Chapter 11 · A Knife Under the Crown

The door slammed behind us, and Ronan dropped to one knee.

Not because he wanted to.

His hand hit the floor. Blood ran between his fingers and dripped onto the black stone. Nia grabbed my coat with both hands, her bruised wrists shaking against my ribs.

"Mara," Ronan said. "Get her out. Now."

"You first."

"I'm not the one who got stabbed twice."

"You took both blades for me."

"Yeah, and I'm starting to regret being generous."

He tried to stand. His leg buckled.

I caught him before his head hit the wall. The smell of burned iron and wolf blood punched through the archive dust. One of the curse blades had gone in below his ribs. The other had cut across his back, black magic crawling under his skin like thin, moving wires.

The royal archive groaned behind us.

The black door shuddered. Something on the other side dragged its nails across the metal.

Nia made a small sound.

Ronan looked at her. His face had gone gray, but his eyes were still sharp.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

Nia nodded too fast.

"Don't lie to me, kid."

"I can walk."

"Good. Stay behind Mara.