I was barely holding on, the knife in my hand making the grip awkward, but I managed to hoist myself up just in time. I whirled to find the water bull roaring closer, sea spray clouding in the air around him. Given his height, his chin would clear the platform, and he’d be able to pull me off with his teeth.
I took another step back. When I turned away from the bull to peer down the other side of the stage, my heart skipped a beat. Now, I had a view behind the wall.
We were at the top of a cliff, and the craggy shore was hundreds of feet beneath me. I stared down at the rough waves crashing against the rock.
On one side, a water bull was trying to kill me. On the other side, I faced a cliff.
My heart hammering, I inched away from the edge.
But the monster was at the stage, roaring—a low sound that tightened my stomach. Enraged, the glashtin began battering the wall with his shoulder. Despite looking like he was made of smoke, he was apparently very solid.
As he slammed into the platform, it felt like an earthquake beneath my feet. The columns on either side of me were shaking, torches rumbling from the force. I lost my balance and fell to the ground, my dagger slipping out of my fingers. It spun over the stone stage.
Fear shot through me, and I half wondered what the fuck Salem was doing—but I tried to keep my concentration.
I scrambled to my feet and snatched the dagger up just as the bull made a swing for me with his horned head. I lurched out of the way, nearly avoiding a goring. Its horn had caught on the hem of my dress, tearing it open.
I backed up against the column. The glashtin’s nostrils flared, and steam rose into the air.
I gripped my little dagger, scanning the world around me for something better I could use as a weapon.
Another slam of the glashtin had me steadying myself with an arm around the column. My heart thrumming, I shot another glance behind me at the cliff. My mind flickered with unwelcome images of the man I’d executed, broken on the rocks.
As I gripped the column tighter, I searched for Salem, desperate to know what he was about to do. He stood about forty feet away, as far off as could be.
He looked… bored.
He pulled his sword from its sheath, walking languidly toward the monster.
“Use your fire, Salem!” I shouted.
He didn’t react. In fact, it was like he didn’t even hear me, or didn’t care. Unnerving. I couldn’t see an ounce of fear in him, despite the fact that his mate was between a lethal monster and a lethal cliff.
The glashtin hammered the wall again, bits of stone breaking off. I hung on to that column for dear life, but it was crooked now. From one of the torches above, a bit of hot pitch fell onto my arm, burning my skin.
I glared at Salem. “I’ll handle this myself, shall I?” I shouted.
And I could handle this myself. Like Salem, there was a darkness in me—a wild will to live, vibrant as blood across pale skin. I’d kill to protect my kingdom, to protect myself, to save the weak. And I’d do it gladly.
So if Salem wasn’t going to help me, I’d take this monster down myself.
I glanced up at the burning torch, then shoved my dagger into it, heating the blade. I didn’t have fire magic, but I could at least make my dagger hot.
My brain whirred with calculations as I watched the bull battering the stage with one of its shoulders, desperate to reach me, steam billowing around it. I widened my stance for stability, one hand still heating the dagger. If this monster kept going, even the column would crumble down the steep cliff into the sea.
When I thought the blade was burning hot, I made my move, bounding across the stage. My blood pounded in my ears as I leapt for the bull’s back, frantically grasping for a good grip.
Instead of fur, its muscled body had a slimy texture, slick with seawater. I struggled to stay on, frantically grabbing for one of its horns. I had to act fast, or he’d throw me off in moments. Clenching my thighs, I gripped the beast as tightly as possible.
I’d been to the rodeo many times in Tennessee, but I never imagined I’d be a rodeo queen, and yet here I was…
He slammed me against the wall, crushing one of my legs against the rock.
I grunted with the pain, trying to block it out. In the hollows of my mind, a question rang: Where is Salem?
But if I thought about that for longer than a second, I’d die.
I slammed the heated blade into the back of the monster’s head, and it roared, rearing up on its hind legs. Gritting my teeth, I held on with everything I could, clinging with desperation to one of its horns.
