WHAM!
The entire doorframe shuddered as the candelabra’s base struck the doors just above their knobs. Fifteen guards exchanged surprised looks.
“One. Two. Three.”
WHAM!
The doors jumped. The splintering sound from the other side had been much louder that time. Even before Akella started counting again, Linna knew the third strike would break whatever barricaded the door on the other side.
“One. Two. Three.”
WHAM!
One of the two doors cracked open, but at a strange angle. The top hinge had broken free from the frame. Akella let go of the candelabra and slammed the heel of her boot into the crookedly opened door. Linna tossed the iron candelabra behind her like a discarded child’s toy, and a group of guards jumped out of the way as it clattered to the stone floor. Another kick from Akella and the opening was wide enough for the two of them to push through. Ignoring the guards crowded around them, Akella wriggled through the opening, Linna following right behind.
Furniture had been stacked against the doors. Upholstered chairs, end tables, and more candelabras tumbled to the ground as Akella and Linna forced their way into the sitting room. Akella shoved something large out of the way, its feet scraping against the polished wooden floor, and Linna realized it was the Empress’s vanity.
“Get away!” the Empress cried from somewhere within the rooms. “You’re not yourself!”
Linna sprinted through the sitting room towards the voice. The door to the Empress’s bedchamber was half open, and a figure, backlit by morning light streaming in through the large bay window, sauntered past.
Ammanta. Linna nearly called her name, but stopped herself at the last second. Ammanta was the one who was not herself.
Linna entered the Empress’s bedchamber as Ammanta – or, more likely, Brother Rennus skinwalking as Ammanta – lifted her Fesulian long knife towards the Empress, who was backed against a wall. She was already hurt, Linna realized in horror. The Empress clutched her sides, where red soaked her sleeping gown in several places. Ammanta was bleeding, too, but the wounds looked more superficial.
“No!” Linna screamed as Ammanta brought the knife down.
The shout was enough. The downward arc of the knife hesitated for a split second as Linna’s voice echoed through the room. The weakened Empress shoved at her adversary and took a step in Linna’s direction. But Ammanta seized the Empress’s wrist before she could get away, yanking her back towards the wall. The knife came down again, shining like molten silver as it caught the morning sun.
Years of pretending to be an acrobat paid off. Linna rushed forward, executing a perfect dive-roll at Ammanta’s ankles. But even though Ammanta might be controlled by Rennus, her body must have retained some memory of her elite Fesulian training, because she leaped out of the way the moment before Linna collided with her. The Fesulian warrior caught a glancing blow, but it wasn’t enough to knock her down the way Linna had intended.
It was enough, however, to spare the Empress’s life. The Empress broke free of Ammanta’s grasp as Ammanta spun towards Linna.
“You,” Ammanta breathed – and was it only Linna’s imagination, or was there a trace of Brother Rennus beneath her Fesulian accent? “You’re supposed to be a captive by now.”
“Except I’m not.”
With a growl, Ammanta chopped the knife downwards towards Linna, who was still at the Fesulian’s feet. Thanks to skills honed by countless hours of training and reflexes bolstered by the elixir, Linna managed to draw her sword and parry at the last moment.
“You will not touch her!” the Empress roared. She had a rune-marked dagger in her hand, and it glowed softly.
The blade must think Ammanta is shadow-infected,Linna realized, glancing up at the silvery runes.
Before Linna could stop her, before she could explain that Ammanta was not possessed by a shadow but by Rennus, the Empress charged, slashing at the Fesulian. But the attack was no dance of the Seven Cities. It was desperate, reckless, the attack of a woman already doomed. Without even looking, Linna could tell the Empress’s footing was off. In a fair impression of wind through wheat, Rennus bent Ammanta’s supple body backwards, easily avoiding the Empress’s dagger. Then, like a stretched spring snapping back to its original form, the not-Ammanta whipped forward and drove the long knife directly into the Empress’s abdomen.