Chapter 17

They crossed through the doorway and into a courtyard of tall grass. A small stone hut stood at the far end, and a large oak stump jutted from the center of the yard, its surface deeply scratched. It looked like what a woodsman might use for chopping firewood—except that a deep red blotch stained the surface. The hair rose on the back of Ursula’s neck.

Bael stiffened as a man stepped from the door of the hut, stopping immediately outside the rickety building. At the sight of him, an icy jolt of fear raced down Ursula’s spine. He wore pitch-black armor and gripped a massive battle-axe. The knight stood ramrod straight—didn’t so much as twitch. If Ursula hadn’t just seen him step out of the hut, she might have mistaken him for a statue.

Bael unsheathed his sword, stepping forward. “I am Bael, Lord of Albelda.”

Almost imperceptibly, the knight nodded. With a creak of iron, his helm turned to Ursula.

She took a deep breath, “I am Ursula. Hound of Emerazel.”

The knight nodded. He spoke, his voice dry and raspy, like his larynx was made of sandpaper. “Two contestants, unusual. I am Balach, protector of Camelot.”

Ursula jumped when he walked swiftly toward the oak stump, moving faster than should have been possible in the heavy armor. Rearing back his arm, he slammed the head of the axe into the wood, the crack echoing across the courtyard. “Only those who accept my challenge may proceed to the chasm.”

Bael raised his face. “What is your challenge, Knight?”

“I won’t tell you that until you accept.”

This isn’t good.Ursula touched Bael’s arm. “Don’t do it.”

Bael bowed his head slightly. “I accept.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Balach stood stiffly, hands tight on his battle-axe. Ursula could feel the fear prickling along her limbs. Run away, it seemed to be telling her.

Whatever was about to happen, it wouldn’t be good. Maybe she could stall long enough for Bael to reconsider.

She raised a hand. “Before you start, I have a question. Has a man named Kester been here, by any chance?”

“The names of the challengers are not important to me. Either accept, or leave.”

Bael glared at her, gray eyes burning. He obviously wanted her to accept, yet there was something about the knight that warned her away. He moved too little, then too fast. Then there was his broken voice. Why do I feel like I’m signing my own death warrant?

And yet—she trusted Bael. She didn’t know why—he told her nothing, and maybe he was the Darkling himself. But she trusted him with her life.

She took a deep breath. “I accept.”

With a jerk, Balach pulled the axe from the stump. He flipped it around, so the handle faced them.

“Excellent,” he said, his voice pure gravel. “The task is simple. I will choose one of you to take this axe and strike a blow. A strike of the axe, through another person’s neck.” He pointed to the blood-stained stump. “There. When the first person has finished, the other will strike the last person standing.” Balach paused to let his words to sink in. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” said Bael.

Ursula was trying to work out the logistics in her mind, but she was pretty sure there was no way she and Bael were both getting out alive if they truly agreed to the terms.

Balach nodded. “The lady goes first.”

Before Ursula could protest, Balach moved swiftly forward, thrusting the axe handle into her hands. She examined the blade—it was razor sharp, but poorly weighted. Ursula had a sinking feel that ‘former Ursula’—the Ursula she had been before she lost her memory—had never wielded an axe.

“You must choose,” said the knight. “Choose who you want to strike.”

Darkling or not, she wasn’t going to strike Bael with an axe. What the hell was he playing at? Once she struck clear through Balach’s neck, they’d simply move on. Right? She pointed the axe at Balach. “I choose you.”

The knight nodded, then knelt in the grass with a great groan of iron. Slowly he lowered his head until it rested on the surface of the stump. Bloody hell. He’s serious about this.

She gripped the axe’s handle. “Do you really want me to do this?”

The knight simply lay there, his head on the stump.

“You must strike a blow,” said Bael.

This is super fucked up.She slowly raised the axe above her head, her arms straining at the weight. The axe hung heavy in her hands, and her heart raced.

“Do it,” Bael urged.

Her heart thudded in her skull, booming like the beats of a war drum. Thud. Thud. Thud. A cold sweat broke out over her skin as she lifted the axe high above her head, then brought it down hard, striking the knight in the back of his neck. The steel blade tore through his armor, flesh, and bone, and buried itself in the wood. A spray of blood arced into the air, and in what seemed like slow motion, the knight’s head rolled to the side and onto the ground. Blood pumped from his severed neck, and his body jerked and twitched on the ground.

Ursula’s stomach lurched. “Gods below.” Dropping the bloodied axe, she bent over on her hands, dry-heaving. This hadn’t been like killing one of Hothgar’s demons in close combat. The demons had been actively trying to kill her in battle. It had felt natural. This had been entirely different—an execution. She gagged again, her stomach rebelling.

Bael peered down at her. “Are you quite done?”

Ursula rose on unsteady legs, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. I’ve never executed someone. At least, not that I can remember.” Blood stained her dress. “So, what? Do we go now?”

Bael picked up the axe from the ground. “Go?”

