Anger inflamed her cheeks. “I was about to die. And if you hadn’t noticed, I saved you from suffocating to death. If stabbing Nyxobas is what it took to save us both, then so be it. I owe him nothing. He might be your god, but he’s not mine.”
It took only a second for Bael to cross the carriage in a blur of black smoke. He boxed her in, one hand on either side of her head. “That’s right. You worship Emerazel, the wretched beast of hell. You have bathed in the fires of her evil heart.”
Anger simmered. She’d never had a choice in aligning with Emerazel—at least, not one she could remember. She lifted her legs, kicking him in the chest. He slammed against the other side of the carriage, emitting a low growl.
Ursula’s lips curled. She no longer had Emerazel’s fire in her veins, but her own rage blazed through her blood. “I do not worship Emerazel. I’m a pawn in the game of the gods. Like we all are. I don’t remember carving the mark in my chest, or why I thought it was a good idea, or anything about my life before three years ago.” She pulled down the shoulder of her dress. “The only thing I know is that this stupid scar is the worst mistake I ever made.” She yanked it up again. “I’m not Emerazel’s worshipper. I’m her slave, and I don’t know why. That’s the truth.”
Shadows still clouded his eyes, and his nostrils flared. His cold magic thrummed over her skin. “You don’t belong here. The god of night has asked me to protect you, but I hate this job with every fiber of my being. He’s making a mistake. As a fire demon, you’re naturally inclined to destroy Nyxobas. To destroy all of us. Tonight proves it. You do not deserve my protection.”
The coldness of his words pierced her chest.
Brilliant. Her only true ally here hated her. Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them away. I’m not going to cry in front of him. “I was about to die,” she said through clenched teeth, trying to gain mastery over herself.
“You could have thrown the knife at Bileth, the one whose magic assaulted you. But you’re Emerazel’s hound, and even without her fire, you are destined to fight the darkness. Her flames have tainted your soul.”
“It wasn’t like that.” She swallowed hard. It wasn’t like that, was it? She’d heard a voice in the back of her mind telling her to “kill the king.” Was it simple self-preservation, or the voice of Emerazel?
Flustered, she waved a hand. “I didn’t have a lot of time to think about the options. And it was eleven against one. If I weren’t a hellhound, you’d be thanking me right now.”
“But you are a hellhound. You don’t belong here. Every time I look at you, I’m reminded of the hell-beast and the evil that runs through your blood.”
“And Nyxobas isn’t evil?” Her fingernails dug into her palms. “Are you really that loyal to the god of night, so devoted you think there’s a vast difference between the gods of night and fire?”
He cut her a sharp look. “It’s not because of my loyalty to Nyxobas that I hate her.”
“Then what’s your deal?”
“Her mind has been twisted by the flames, and has been since the dawn of civilization. She is an abomination. I owe her vengeance, and I will not rest until I have ripped her heart from her chest.” The hatred in his eyes cut Ursula to the bone, warning her not to ask any more.
A pit opened in the hollow of her stomach. He hated Emerazel with a ferocity that literally chilled the air. And here she was—wearing Emerazel’s sigil on her skin. A hellhound, loyal to his nemesis. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so safe around Bael. He might be mortal, but he could still kill her.
Still, she knew how to handle men with rage problems. A year surrounded by drunks in her London bar had taught her how to manage that.
Stalling and distraction were her greatest assets.
She sighed, schooling her face to serenity, and drummed her fingernails. “So what happens now? What’s this trial all about, and the code of the warrior?”
His steely gaze met hers. “You’ve manage to buy yourself some time. But you should know you’ve made some dangerous enemies tonight. The pale one, Bileth, is a psychopath. And while Hothgar might look old, he is the most powerful of the lords. You humiliated him in front of Nyxobas. He will want revenge.” The ash-gray returned to his eyes.
“I thought you were the most powerful of the lords.”
A rueful smile curled his perfect lips. “Before I lost my wings, I was Nyxobas’s Sword. The leader of his legions, but now—” He coughed and Ursula saw him wipe blood from his lips. “I am still a warrior, but I am a mortal. A mortal’s power is not the same. Still, I will fight in the tournament. And I plan to win.”
“You certainly don’t lack for confidence.” And I hope to hell you’re right.
“I am the best fighter the world has ever known.” His pale eyes slid to the window again, the chiseled lines of his profile showing silver in the starlight.
She crossed her arms, sitting back in her seat. Biggest ego the world has ever known, too.
Chapter 12