Chapter 27

With her arms shackled behind her back, Ursula followed the guards back into the amphitheater. Bael walked grimly by her side, and she could almost feel the rage curling off his body. On his golden throne, Lucius sat in the shadows with Excalibur resting on his knees. It looked so wrong there in his lap, and its steel blade called to her, like a child who needed his mother. If her hands weren’t bound behind her back, she’d have snatched the fucking thing from him.

Across from him on the stone benches, the captive women huddled next to each other. Ursula caught Cera’s eye, and she heaved a sigh of relief. But Zee was nowhere to be seen.

Ursula glanced at the central dais. The dragon’s carcass had been removed, and hastily arranged carpets now covered the stone. Still, blood and bile from the dragon seeped through the fabric, and the room smelled of death. If she’d come here on her own—if she hadn’t needed to worry about Zee and Cera—perhaps none of this would be happening. If Lucius hadn’t been able to use them as leverage, she’d never have given up the sword. They’d been her weakness.

Lucius quirked a smile. “The Darkling, and the Lord of Abelda. How intriguing.” He crooked a finger. “Come closer.”

Ignoring him, Ursula stood right where she was. Bael didn’t make a move, either.

Lucius’s expression darkened, and he cleared his throat, then frowned at one of the guards. “Gaderian, King Midac is late. Go above and check that he hasn’t gotten lost.”

At the mention of King Midac’s name, Ursula heard a low growl rise from Bael’s throat, nearly imperceptible.

The guard’s footsteps echoed off the room as he crossed to the passage at the other end of the chamber. With a sharp crack of elongating bone and the scrape of burgeoning scales, he transformed into a dragon. His green, scaly body disappeared into the tunnel.

Lucius glared at Ursula, his fingertips lazily stroking Excalibur. The gesture was borderline obscene. “The king of Acidale will decide your fate. He has been looking for you for a long time, Darkling.”

A million questions raced through Ursula’s mind. “What does the king of Acidale want from me?”

Lucius shrugged. “I imagine it’s because of the powerful magic that lives within him. But I am only his servant.”

“His servant?”

“It is my sworn duty to protect Mount Acidale and to obey its king.”

“And what about Excalibur?” Ursula stared at the blade, her body aching to snatch it from him. “I thought the one who yielded it was the Darkling, according to the prophecy.” She closed her eyes, recalling Merlin’s words.

“The end starts when magic thickens the air,

The lost, as if unburied from the soil

Uncovered from the dankest roots of oaks.

Darkling, remember. Will you ring death knells

for Mount Acidale, kingdom of fire?

“The sword was lost. The Darkling gets the sword, and rings the death knell for Mount Acidale. You appear to have the sword. You are capable of wielding it, and I have no intention of destroying anything. If anyone is the Darkling, it’s you.”

“The sword is safe with me. I will keep it from the dark one’s grasp.” Lucius’s eyes blazed as he looked at Ursula, until a commotion by the tunnel broke his gaze.

A pair of heralds in gold-accented crimson doublets strode into the room, blowing a short fanfare on brass trumpets. Lowering their trumpets, they shouted in unison, “Please bow for His Royal Highness, King Midac of Mount Acidale.”

They stepped to the side, and eight men entered, carrying a litter on their shoulders. It was painted blood-red and embellished with gold leaf. Seated on a chair in the center was a thin man with a long, brown beard, which he stroked with bony fingers. A robe, embroidered with gleaming, colored gems, covered his thin frame. At the sight of him, her heart began to race.

Lucius had risen from his throne. Before the king had come in, he’d hidden Excalibur somewhere, and Ursula yearned to see it again. What the hell had he done with it?

Lucius bowed deeply. “Welcome, your Highness.”

Ignoring him, King Midac flicked his long fingers. “Bring me closer.”

The men, dressed in simple black clothing, moved slowly under his weight, until they stopped about halfway down.

Slowly, King Midac’s gaze swerved to Ursula. A long, pointed tongue darted out, and he licked his lips. “Is this the girl? Come closer, girl.” Venom laced his voice.

From behind, a guard pushed her forward, and Bael snarled. She peered up at the king, at his giant cheekbones and the ruddy skin that nearly matched his robe. He squinted at her, knitting his overgrown, curling eyebrows. “You are Ursula?”

She studied him, her pulse racing. He knows more about me than I do. He was the king of the land where she was born. For reasons she didn’t understand, she was important to him—and most disturbingly of all, something about him seemed eerily familiar. A warmth that radiated from his skin. She stepped back involuntarily. Emerazel’s fire.

