2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

“Run home. Now.”
That was the final order—and his good-bye as he shot into the sky after the Attor, who
had already disappeared into the screaming streets.
Around me, hole after hole was punched through that red shield, those winged creatures
pouring in, dumping the Hybern soldiers they had carried across the sea.
Soldiers of every shape and size—lesser faeries.
The golden queen’s gaping mouth was opening and closing like a fish on land. Save her,
help her—
My blood. I could—
I took a step. Her body slumped.
And from wherever in me that power originated, I felt her death whisper past.
The screams, the beating wings, the whoosh and thud of arrows erupted in the sudden
silence.
I ran. I ran for my side of the Sidra, for the town house. I didn’t trust myself to winnow
—could barely think around the panic barking through my head. I had minutes, perhaps,
before they hit my street. Minutes to get there and bring as many inside with me as I
could. The house was warded. No one would get in, not even these things.
Faeries were rushing past, racing for shelter, for friends and family. I hit the end of the
bridge, the steep hills rising up—
Hybern soldiers were already atop the hill, at the two Palaces, laughing at the screams,
the pleading as they broke into buildings, dragging people out. Blood dribbled down the
cobblestones in little rivers.
They had done this. Those queens had … had given this city of art and music and food
over to these … monsters. The king must have used the Cauldron to break its wards.
A thunderous boom rocked the other side of the city, and I went down at the impact,
blades flying, hands ripping open on the cobblestones. I whirled toward the river,
scrambling up, lunging for my weapons.
Cassian and Azriel were both in the skies now. And where they flew, those winged
creatures died. Arrows of red and blue light shot from them, and those shields—
Twin shields of red and blue merged, sizzling, and slammed into the rest of the aerial
forces. Flesh and wings tore, bone melted—
Until hands encased in stone tumbled from the sky. Only hands. Clattering on rooftops,
splashing into the river. All that was left of them—what two Illyrian warriors had worked
their way around.
But there were countless more who had already landed. Too many. Roofs were
wrenched apart, doors shattered, screaming rising and then silenced—
This was not an attack to sack the city. It was an extermination.