Lord Bileth turned, striding out of the room.
Ursula was just about ready to vomit her mushroom soup all over the table. Maybe I’m not really cut out to be a warrior. She didn’t want to live in a world where fathers smashed in their sons’ skulls.
Trying to calm herself, she rubbed the silver ring between her fingers.
After a long pause, the hall erupted with thunderous applause. The stranger bowed deeply.
And when the hall quieted again, Hothgar spoke. “Congratulations. May you fight well in the melee.”
The stranger in gray nodded. Without saying another word, he turned and left. As he disappeared through the doors, the hall erupted into a chorus of chatter.
Next to her, Ursula heard Viking say, “I’d like to change my bid—”
At the table of the lords, Hothgar banged his gavel. Around him, the demon lords called for order. Hothgar stood until it was quiet enough to speak.
“I’m glad you all enjoyed the unexpected show, but we have more champions to present. Who will be the champion for the Legion of Abrax?”
Abrax rose. His icy gaze flicked to Ursula for a moment before he spoke. “I nominate Massu from my legion.”
Ursula’s throat went dry. Massu. Cera’s brother. The little boy with the spaceship drawings, who always wanted to be a lord.
On the plus side, she hadn’t killed him.
On the downside, one of these champions certainly would.
As the hall waited, a tiny oneiroi man entered the hall. Dressed in tight leather armor, he carried no weapon. As he walked, he drew his lips back in a snarl, revealing his razor-sharp teeth. His whole body twitched with nervous energy.
Hothgar pointed. “What in the seven hells is that?”
Abrax folded his hands behind his head. “My champion.”
“He’s an oneiroi,” shouted Hothgar. “He cannot be a lord.”
Abrax shrugged. “That is not an actual law, I think you’ll find. Merely tradition. And you know how I feel about tradition.” He leaned forward, his glacial gaze on the oneiroi. “Show them what you can do, Massu.”
Massu leapt on Sallos’s body. With a quick flip of his head, he ripped the skin from the Sallos’s chest.
Around Ursula, the women gasped.
“Oh my,” said Goth Princess.
Massu held the flesh between his teeth, bowing deeply.
Bile climbed up Ursula’s throat. So much for the sweet little boy.
“So be it,” said Hothgar. He stared at the oneiroi soldier. “Congratulations, Massu. May Nyxobas grant you strength.”
Hothgar had begun to lift his gavel when Bael rose.
“I would like to present a champion,” said Bael, his voice booming off the ceiling.
Ursula took in his massive form, his perfect, chiseled features. He was powerful. She knew that. But she didn’t want him anywhere near these maniacs.
“Right, I almost forgot.” Contempt laced Hothgar’s voice. “Who will fight for the house of Albelda?”
Bael’s looked out at the crowd. “I will be defend Albelda myself. And I will win.”
“Congratulations, Bael.” Hothgar waved a dismissive hand. “May Nyxobas grant you the strength of a warrior.” He mumbled the last part.
“He already has.” Bael returned to his seat.
Ursula sipped her champagne, and Hothgar called upon one lord after another to nominate their second set of champions. By the time the lords had moved on to the fifth round of selections, Ursula had a pretty good buzz going.
Finally, Hothgar banged his gavel to signal the end of the ceremony. His voice boomed, “The champions have been chosen. There will be three trials: a melee, a race, and the duels. The melee begins when the sun sets at the Lacus Mortis, in nine hours. The challengers will fight until less than half remain.”
Bloody hell.
Around Ursula, the women clapped, and cheers filled the hall. The lords rose, smiling and clapping one another on the back. Except for Bael, who stood to the side, his expression grim. Ursula shivered. My fate is now truly in his hands.
She rubbed her arms. Even with a buzz from the champagne, the hall was freezing—shadow demons didn’t seem to care for heat.
Just as she was about to rise, she noticed that the hall had quieted again, and the air around her thinned. She glanced at the women, who all stared straight at the dais. At Nyxobas. Suddenly, she felt completely sober.
The chill in the room deepened. Shadow magic whorled from the god, and a hollow ache rose in Ursula’s chest.
Slowly, the god opened his eyes. They shone a bright silver now. As Ursula stared at him, she could feel the void calling to her. She felt as if she was standing at the edge of a precipice, gazing into a dark abyss.
She closed her eyes for a moment, and a vision rose in her mind. She stood at the edge of the void, her body trembling with fear. But what scared her wasn’t that she was going to fall in.
What scared her was that she wanted to jump.