It led her through winding closes as labyrinthine as the palace halls. They entered one of the multistoried buildings. This one was more derelict than most, with half the stairwell crumbled away and the upper floors inaccessible. Or so she assumed.

Imogen swallowed a startled gasp as invisible hands lifted and carried her upward. The vaporous mist surged over her legs and waist, enveloping her in an icy embrace before setting her down in the topmost room. Just as quickly it rolled back toward the door, pausing only a moment for Gruah to materialize once more and make a gesture that could only be interpreted as an imperative “Stay here.”

It slid out the door, disappearing from view. Unless someone possessed the ability to leap nearly two stories to the nearest stair, Imogen remained out of reach. Likewise, unless she wanted to fall two stories, she was effectively trapped.

She ran to the window and nearly cried out at the scene before her. At this height, she had a clear view of the city gates. The bridge had reappeared, stretching across the empty space between the cliff walls. Horses and mounted riders thundered across the span, armor flashing in the sun. Concealed by the mist but clear to her from this side of the gorge, Cededa waited in the center of the massive courtyard just inside the city gates, a solitary defender against impossible numbers. His chainmail shone a dull silver in the morning light, and he leaned on his glaive with all the casualness of a man about to greet an old comrade instead of a hostile force.

The invaders galloped through the gates, and Cededa transformed into a shrieking demon of slicing blades and fury. Bile rose in her throat when he swung the glaive in a back swing. The curved hook behind the blade caught the metal collar of a soldier’s armor, yanking the man off his horse and peeling his hauberk off him like an orange rind. Merciless, ruthless and giving no quarter, Cededa brought the glaive down and was instantly doused in blood.

Sickened and horrified by the growing slaughter, Imogen didn’t notice when the door behind her opened and a silent figure crept in. Her only warning came too late—the scrape of a sole on the dusty floor. She turned in time to catch a glimpse of a man’s gaunt, vulpine face before he struck her with a gloved fist. Black stars exploded behind her eyes, and she saw nothing else.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX