A wisp of invisible fabric slid across her face, and in astonishment, she froze and watched as necks were broken, throats were slit, intestines oozed forth, and bodies dropped all about them.

Suddenly, there was nothing but stillness and the only living creature standing on the ground was Gal.

And then, six flashes of lightning struck the road before them, these happening on a blustery, but clear and sunny day.

From these strikes formed four men and two women.

On their chests, they had metal shields that sparkled in the sun. Layered leather armor cupping their shoulders and going down their upper arms. Aprons flowing out from under their heavy weapons belts. These were red with yellow and orange markings on them: a face with hair that was flame around which curved a dragon. Plated forearm shields. Extremely long-bladed, bloodied swords in hands and double quivers filled with arrows at their backs. Thick scarves were bunched and coiled about their necks. Their black hair swept back from widows’ peaks and fell long past their shoulders.

And their red trimmed in orange mantles were drifting lazily in the breeze.

As one, they planted the points of their swords in the dirt of the road, hands one folded atop the other at the crest of ornate silver hilts.

And each fell to a knee with bowed heads.

After but a moment, one of the women lifted her head, her eyes pinned to Chu.

“My king,” she said.

Oh dear, I thought.

“What the hell?” Brix demanded.

“Shite,” Chu whispered.

King Aramus

MAR-EL

They had received Magnus’s bird.

The raven had come direct to him with the dire message.

And if Aramus lived beyond that day, he vowed never to tell a soul, except (perhaps) her, that when he sighted his queen galloping toward him, his relief was so great, he nearly fell off his horse.

“What the fuck is happening?” Cassius demanded, reining in Caelus so tightly, his mount’s head arced to the side, his front hooves came up from the earth, and his hind end shunted around to accommodate his body’s movements.

“They have an army,” Mars reported.

“How do they have a gods-damned bloody army?” Cassius asked. “And who the fuck are they?” he went on, jerking his head toward a cadre of the party they’d greeted.

“They’re Mystics,” Serena answered, explaining the four men and two women on steeds adorned with scalloped red bunting along their reins and long blankets over their rumps, the flesh of the horses so elegant, Aramus would be sending ships to that continent to procure some.

If, again, he lived beyond that day.

“I can see they’re Mystics,” Cass bit out.

“They’re Mystics?” Elena asked, her emphasis drawing Aramus and Cass’s attention.

“You know about this?” Cass asked her.