Chapters (46)
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
Ahead of her, flames leaped from rooftops toward the sky. Buckets lay forgotten on the ground, the guards now desperately fighting off the invaders. In one square, a group of three demon cats and their riders faced off against a handful of soldiers. Kyra kept her head low and skirted past.
As she neared The Drunken Dog, the flames on either side of the street grew, and the smoke became so thick she had to duck low to keep from choking. Even though she stayed in the middle of the road, the heat from the fires on either side pressed down on her head and shoulders. She cast a hand over her face to block falling ashes and kept going. Finally, she passed through the heart of the blaze, and the angry flames gave way to burned-out ruins. A charred sign caught her eye and she skidded to a stop, lungs burning. Half the letters were reduced to charcoal, but the sign unmistakably belonged to the bakery a few stores past The Drunken Dog.
How could she have run right past the inn and not noticed? A voice in her head whispered a reason she didn’t want to hear. Kyra retraced her steps, unwilling to believe it, but there was no denying the sight that greeted her. Charred posts marked where the walls of the tavern used to be, surrounding a blackened floor. Fallen timbers and boards, all that was left of the second floor and roof, lay in piles on the ground. It was all destroyed: the dining room, Bella’s kitchen, everything.
Kyra clasped her hand to her mouth, silencing the cry that rose up in her throat. She rushed in, ignoring the precariously hanging timbers. Smoke made her eyes water, and splinters, still warm, threatened to puncture the leather soles of her shoes. Still, she dashed from room to room, scouring the ruins. The building was destroyed, but there were no bodies. Kyra stopped. No bodies. They might have escaped.
She ran outside and scanned the street. The Drunken Dog was so close to the center of the attack. Could anyone possibly have made it out safely? Her eyes fell on the one structure still standing: the stone market building. Shapes were visible through the windows, and they weren’t dressed like Demon Riders. Kyra dashed for the door and almost impaled herself on a sword. A Red Shield blocked her way.
“I’m looking for my family,” she said.
She must not have looked like a Demon Rider, because he moved aside. “Get in, quickly.”