Ursula’s pulse raced. “Why are you picking that up? He’s dead. Let’s get out of here.”

Bael gripped the axe, a glacial look in his gray eyes. Dark shadows whorled off his body, and he looked every inch an angel of death—a dark demon of the night realm. The Darkling, perhaps. What did he have in mind?

Ursula swallowed hard. “I mean, the knight is dead. We can go now.”

“No,” said Bael with brutal finality. “You gave your word. We must pass this task to go on to the Lady of the Lake.”

He took a step closer, jaw clenching.

Her pulse racing, Ursula scanned the yard. She needed a weapon ASAP. Bael’s bastard sword lay on the stones by his feet. Apparently sensing her interest in the weapon, he kicked it across the yard. Fuck.

Bael’s expression softened, and he put down the axe. “Trust me. I won’t hurt you. I thought you’d know that by now.”

Her heart pounded against her ribs. “Really? Because it sort of seems like you intend to hack off my head.”

“I’m not going to kill you. I claimed you by the Lacus Mortis,” he said fiercely, “and I’m pledged to protect you.”

Did he really take all that seriously? He couldn’t think they were engaged. They hardly knew each other. “You agreed to cut off the head off whomever survived, and you appear to be holding an axe.”

“You need to trust me. It may sting a little, but I won’t kill you.” He crossed to her, grabbing her around the waist, and pulled her to him, gazing down into her eyes. He cupped the small of her back, letting his thumb stroke lazily up and down her back, soothing her. At the same time, the feel of his powerful body against hers electrified her, and her breasts seemed to strain against her tight bodice. She slid her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him.

His sandalwood scent curling seductively around her, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips. This wasn’t like when he’d attacked her in Marazion—when he’d been drunk on the taste of her blood. This felt slow and sensual, his lips moving gently against hers, sending heat racing through her core. Gently, his tongue brushed against hers, and his fingers tightened on her back, possessive now. The kiss deepened, his powerful arms wrapped around her. When, at last, she broke away from him, his eyes were closed as if he were replaying the kiss in his mind.

When he opened his eyes again, he was studying her closely, as if trying to memorize every detail of her face. Once again, his thumb traced lazy strokes up and down her back. She couldn’t help but think of the time she’d sat on his lap on his onyx throne and he’d imbued her with magic, his hands hovering just above her thighs, but never touching her. She’d been desperate to feel his powerful hands on her bare skin, and that same, molten heat surged through her body now—until, with a jolt, she remembered the headless corpse lying at their feet.

Her body tensed again. Sort of a mood killer.

He leaned down, his breath warming the shell of her ear as he whispered, “I would not kill the one I claimed.” A heavy emotion tinged his voice. “As Lord of Albelda, you have my word. Please. Kneel.”

She’d already decided she trusted him, didn’t she? “Are you sure you can control that axe?”

“Trust me.”

Slowly, she knelt before the stump, resting her cheek on the bloody surface. She grimaced when her face pressed against the knight’s blood.

Bael’s footfalls sounded behind her. “It’s very important that you don’t move. Do not flinch.”

That’s reassuring.One little twitch, and she’d find herself decapitated. Closing her eyes, Ursula focused on keeping her body perfectly still, her muscles completely rigid. Her heart slammed against her ribs.

The sound of whooshing air punctuated the quiet, and a flash of pain seared the back of her neck. Ursula’s whole body tensed—and then it was over, the pain already subsiding. She opened her eyes. Blood dripped into her dress, but she seemed to be alive. She took a deep, shaky breath, lifting her head from the stump. “That hurt.” She touched the back of her neck, and a smear of blood came away on her hand.

“Only for a moment, though,” said Bael. “And we’ve completed the task. The knight never specified that the blow must be fatal.”

“Correct,” the black knight rasped. Ursula jumped as Balach climbed to his feet, holding his head, still encased in the iron helm. “You have both kept your word and proven honorable. You may continue on to the chasm.” Cupping his head under one arm, he extended his other. “My axe.”

Still shaking, Ursula remained on her knees, watching as Bael passed the axe to Balach. “Thank you for the challenge, Sir Balach.”

Without another word, the headless knight turned and walked back to his hut, his armor groaning and creaking.

Bael caught Ursula by the elbow, pulling her to her feet. “That was very brave of you.”

“I believed you when you said you wouldn’t hurt me.” She took a deep breath, searching his pale eyes. “When you said you were pledged to protect me by the Lacus Mortis, I thought it was only for show. I mean, we’re not really engaged, surely—we don’t even know each other. Right?”

For just a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of pain flash in his eyes—and then it was gone. Standing this close to him she could sense the heat of his body. Instead of answering her question, he frowned at her neck, gently pulling her hair aside to examine it. “How does it feel?”

“It stings a little, but I’ll be okay.”

“Good.” Bael stepped away from her and picked up the bastard sword, striding to an arched doorway at the far end of the courtyard. “I believe we have another challenge awaiting us.”