“Let’s go. We’ll have to chance the storm, but it seems to have let up some.” Camille headed toward the palace, trying to avoid the pieces of debris that could cut her feet if she stepped wrong.

We ran through the darkness, past bodies charred by fire, hit by shrapnel. Everywhere, the screams of the injured rang out and my heart ached because there was nothing we could do for them. We ran through the hail of lightning bolts, the ravages of the magical thunder, skirting trees, skirting debris, skirting chunks of marble and stone that had been blasted when the palace went down. The sky lit the night brighter than the moon ever could, but even so, the storm was moving to the west, moving away.

By the time we reached the palace, the strikes were few and far between. I looked around nervously, wondering where the sorcerers actually were. Surely they weren’t around the corner. They had no need to put themselves directly in the line of fire—magic traveled across long distances. And why not send in the grunts first, to take care of those left standing? Which meant, chances were that before morning a contingent of mercenaries would show up on the outskirts of the Elfin city. They’d want to get in before Y’Elestrial or Dahnsburg could send help.

Camille shouted and leaned on my shoulder, raising her foot. She yanked out a sliver of glass and tossed it to the side. “I need shoes.”

I let out a long breath. “Yeah. Hold on.”

There were several corpses near us and I shivered as I approached them. This was so surreal that I barely knew what I was feeling. But one of them—a woman, who had been struck by a piece of granite, had feet near Camille’s size. And she was wearing a pair of leather moccasins. I quickly, silently, yanked them off her feet and without looking at the dead woman’s face, handed them to Camille. She said nothing, looking mutely at me. But she put them on and we continued on to the palace.

The steps were broken, but still accessible in some places. The tons of stone and alabaster, of metal and wood that sprawled before us were daunting. Smoke filled the air from the still-burning fires, and dust hung heavy, choking us as we neared the shattered palace. Up was down, front was back, and it was hard to remember where anything had been.

Trenyth led us on, as we approached the behemoth that had been Asteria’s pristine court. Camille was crying, but her tears were silent and slowly ran down her face as she shook her head.

Trenyth’s lips were pressed together, as he grimly assessed the area. After a moment, he pointed to the left. “That way.”

And we were off.

Making our way through the rubble was a nightmare. So many death traps, so many blockades. Here a body, there a body. A pile of what was once a royal statue, now ground to rubble and ash. Skirt a fire that burned brightly, showing no sign of stopping—and don’t look because the fuel may just be a pile of corpses. The scent of burning stone, the scent of burning flesh. The greasy feel to the air because so much soot was flying loose. A bonfire to rival all bonfires, a testament to destruction and death, to hatred and greed. And there, to the right, that had been the throne room . . .

Trenyth stopped suddenly, and looked to what appeared to be the shattered remnants of the throne room. It was buried under the rubble, under the fallen roof. If there had been anyone in there, they had to be dead. And Queen Asteria had been there, waiting for us. Her body was now entombed in a thousand tons of stone. After a moment, he turned back to our path and we moved onward.

“Here,” he said after a long while of edging around piles of debris. “I believe . . . this should be where we turned off to head down to the quarters containing the seers.”

We slowly approached what would have been the entrance, but now it was buried under a pile of stone and wood. And there was no way in.

“Fuck.” Camille stared at the barred entrance.

“I echo the sentiment.” I shook my head. “What now? What the hell do we do? How do we . . . I’m so lost here, I can’t even begin to see the light of day.”

Trenyth sucked in a deep breath. “I am going to tell the two of you what to do and I want you to obey me. Do you hear? I am acting head of Elqaneve for now.”

Both Camille and I mutely nodded. We knew when were in over our heads and Trenyth needed our cooperation. He’d been through battles before, and we—we’d never come close to experiencing something on this scale.

“You are going to return to Y’Elestrial and contact Tanaquar.” A cloud passed over his face.

“We can talk to our father while we’re there,” I said. “He’ll be able to help somehow.” Even as I said it, I knew how lame it sounded.

