“Do you want some more?” he asked. “If only I could take my time with you. Really get to know your body with my blade.”
The tip of his sword twitched, and she jumped back. The demon laughed, his tongue flicking between elongated canines.
He pressed in on her, his blade extended. She faltered, stumbling back.
One thing was becoming clearer—her katana was a slashing weapon. It didn’t have the reach or precision of his rapier. If she fought on his terms, she’d loose.
The pointed tip of Bernajoux’s sword glinted in the pearly light. Still, the sides of the blade were dull.
Adrenaline raced through her body, lighting her muscles on fire. I need to get out of his reach. She needed to shadow run. Maybe she could get close enough to slash him with her katana, while avoiding the rapier.
She focused on a spot near him, letting the shadows gather within her. Riding on the wind, she raced forward—right into the tip of the rapier.
It felt like a punch to her stomach, but when she looked down, she saw the blade had pierced clean through her abdomen. Horror ripped her mind apart.
Bernajoux licked his lips. “Does that fill you up nicely? Want a bit more?”
Pain screamed through her gut, stealing her breath. She tried to breathe. I haven’t even managed to attack. This was a massacre.
She gripped her katana tighter, swinging for Bernajoux. She struck him hard in the side, just below his ribs. He screamed, losing the grip on his sword. He staggered back.
His sword still impaled her stomach, and Bernajoux was muttering in Angelic, trying to staunch the blood flow from his side.
She had to attack while he was still weakened. But first, she needed to get the godforsaken blade out of her gut.
Dropping her katana, she gripped the rapier in two hands, piercing her fingers. Gritting her teeth, she pulled the hilt away from her. Pain splintered through her.
With tears streaming from her eyes, she tugged on it again. With a final, agonized scream, she ripped it free. Just as Bernajoux finished the final words of the healing spell, she flung the sword away. It arced into the air in a whirl of blood and metal.
Too bad he doesn’t have a weapon.
“My blade!” Bernajoux screamed.
Hot blood poured from her stomach, but she kept her focus on him.
“Do you like that?” she snarled. “Do you want me to take my time with you?”
Bernajoux’s face twisted with rage, and he leapt for her. She jammed her katana up, piercing his throat. The attack speared his brainstem.
Bernajoux the Unvanquished no longer lived up to his name.
His body went limp, spasming as it fell to the ground. She pulled her sword from his neck.
Agony rippled down her body, and she glanced down at the wound in her gut. Staring at the pumping blood, her vision began to darken. The crowd’s frantic cheers sounded a million miles away.
A chill seeped into her bones, and it wasn’t shadow magic.
She fell back against the cold dirt, staring at the bright blue and green of the Earth. In the next moment, Bael’s face appeared, eclipsing the Earth. He lifted her in his arms, and she could smell the scent of sandalwood.
Chapter 45
Bael brushed his fingers over her cheek. “Ursula? I need you to wake up.”
She opened her eyes, blinking at the starlight. The Earth, nearly full, hung bright in the sky.
Her throat felt dry, her mind foggy. Around her, the crowd roared.
Hothgar’s voice cut the braying crowd like a foghorn.
I’m still here. Lacus Mortis.
She licked her lips, then swallowed. I need water. “What happened?”
“You slayed Bernajoux, but he injured you terribly. I healed you, but you missed an entire round.”
“Who fought?”
“The Gray Ghost and Chax of Azimeth.”
She was pretty sure she already knew the answer, but she asked anyway. “Who won?”
“The Gray Ghost.” He frowned. “I’ll be fighting next. I don’t expect it to last long. Will you be ready to fight after?”
No bloody way. “Of course.”
“Good. You fight the Gray Ghost—”
Hothgar’s voice cut him off, announcing his name. “I must go.” His pale gaze pierced her, and she watched as he rose, pulling on his silver helm. “You’ll be fine.”
She didn’t get a chance to ask him what exactly he knew about the Gray Ghost. As she pushed up onto her elbows, he was already walking toward the center of the arena.
Ursula rose unsteadily to watch the fight. She shot a nervous glance at the man next to her. Despite having already fought a battle, the Gray Ghost’s clothes still shone a pale gray, like the skin of a corpse.
A shudder crawled up her spine, and she turned her attention back to the duel. Inth—the knight—stood opposite Bael. He held a new, unbroken pole arm. His armor gleamed in the starry light, good as new. I guess I wasn’t the only one who’s been healed.