I’d just speared its brain, hadn’t I? I was hoping that would do it.
Instead, the glashtin’s front legs crashed down to the ground, and it started running. I tightened my thighs around it. If I fell, I’d be trampled within moments. I was not letting go of its horn.
Thankfully, the bull started to slow down. I had a moment to think again. But he was trotting for the stage, and I was sure he’d crush me against it again it again.
In the worst situations, my thoughts crystallized. And right now, the guards’ words were replaying in my mind.
Its magic is so powerful that only the glashtin itself could kill itself.
Turning monsters suicidal wasn’t in my skill set, regrettably. If I could convince him to leap over the edge of this cliff, I would. Maybe if I had more time, singing Elvis’s entire discography song by song would persuade him to end it all.
But I only had seconds here, and I needed something fast.
Holding on as tight as I could while the creature bucked, I clutched the top of one of its metallic horns, then slashed my hot knife through the base of the silver. Just as I’d hoped, the fire I’d used to heat the knife had a powerful effect on the ice magic, and the blade went through the horn like it was butter, separating it from the bull’s head. I pulled off the severed horn. It felt ice-cold in my hand, vibrating with a frigid magic.
The bull reared in pain and flung me off into the icy seawater at the bottom of the pit. I slammed down hard into the shallow water, landing on my back. Still, I had the horn. As I sprang up to face the monster again, I found that the bastard was charging for me, smoke curling from its nostrils.
It was only moments away from me now. Already, the horn I’d cut was growing back, and I saw what the guards had talked about. Formed of dark magic, nothing could kill the glashtin—except itself.
It was only moments away from me now.
As it charged for me, I jumped out of the way and slammed the horn into its neck.
And with that, the monster stumbled.
With a dazed look in its eyes, he staggered a few steps forward. One more step, and he disappeared into a poof of cold silver smoke.
As the adrenaline drained from my body, I started to feel again. Pain screamed up my leg where the glashtin had slammed it against the rock.
With a shaking hand, I slid my knife back into my satchel. I looked up to where Lady Richelle sat in her throne, expected to see her disappointed. She’d wanted that thing to kill me, hadn’t she?
But no… she looked pleased with the situation. She still had that smug smile on her face.
Meanwhile, Salem was staring at me with what looked like cold calculation. His sword—Lightbringer—was still drawn. Why was his sword drawn when the monster was dead? He was prowling toward me in the water, eyes locked on me like a hunter sizing up his prey. He was looking at me like he hardly knew me, and like maybe that blade was destined for my throat.
Lady Richelle rose in her throne, clapping her hands. “You see, my people? The higher powers told me this fae whore would help us kill our monster. And she has, hasn’t she? I brought her to our court to serve our needs, just as she has been serving Salem’s. And now, you will see that I’m going to serve the rest of your needs.”
In the cold seawater, I caught my breath, trying to block out the pain in my leg. I took a step, backing away from Salem.
“What about S
alem’s curse?” I asked, my voice shaking. “You said if we killed the monster, you’d lift his curse. I thought you couldn’t lie.”
As Salem prowled closer, he cut his sword through the air, eyes locked on me with a wicked smile. And when his wings swooped out behind him, my stomach dropped. The moonlight silvered his powerful body, tinging his wings with pearly light. Why was he using his sword in that enraging, flashy style? Whipping it through the air like he was showing off?
Something was wrong.
Warning bells sounded in my mind, my primitive survival instinct telling me to run from him as fast as I could. I took another step back, trying to keep my weight on my good leg.
When flames ignited from Salem’s wings and in his eyes, all sense of hope dissolved. He sliced his sword through the air, arcing it back and forth in a wild display of his skill.
I winced at the sight of him, and my heart squeezed in my chest. It was almost like my brain couldn’t compute what was happening here, that Salem was now my enemy. And all I had was a little dagger.
And yet, somehow, that was exactly what was happening. He was stalking me with a lethal grace, and if I let myself plummet into the despair of pure betrayal, it would all be over for me.
