breath lodged in my throat as something Ian had spun tales about as we walked the southern shores of the Stroud Sea as children erupted from the water, seawater cascading off creatures with the heads and bodies of a horse but gills beneath their eyes. Gilled horses with slick, pale flesh clinging to jutting, sharp bones threaded with brightly colored blue and pink coral.

  Seahorses.

  They were seahorses.

  And they weren’t alone.

  CHAPTER 31

  POPPY

  Riders were crouched on their backs, and I couldn’t tell if it was seaweed or clothing hanging from them. They were in the same condition as their horses—more bone and chalky white barnacle than dull gray flesh and seemingly held together by thin strands of tendon and the very will of the sea. They held onto reins with one hand and raised shadowstone sickle swords in the other.

  The horses shrieked as their hooves bore down on the sandy shore. It wasn’t a whinny or a neigh. The sound was warped, almost bird-like, and utterly terrifying.

  And I just stood there, open-mouthed and in shock, as they rode right past me, dozens of them heading for the streets of Lowertown. I knew I needed to do something, but I was stunned.

  Seahorses?

  They were real?

  Shouts from the occupied ships at the dock drew my gaze. A large merchant ship, several piers to my right, was rocking. My gaze lowered, and I saw what they shouted about.

  Ceeren.

  Or at least what I expected the ceeren to look like. They were climbing the sides of the ships, their upper bodies like mortals—long-dead mortals. Their flesh was like the riders’: patchy and covered in barnacles and kelp. Their lower halves were like creatures of the sea, scaled and finned—really, super-dead creatures of the sea.

  How they could pull themselves up the sides of the ships with more bone than muscle was beyond me, but they looked otherworldly strong. Their nails or claws scored the wood and tore out chunks of it. If they could do that to wood, flesh and bone would be nothing.

  “Archers!” a voice from the inner Rise called. “Fire at will!”

  I twisted at the waist as arrows sliced through the air in a wave, their tips glinting red. Bloodstone. They struck the riders and their horses, piercing flesh and bone. The impact of the bolts didn’t knock the riders from their rotting saddles.

  It shattered them.

  Bloodstone, something I wasn’t sure was used as a weapon in their time, could kill gods? Well, dead gods. Did that make a difference? I didn’t know, but those riders, who had to be ceeren in full mortal form, were completely, totally dead.

  My mind kept looping back to that fact. Dead ceeren were riding seahorses through the streets of Lowertown. And only two beings could raise the dead like that.

  The true Primal of Death and the true Primal of Life. Instinct told me I couldn’t—not to this extent, anyway, where the power of life or death could reach back thousands of years. No. The essence would need to be tied to a Court for that.

  My stomach shifted with unease as confusion rose. Like last night, I didn’t sense him. He wasn’t here, but…

  His will was.

  An arrow hissed past me, striking a ceeren on the side of the ship, jolting me from my stupor. What was I doing just standing here?

  Stepping forward, I summoned the eather, and it responded at once, filling my veins and tinting my vision with gold-laced shadows. Essence sparked from my fingertips as I raised my right hand. I focused on the ceeren that had reached the rails of the ship. Crackling, spitting light erupted from my fingertips, arcing in the space between me and the vessel and striking the ceeren as it launched itself over the railing.

  The wind picked up again, whipping at the edges of my blouse and dampening my face with mist from the sea as I searched for Casteel’s unique mark. Finding the lush scent of dark spices, pine, and winter citrus, I opened the notam to him as I sent a bolt of eather racing over the docks to take out another ceeren.

  This is Kolis’s vellá. His will, I told him, as a wave of new riders rose from the sea. A volley of arrows came down, less than half striking targets. I threw out my other hand as Casteel’s presence brushed my thoughts.

  Then, let’s show him what we think of his will.

  I smiled as the eather followed my will, erupting in a web that descended on the ceeren climbing the ship, shattering them instantaneously.

  The clang of a sword jerked my attention toward the city. Soldiers and guards met the ceeren in the streets in a clash of bloodstone against shadowstone, some on horseback and others on foot.

  I found Casteel in the chaos. It was impossible not to when he moved with such predatory grace, swiping a bloodstone sword through the bony leg of a seahorse whose rider had just struck down a guard. Casteel darted toward a low stone wall, jumped off it, and spun, driving the sword through the chest of a rider. He landed in a crouch, rising smoothly as his gaze connected with mine.

  He smirked, then spun on another rider.

  So damn arrogant.

  Not too far behind him was Kieran, wielding two swords. And on horseback was…Malik. He’d found a horse and, apparently, a weapon. I watched Casteel’s brother as I gave myself a moment for the essence to level out. I’d never seen him fight before. He charged down the narrow, steep streets, hovering over the saddle with knees locked tight on the horse’s flanks as he swept his sword in a brutal arc and cut down a rider. Movement near the bluff snatched my attention.

  My stomach tightened as Casteel rushed down the incline, jumping from the rocks. I immediately recognized Delano and the blackish-gray wolven beside him. Sage. She leaped in a blur of fur and muscle, slamming into a rider with bone-jarring force. I cringed as she sank her teeth into the thin strips of skin around the ceeren’s throat. That could not taste good.

  Lip curling, I started toward the wharf, knowing there would have to be fallen swords I could—

  The dock suddenly rattled, causing my heart to skip a beat. I took a step back as the sea started to froth, sending sprays of water across the wood. The planks splintered with a sharp crack. A bony hand broke through like something straight from a nightmare, clamping down on my ankle, its touch cold and slimy as it yanked hard. I swallowed a yelp as dull pain shot up my leg. I lost my footing on the water-slick wood and went down hard on my back as another fist punched through the dock, splitting the boards. The whole structure shuddered and groaned as cracks raced across the space between the two hands. The ceeren’s head and shoulders burst through, and clumps of matted hair and seaweed clung to its skull as it snapped up. I couldn’t tell if it was male or female, but there was no flesh on its torso, and I could see straight into the hollow cavity of its rib cage. But it had lips and eyes—eyes that were vast and as black as an abyss except for the center that burned with the crimson glow of Death. The lips peeled back, baring jagged teeth a Craven would be envious of as it lifted its lower half from the hole.

  The ceeren laughed, the sound thick and wet as it spewed brackish water that smelled like a foul mixture of something sickly sweet and rotted fish.

  “I’m going to vomit,” I whispered, the bile building in the back of my throat as I unsheathed my shadowstone dagger.

  The laughing stopped, and it cocked its head.

  “Right in your face,” I finished, jerking upward as I thrust the blade into its chest.

  Bones—soft bones—cracked a second before the ceeren shattered into repulsive-smelling ash.

  Gagging, I started to rise just as the entire dock heaved, the planks buckling. Seawater exploded upward in a towering spray of foam as a ceeren erupted from the water. Another appeared behind it, coming down on the dock and causing the structure to dip.

  “Shit,” I hissed as I started to slide.

  Twisting sideways, I grabbed a board. The last thing I needed was to fall into the water. My fingers curled around the rough plank as a ceeren reached for me. I swung out with the blade, catching it in the side of its neck. As it broke apart, a hand gripped my calf and pulled. Muscles screamed in my arm and side as the dock heaved and sank. Water rushed over my legs as the ceeren used me to climb its disgusting—

  The scent of citrus and snow enveloped me as a bloodstone sword arced above my head, slicing through the ceeren’s neck.

  “Are you trying to take a swim?” Casteel put an arm under mine and hauled me from the water. “Or are you trying to play with dead things?”

  “Neither,” I gasped, once more on my feet and racing back toward the shore. “Thank you.”

  Giving me a wink over his shoulder, he grabbed my hand and picked up speed as the dock collapsed behind us. For once, I kept up with him.

  The moment we reached the wharf, we spun back to the pier and watched it fall into the water—the violently churning water. Narrow geysers appeared as the sea seemed to spew forth creatures from its very depths. Ceeren came ashore all along the coast—not dozens but hundreds of them, either swarming the ships or emerging from the sea on horseback.

  “Fuck,” Casteel muttered, yanking me to his side as we turned back to the city.

  I saw Kieran knock a rider from its saddle. Naill was on the street with him, Emil on horseback nearby. Malik was closer, along the lower streets, his jaw hard as he lifted his sword and used his knees to urge the horse forward. Delano and Sage were behind him, the larger white wolven casting worried glances in our direction before a rider cut off my view. I turned my attention to the remaining piers. A sickening knot of dread balled in my stomach. The ceeren had swamped two more ships farther down the dock. And the riders…

  They were everywhere. Six circled us, the hooves of their horses cracking the wood.

  I snapped forward, driving my dagger into a seahorse’s chest. It’s dead. It’s already dead, I kept reminding myself as Casteel took care of the rider.

  “I really wish you’d grabbed a sword,” Casteel commented as he decapitated the beast. “So you wouldn’t have to get so close.”

  I dipped under his arm and sprang up in front of the fallen rider. It swung its sickle blade as my eyes locked with its pitch-black ones—

  A faint glow sparked within, silver with the faintest hint of crimson.

  Kolis.

  Every part of my being knew he was staring back at me.

  The rider jerked its sword back, leaving itself wide open. I sprang forward, shoving my dagger into its chest.

  I spun as Casteel slid under a rider, splitting the seahorse across its belly. My mind flashed to how the first wave of riders had run past me. How the ceeren had grabbed for me but hadn’t attacked.

  Just like the grul, once it tasted my blood.

  My heart thumped as the rider dropped to the ground. Our eyes met, and the same thing happened as before. Through the limp strands of its hair and seaweed, that glow ignited.

  “I see you,” I whispered, and Casteel turned in my direction. “I hope you feel this.”

  The glow turned pure crimson. Its mouth opened, revealing serrated teeth. “So’—”

  I shoved the dagger into its forehead. “Fuck off.”

  The ceeren splintered as my gaze lifted to Casteel’s. “Kolis,” I snarled. “He’s peeping through them.”

  Eather pulsed in his eyes, and his flesh thinned. Faint traces of shadows moved under his skin as he spun, driving both of his swords through the closest rider.

  Water sprayed, signaling another group of riders. I cursed and stepped back. A moment later, Casteel’s voice reached me through the notam.

  I don’t yet know if I can control the essence like you can. He leapt, twisting in the air as he sliced outward with both swords in a deadly arc, cutting down two riders with one fluid motion. And you just awakened.

  I knew what he was saying as I jumped off a pile to gain height, striking a rider as it came ashore. I couldn’t keep using the eather. It would weaken me. But as the ceeren riders raced across the shore, I didn’t think I had a choice.

  They weren’t heading for Wayfair’s open gates. They were going straight for the city, and the outer walls along that portion weren’t taller than a home. They would be no obstacle. They’d reach the most heavily populated section of Lowertown first, where the fishers and tradesmen lived, the one where the homes were tiny but bursting with families—people who were too young or old to run. And if they made it past there? Dear gods. They’d swarm Croft’s Cross and the Garden District.