“Girls . . .” Trenyth shifted uncomfortably. “Your father . . . he . . .” He paused and we read the story on his face.

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. If you don’t say it, it’s not real.

Camille let out a little cry and her hand flew to her mouth as she turned to him. “He’s here. Isn’t he? He came to meet with us. He was waiting for us, wasn’t he? With Queen Asteria, in the throne room.”

Trenyth nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

A sucker punch to the gut and we were down for the count. But the night had numbed me so hard, so far, that the shock of the news washed like water on a duck’s back, rolled over me and off again. Camille’s tears stopped and she stood there, mute.

I was the first to find my voice. “If Menolly and the others survived, surely they would think of heading to Y’Elestrial. And remember, Shade can transport through the Ionyc Sea. He could have . . .” I let the thought drift off.

“You’re right of course,” Camille said, her voice so soft it was barely a whisper. “We’d better get to the portals before the armies come in. Because you know they’ve got to have a force marching this way. Trenyth, come with us?”

He shook his head. “I cannot. I will find someone to take you to the portals, though. It’s likely to be dangerous on the roads.” At my pleading look, he rested a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Delilah, you know that I would go if I could, but I’m in command here. And the Keraastar Knights are scattered—if we don’t find them and get them away from here, Telazhar will have a damned good chance of getting the rest of the spirit seals before the week is up.”

I nodded. “Yes. Yes . . . we’ll go now, then. Who can we take with us?”

“Wait here.” Trenyth hurried off, and Camille and I stood, hand in hand, mute. There was nothing much we could say. Within moments, he was back with a guard in hand. “Take them to the portals leading to Y’Elestrial and make certain they get through. Do you understand?”

The elf, his uniform torn and blackened from the soot, nodded. “With my life, Liege.”

“Good, because their lives may depend on yours. And if they die and you live, your life will be forfeit. They are that important.”

Not even looking fazed, the guard simply nodded and then, silently, he led us out of the palace, and we were off and away into the night.

• • •

The journey to the portals was devastating in itself. Elqaneve lay in ruins, the city ablaze with fires that burned too bright to be sparked from normal lightning. Everywhere, houses were razed, forest was burning, and people were dead or dying. Those who seemed unharmed sat in shock, or milled aimlessly. We passed through them, silent and without trying to help. There was nothing we could do. Nothing we could say. They did not stop us, nor try to speak.

And so we made our way to the Barrow Mounds, still no sign of invasion, but my intuition told me it would happen soon. The guards were at their posts, but they quickly told the one leading us that they had barred anyone from entering or leaving through the portals. I didn’t hear what he said to them—my mind was churning on overload, and Camille was just as quiet.

Within minutes, however, we were hustled toward the portal pointing to Y’Elestrial, and then we were in, and a whirlwind later, we emerged into our home city.

As we exited the portal, the soft glow of eye catchers surrounded us, and the silence and sense of peace was palpable. It washed over us like a wave, and before I could help it, I was weeping, on my knees, exhaustion and despair my cloak. The guards took one look at us and rushed to our side. Camille sucked in a deep breath as they gathered around us.

“Elqaneve is fallen. We need to speak to Her Majesty immediately. We are His Lordship Sephreh ob Tanu’s daughters. Take us to her now.”

And without a question, without a protest, the guards swept us into a carriage, and we were on our way to the Court, under a night sky that was clear and crisp, and the only smell of smoke was from the hearth fires in the houses that we passed by.

• • •

We were escorted into a private chamber. The Court and Crown was far more ostentatious than Elqaneve could ever have hoped to be, but it still made me catch my breath when I saw it. After the destruction we’d witnessed, my cynicism seemed to have flown the coop. Camille and I walked into the room to find ourselves facing a mirror that spread across one entire wall. I stared at our reflections, only now realizing how we looked.