I clenched the hilt of my dagger tight.
All that stuff about trust me, and have faith… it was all going up in smoke.
I thought he’d said something about how he could be dangerous to me… If he stayed here too long, he’d be the death of me. That couldn’t be right.
I pulled myself back another step, grimacing as pain rocketed up my leg.
I reached into my little leather satchel, pulling out the sea glass I’d hoped never to use. As I did, I kept my eyes on Salem.
Salem’s eyes were locked on me, his expression something like delighted malice. He was moving at a leisurely pace, a cruel smile on his beautiful lips. Overhead, storm clouds gathered. I half wondered if I’d manifested them myself, with the weak remnants of my water powers.
Another step back.
What exactly had Lady Richelle said? Salem had to kill “the monster that plagues us.” “The creature that stands in our way.”
The truth slammed into me like a fist. I was the thing that stood in their way.
I was Salem’s mate. With his curse, he couldn’t be king. And until he killed me, he’d remain cursed. In Lady Richelle’s eyes, I meant the ruination of their kingdom.
Tears stung my eyes. “I’m the monster, aren’t I?”
“Oh, at last she understands.”
At that point, the truth lodged in my brain like a flaming arrow. Maybe Salem didn’t want to be king here, but my life meant the destruction of his true destiny—to become a god.
I stumbled as I backed away from him. The pain of betrayal was splitting me open, making it hard for me to think straight. I’d believed him.
Richelle’s laughter pealed across the amphitheater. “Did you really think that a divine king would sacrifice everything for you? I could see you were his mate. I could see the bond between you. But it’s not enough, is it, Aenor? You spent more time in a dirt tunnel than you did as a noble. You’re not his equal. Not at all.”
Salem’s eyes burned with fire, and he tilted his chin down. “Sorry, swan. But I have a destiny far greater than you.” He lifted his arms to the skies. “You wouldn’t stand in the way of a divine being, would you?”
You absolute swine.
It was hard to think straight when you felt like your chest was splayed open, ribs exposed. I felt like someone had dropped me from a great height, shattering me. I couldn’t breathe. Magic crackled down my arm, weaker than it needed to be. My uncontrolled emotions raged, and the storm clouds now completely hid the moon. Fat droplets of rain started to fall, hammering down on the water.
Unfortunately, my Morgan powers would do nothing against Salem. He was immune to them.
I shot a panicked glance at the tunnel from which I’d come, wondering if my friendly guards would step in anytime soon, but I didn’t see them in there at all. Maybe the enchantment had worn off.
It wasn’t even that I wanted the guards to save me from dying. I’d faced death many times before. What I wanted them to protect me from was so much worse: betrayal by my mate. Because a sword could kill me, but the betrayal would truly destroy me before I even hit the ground.
Desperation cut through me. I was frantic to wake up from this nightmare. This was all wrong.
Salem stalked another step closer. He was swirling his sword around in mesmerizing arcs. Rain soaked his crisp white shirt, until I could see the thickly corded body beneath. I saw him for what he was now—an angelic warrior, full of godly wrath.
And the gods didn’t care for us. They never had.
Did you really think you were good enough for him?
I could barely breathe, my billowing rage suffocating me.
When Salem’s attention was rapt on me, it was like the light of a star beaming over me, warming me. And now, I felt like he’d dropped me into a dark pit, banishing me. I wanted to rip his heart out and throw it off the cliff.
My thoughts raced, out of control. I couldn’t move fast—not on my shattered leg.
“Salem.” My voice cracked when I said his name, and I hated that. I hated how weak I sounded, that I was pleading with him for my life.
No. I wouldn’t think of myself like that.
I wasn’t weak.
Mama had been a fanatic in a bloodstained dress, but she’d been right about some things. She had taught me to always rely on myself. To never expect anything from men, because they would break my heart, every time.
She hadn’t been wrong, had she?
