Page 139 of Sands of Atonement

Targon, who knew everything there is to know about the Atrove. Their old leader was back. Could Targon have possibly been following the Atrove instead of the other way around? Deceiving my men? He would be the only one with the power to do so. He was their past leader. Most likely, he was smarter than they were. But why would he be following them—or Amr?

Maybe to get to me.

No, no, none of this made sense.

“Why were you here, Amr?” I whispered in the darkness. Just then, I began to search his dead body for any sort of sign.

And then I saw it. It was right there, as clear as daylight.

Amr’s chest was slashed in a circle and one large gash diagonally. No more Atrovian.

This was what the leader did to those who betrayed them. I’d only had to do this once.

But Amr didn’t betray me. He⁠—

No.

No, no, no.

He was here. Targon was here.

Fucking hell.

Targon killed Amr because he was loyal to me.

“No,” I bellowed.

I have never run faster back to Eshe than I did now, with a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other.

My legs burned, and I was out of breath when the building appeared before me. Time was getting slower, like in my nightmares. I couldn’t run fast enough to her.

I jumped the last three steps and barged through the doors. I was met with a blinding metal sword swinging down toward me.

Lifting my arm, I shoved my sword, gliding against it. With a kick into the sternum, I shoved the man stumbling down.

I took a step back.

Atrovian robes. Four, seven—no, ten of my men swarmed through, attacking my servants.

They were an attacking fringe of the Atrove, clearly loyal to Targon. Amr had come to warn me.

Without wasting a beat, I brought down my wrath, slashing, cutting, and stabbing the men who betrayed my trust. My brother appeared by my side. Thank God I trained him years ago. I prepared him better and trained him longer than I did my own men.

Ethan and my other servants did what they could, but I could already see the bodies piling on the floor.

Blood began painting these dark, marbled floors.

I roared as I slid under my third traitor’s jaw and slammed a boot into his face, ripping my sword from his skull. Casimir took a second sword from the man he had just killed, swinging it around. He had no fear.

He slid his eyes toward me for a split second.

He didn’t know these men were once mine.

One of the traitors thrust a dagger toward Casimir, and I lunged for him. I tackled him down, tumbling onto the slippery marble floor with him. A split second went by before I plunged my dagger into his face, over and over again. I screamed into his empty eyes before I jumped up.

Six more men. Possibly more.

Piercing pain flared into my side as I fell onto the floor. My jaw smashed into the marble, but I twisted my body in time to miss another strike. The side of my core gushed blood. I barely had time to attack when I lunged back to my feet and shoved my long blade at the incoming relentless traitors.