He responded immediately, our blades meeting, each clash more vicious than the last. He was bigger, stronger; I was faster. Still, he kept pace. My body crumpled beneath his blows and the force it required to deflect them. It took all my focus—but I remained perpetually aware of Raihn out of the corner of my eye, crumpled on the ground. When he slowly pushed himself up, I breathed a sigh of relief.
For a split second, before Simon was on me again.
My muscles screamed. His magic rivaled mine, even as my Nightfire poured from my skin, surrounding us. The burns didn’t seem to bother him, not even when the flames ate away at the delicate flesh around his mouth and eyes. He just stared through them, and smiled.
An empty smile. A dead smile.
I couldn’t remember when his first hit was—my side, perhaps, making me stumble just enough to make it difficult to evade his next lunge. When I looked up again to see his sword raised, I thought, This is it. The end.
Just as a streak of black-red came hurling in from his left side, sword drawn.
Raihn threw himself at Simon, the two of them tangling in a dance of destruction.
I hadn’t been able to hear anything over the violence and my own breath and heartbeat throbbing in my ears. But as I steadied myself, I chanced a glance down below—to the city of Sivrinaj.
It was a bloodbath.
Our opponents had been holding back. Now the full numbers of Bloodborn forces poured from the castle grounds, seeping through the city streets like a wave of fire. Ketura’s men had been beaten back, the squeals of dying demons drowning beneath the screams of dying vampires. Jesmine’s forces had risen from the tunnels, only to be met with a formidable force that was expecting them, and far outnumbered them.
And Simon—and whatever terrible, twisted magic he wielded—hadn’t even made it down there, yet.
We were fucked.
We were utterly fucked.
We needed to retreat. We needed to retreat now.
Raihn had seen what I did, or maybe the dawning horror on my face told him everything he needed to know.
When I launched myself back at Simon, he rasped out, “Go.”
The one word he could choke out.
I knew what he meant: Go to the armies. Go lead them away.
I didn’t even consider it.
We had only one shot at salvaging this, and that was by killing Simon here and now. I wasn’t going to run away. I wasn’t going to leave this man here to keep my throne and this twisted power he’d gotten from my father’s magic.
I’d had enough. My entire life, these people thought they could take everything from me.
And the thought of ceding one more single second to them enraged me.
My heartbeat throbbed in my ears, hot beneath my skin.
This is my kingdom, Vincent whispered, the words pulsing through my skin, my veins, my heart. This is my castle. Do not let anyone take it from me.
Mine, my heartbeat echoed.
This was mine.
I would not let anyone take it away. And I sure as fuck wasn’t going to let them kill Raihn to do it.
Raihn whirled around as more Rishan soldiers ran from the castle doors, surging for him—distracting him in this critical moment.
Not me. I barely noticed them.
I let my rage blind me, drive me, drown me as I threw myself at Simon.
My awareness narrowed to the satisfying sensation of my blade parting Simon’s flesh, the Nightfire swelling and overtaking my body, my magic flourishing in the depths of my uncontrollable rage.
Simon actually flinched, his body lurching.
Someone laughed and it took a few seconds to realize that it had been me. My cheeks split with a smile as he straightened and faced me, all that terrible power focused only in one spot.
I wasn’t afraid.
We lunged at the same time, our weapons meeting again, each blow unrelenting. At first, I was lost in the intoxicating haze of vengeance, and I loved it, each wound a shot of alcohol, an unnatural high.
But Simon didn’t let up.
Raihn, surrounded by Rishan soldiers, was not coming to help me.
And Simon just kept coming, and coming, and coming.
The first little nagging shard of fear came when he struck me so hard I thought I felt something crack when I blocked his weapon. The pain shot through me in a lightning bolt, stealing my breath.
No time to recover, though. No time to counter.
Because the onslaught continued, that one devastating strike turning to two, three. Soon I couldn’t do more than evade, block, stumble backwards to get my footing— But I’d been knocked off balance. And I had no time to regain it.
The realization that I was fucked was slow and certain.
He opened a wound on my shoulder, my arm, my hip. Each one came with a breathtaking stab of pain, deeper than flesh. His magic, that red, noxious smoke, surrounded us both. The twisted creation in his chest pulsed unnaturally.
I could feel Vincent’s cold rage, his need for dominance, thrashing inside me, but it had nowhere to go. The magic of the Taker of Hearts was powerful, but it wasn’t as strong as whatever Simon had done to himself.
I leapt backward in a dodge and found myself against the balcony railing. Fuck. Nowhere left to go.
A hot breeze surged, blowing my hair back and yanking strands of Simon’s from its binding, making him look even more monstrous as he loomed over me, a bloody smile spreading over his lips.
Behind him, Raihn’s eyes locked onto me, as he cut through one Rishan soldier, two— He wouldn’t be fast enough.
Mother, I was going to die.
But, oh, what a death it will be.
I wondered if it was Vincent’s voice, or mine.
Simon reached out and touched my face, turning it toward his, as if in curiosity.
His smile soured.
“Just a human,” he said. “That’s all.”
A fighter’s death, I promised myself, as Simon raised his sword, and I raised mine.
His strike was devastating.
A burst of magic blinded me. A deafening crack left my ears ringing. Something sharp flew back against me, opening little cuts in my cheeks, my arms.
I barely felt them, because the pain was everywhere.
Simon had staggered backwards, doubled over, but it was too late.
I was falling, too. My body went over the railing in what felt like slow motion. The last thing I saw was Raihn, his eyes wide and terrified, as he yanked his sword from a body and ran for me— He looked so, so scared.
I reached for him, but I was already falling.
Worlds blended together in my weightlessness.
In one world, I couldn’t hear anything over the sound of screams and explosions and desperate commands.
In another, I could hear nothing but my father’s voice from an old memory. Could feel nothing but his grip, so firm it hurt—but then again, that was Vincent’s love, hidden in sharp edges and always just as painful.
I told you not to climb that high, he said, voice harsh. How many times have I told you, you can’t do that?
I know, I wanted to say. I’m sorry. You were right.
“Oraya!”
Raihn’s scream cleaved through the air, even through the sounds of a kingdom falling. I forced my eyes open to see smears of blurring color.
He was diving down after me, wings spread, covered in blood, a single hand reaching out for me.
Something about this image looked so familiar, and then it clicked—the painting of the Rishan man falling, one hand outstretched. I’d always thought he was reaching for the gods.
He was reaching for me.
Everything went black.
60
RAIHN