That hatred in me started to morph into pure, cold wrath. Icy anger pounded in my blood where my magic should be, and my thoughts became clear. I gripped the sea glass hard, its surface smooth between my fingers.
The survivor in me roared as Salem took another step closer, his eyes alight. I was backed up against the curving wall now. I could hear Richelle bellowing above us, urging Salem to strike the blow that would kill me.
I clutched the shard, and when Salem’s blade swung for me, I ducked. I blocked out the pain in my leg and shifted closer to him from below. I was aiming near his heart with the sea glass, striking up—
His elbow smashed into my face, so hard it felt like my jaw cracked. I fell back hard against the wall, then slid into the water. Agony splintered my skull, the blow like lightning bolts where his elbow had made contact. I’d dropped the sea glass.
I’d been too slow on my injured leg, too sloppy. Frantic, I tried to search around the shallow water for the sea glass, my hands grasping at nothing.
But Salem’s sword was already at my throat, pressing against my jugular. He glared down at me with cold, divine judgment, the rain sliding down his skin. His eyes were the color of gloomy dusk.
My heart stopped. This was all wrong. Surely, this was all wrong.
My mate would end my life, and the world seemed to fall out from under me.
25
Aenor
Lightning flashed in the dark sky behind Salem, touching down on one of the shattered columns. Even in the rain, Salem’s wings burned with flames, and dark smoke curled into the air.
“A sacrifice!” Salem boomed. “To remove my curse.”
I was still dizzy from the blow to my temple, and his voice sounded strangely distant. Pain fogged my mind, but I couldn’t escape the sense of pure wrongness. Was this really Salem?
As soon as I started to stand, that sword would be in my neck.
Scanning my surroundings, I scrambled to make another plan. I was in the center of the semicircle. Where I’d fallen, I didn’t think Richelle could see me, because she was just above me.
Think.
Hard to think when the word betrayed sang in my mind, a forlorn requiem for our mating bond.
Rainwater slid down Salem’s sharp jaw line, and he wore an easy smile. Was this all a game to him?
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I could imagine how I looked to him—sick, with dark magic in my veins. My blue hair stuck to my head, my body battered from my fight with the bull. Cowering against a stone wall.
Aenor Dahut, Flayer of Skins, Scourge of the Wicked, did not cower.
My hand shot out, lightning-fast, and I swiped for his wrist. I carved sharply through his skin, and he dropped his sword in the water. I sprang up, slashing at his chest with the sea glass—but that fucking instinct stopped me again.
His hand shot out, catching my wrist in a crushing grip. He tightened his fist so hard that I thought he might break my bones, and I dropped to my knees again in the cold water.
My desire to protect him would be the death of me. Gods damn it.
“Aenor.” One of his eyebrows rose. “Did you think I’d give up the heavens for you?”
This was all so wrong. Wrong as the seas drying up and the sun going dark. Wrong as a corpse rotting on the wrong side of the wall.
Cold rain slammed into the water around me, sliding down my skin. For thousands of years, Salem had dreamt of becoming a god. And killing me was the only way he could get there. He’d spent millennia dreaming of his destiny in the skies again.
How much time had we spent together? A matter of days, no more.
And yet, still… It was like my brain was breaking, unable to believe what was happening. Salem wouldn’t do this. There was something I was forgetting, some reason I knew it to be true.
He was crushing my wrist, the one still holding the sea glass, but I kept my grip on it.
Then his other hand clamped around my throat, and he lifted me by the neck, slamming me back against the wall. He pressed against my throat, but not so hard I couldn’t breathe. My toes were still on the ground.
All he had to do was squeeze, or unleash his fire.
And yet…
He wasn’t doing it, was he? No, his muscles were starting to shake now, jaw clenched tight. It looked like he was fighting himself, and that smile was gone. Now, his eyes flashed with something like rage as he looked into my eyes. His wings were blazing with magical fire, bright flames in the gloom of the night. The scent of smoke and pomegranates coiled around me.
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