The finch on Wynter’s shoulder flies off in an explosion of terror. Wynter’s horror mounts, her wings contracting as Fallon’s sadistic brother Damion Bane lands his dragon beside Fallon’s and several Alfsigr Marfoir Elf assassins scuttle in behind them.

The Amaz archers aim their bows at the Mages, the line of soldiers behind them hoisting axes and blades and swords.

As one, the Marfoir turn to look at Wynter through grayed, insectile eyes.

A dizzying fright stiffens her wings. Because not only is Valasca in the grip of these fiends...each Marfoir is dragging a net filled with Shadow-gagged Amaz women and children, little Pyrgo, the Icaral child Wynter has grown close to, crammed in among them.

Pyrgo’s adoptive mother, the huge rose-hued warrior Alcippe, lets out a growling cry. Hoisting her axe, she lunges toward the shield, a murderous look on her rune-tattooed face. But she skids to a halt just inside its edge, and Wynter realizes that Alcippe must be rapidly assembling the same thought as Wynter’s own.

The Mages don’t realize they’ve caught an Icaral child.

Because if they did, her wings would have already been torn from her body.

A gut-clenching panic for Pyrgo grips Wynter as she notes the child is blessedly cloaked and sandwiched between two of Amazakaraan’s healers, the women’s arms protectively tight around her, her wings well hidden.

Wynter looks at Fallon, barely able to breathe as she forcibly pushes Pyrgo from her thoughts, terrified that Vogel might sense the child’s presence through his Zalyn’or link.

Fallon sets her frigid green gaze on the queen. “I command you, Queen Alkaia, to surrender both yourself and these lands to the Holy Magedom of Gardneria.”

Queen Alkaia’s shrewd eyes flick over the Amaz crammed into the Shadow nets, then toward the crowd of her people bottlenecked at the Queenhall’s subland entrance. Wynter’s heart patters against her ribs, fast as hummingbird wings.

Queen Alkaia lifts her chin, facing Fallon down. “Unbind my people and allow them to leave for the East and I will surrender both myself and our land to you.”

“No, my queen! No!” Valasca cries from her branch cage as a collective shock wave blasts through the assembled Amaz. Imploring, defiant calls rise in a multitude of languages from civilians and soldiers alike, including the netted Amaz.

“Blessed Mother, no!”

“Do not surrender to them!”

“We’ll die for you!”

Fallon’s lips twitch as she looks Queen Alkaia over, as if sizing up insignificant prey. The Queen’s Guard soldiers surge toward their queen, weapons raised, Amaz civilians hurling out defiant curses toward the Mage and Marfoir forces.

Queen Alkaia raises a silencing palm and the vengeful cries die down, though Amaz fury burns like incandescent fire on the air. The queen surveys her people, adoration filling her eyes.