We were bruised and battered, black and blue over our arms and faces, with crusted blood here and there—whether it was our own, or from some stranger we touched, some body we brushed against, it was hard to tell. Soot stained our torn clothes, and my hair—blond and spiky—was streaked with it. Ash and dirt joined the mix. Camille looked down at her moccasins and let out a yelp. They were covered with blood. She yanked them off, but a quick look at her feet showed only minor cuts and scratches. We truly looked like we had emerged from a war zone.

A glance around the room showed no one else in attendance, but a tray with water and wine and fruit and cheese was prominently placed on a table. We sank onto the edge of one of the leather benches, and I was grateful that the material could be wiped clean. We wouldn’t stain the upholstery, at least.

In the back of my mind, I heard a cynical little voice say, “Who the fuck cares about upholstery?” but there was still a part of me that wanted to be polite.

Camille reached for a piece of cheese and a cracker. She glanced over at me. “I have no clue what we’re supposed to do now. We warn Tanaquar and then . . . what?”

“We could go out to Father’s house. See if Menolly is there.”

She nodded, eating slowly. “Good point.” But our talk was all so much chatter. I felt broken, frozen by a sense that the world had just crashed down. Humpty Dumpty fell off the wall, and we were staring at a pile of scrambled eggs on the sidewalk.

A moment later, the door opened and Tanaquar, Queen of Y’Elestrial, swept in. Tanaquar was tall, with hair the color of flames that fell to her waist. She was tanned, and her eyes glowed with a light mirroring the golden glow of the sun. Beautiful, she looked a lot like her sister—the Opium Eater, whom she deposed in a civil war not too long before. We had thought the destruction from that war horrendous, but it was nothing—nothing, in comparison to what we had just been through.

Tanaquar stared at us for a moment, then held up her hand when we started to rise in order to curtsey. “Stay your selves. There is no time for decorum now. My advisors are on the way in.” She paused. “You know your father was in Elqaneve.” By her tone, she knew we knew.

I nodded. “Yes. We do know. He’s missing.”

She merely waited until her flock of advisors joined her. They sat around us, in a half circle, three men and two women, as well as the Queen.

Sucking in a deep breath, I looked at Camille. And then, together, stumbling over events because they had become one big blur, we told them about the destruction of Elqaneve. When we finished, all the energy seemed to drain from me, and I leaned on the arm of the bench, exhausted.

“We’re missing Shade, Trillian, Chase, and Sharah, and . . . apparently, our father.” I stared at the Queen, unflinching. “Queen Asteria is dead.”

“And so . . . we are on the eve of war. And Elqaneve is fallen, and a reign that lasted thousands of years comes to a horrifying end.” Her voice was soft, but her words still pronounced the death knoll on the Elfin city. She turned to the man on her left. “We hold a treaty. Kelvashan is under siege and their capitol city, destroyed. Go now, marshal the army, and prepare to march in aid to to the elfin lands. We will use the military portals. There is no time to spare.”

At that moment, a messenger burst into the room. He skidded to one knee in front of Tanaquar. “Your Majesty, I bring news. A huge contingent of soldiers has been spotted marching on the road to Elqaneve. They came out of the Tygerian Mountains. They are armed and said to be at least a thousand strong. They have not reached Kelvashan yet but are expected to breech the borders by morning.”

Tanaquar turned to her advisors. “Go and prepare. Marshal the armies to begin leaving before the night is out. We must be there to meet the enemy.”

As they left the room, Tanaquar and her bodyguard alone remained. She waited till they were gone, then turned back to us. “So, my friends . . . I can offer no solace except that we will do what we can. Telazhar cannot capture the spirit seals. The danger grows with every hour.”

“We will go in search of them, Your Majesty.” A familiar voice echoed through the room and we turned.

Trillian was standing there, along with Smoky, Shade, and Rozurial. Trillian looked banged up pretty bad, but he was alive. Camille let out a little cry and ran over to him, throwing herself into his arms. He kissed her, pressing his lips to her hair, her face, her neck.

“Menolly? Chase and Sharah . . . are they all right?” Her voice was shaking now, and I was as afraid to hear the answer as she was.

Trillian nodded. “Yes, my love. They’re all right, though Sharah went into labor.”