The king grinned, exposing long, widely spaced teeth. “You can sense my power, can’t you? The fire flows in my veins, just as it does in yours. Is it true that you now work for the Goddess of Fire?”

She straightened. “I am a hellhound, bound to collect the souls of those who’ve made a pact with Emerazel.”

“Excellent. You will return with me and teach me what you know.”

What?“So... this isn’t about me being the Darkling?”

“No.”

The king glared at the Drake. “Bring the sword to me, as well.”

Lucius inhaled sharply. “The sword?”

“Don’t play games with me, Lucius. I know you recovered Excalibur.”

Lucius paled, then slunk back to the throne. His body trembled as he bent down and picked up the sword from the ground. Slowly Lucius drew the blade, his hand shaking.

“Bring it here.” The king’s voice boomed.

“How did you know I had the sword?”

The king chuckled, a dry, rough sound. “I’m not going to take it from you, Lucius. I merely wanted to see it.”

Relief washed over Lucius’s face, and he sheathed the sword again. As he did, a dragon’s shriek echoed off the stone walls. Ursula whirled. From the mouth of the tunnel, a dragon’s head rolled into the room, blood spewing from its severed neck. What the fuck is going on?

Immediately, hooded figures stalked from the tunnel, moving with a preternatural grace that seemed oddly familiar. Ursula didn’t have time to study them closely, because Lucius charged past, knocking her to the ground.

And that’s when all hell broke loose. The dragon guards transformed with the snapping of bones, the growing of scales. King Midac’s chair-bearers nearly dropped him, and the captive models screamed, running around the room.

With her hands still bound behind her back, Ursula rose. Icy fear licked up her spine as a new figure walked into the room, his body shrouded in dark magic. She knew that magic, that power. With the enormous, leathery wings cascading through the haze of shadow magic, there was no mistaking Abrax in all his demonic glory. Abrax, demigod, son of the God of Night. Abrax—the powerful incubus who wanted her dead. Or worse.

The shadows thinned around him, and his pale eyes pierced the dim light. “I’ve come for the girl.”

Bael stepped forward, his body taut with fury. “I have claimed her, as you know.”

Abrax’s eyes turned to Bael, his eyes blazing with pale light.

“I said, bring me the girl!” Abrax’s voice echoed off the hall.

Two guards grabbed her by the arms, their fingers digging into her flesh as they dragged her forward. Abrax’s lips curled in a smile. “Then kill the Lord of Abelda.”

The men behind Abrax threw back their hoods, revealing the blank, gray, featureless faces of golems. Just as they rushed for Ursula, two of the dragons lunged for them, swiping at them with their claws.

Bael’s voice boomed from behind her, “Run!”

Ursula swung her body, freeing herself from the guards. She kicked hard, taking out one of them, then she ran for Bael. Just as she was about to reach him, tendrils of shadow lashed out and wrapped themselves around his chest.

Abrax landed next to him, his leathery wings outstretched. “Still hanging around with Emerazel’s cur. You have the most extraordinarily bad taste in women.”

Bael strained against his bonds, but they held him fast. Then Lucius stepped from the shadows.

“What are you doing here, Abrax?” asked the Drake.

“Taking what is mine,” Abrax growled.

“You want the Darkling?”

A ghost of a smile crossed Abrax’s lips. “Is that what you think? That Ursula is the Darkling?” He cocked his head. “Actually, I don’t really care what you think. It’s time for you to die, Lucius.”

Lucius shook his head slowly. “I’m not going to die.” He unsheathed Excalibur. With his eyes locked on Abrax, he slowly raised the blade. The hair on his head glowed brightly, like a lit torch, and a deep red flame began to flicker along the blade, covering his arm. Ursula sucked in a breath. Even Abrax would have trouble fighting a man ensconced in Excalibur’s armor.

In the next moment, he was grunting, his body hunching over as the blade disappeared underneath him. The hair on his head blazed red, and crimson scales sprouted from his skin. Claws grew from his fingers, and his body expanded. When he lifted his head, Ursula stared into the face of a dragon, its eyes glowing like embers.

Abrax flapped his wings, lifting into the air. “Kill the dragon!” he shouted at the golems.

The faceless creatures charged the Drake, leaping on him. They hacked at his scales with their knives, but their blows merely bounced off. In what seemed like slow motion, he twisted his neck, looking up at the ceiling, then opened his mouth to scream.

Only this time instead of a piercing shriek, a gout of orange flame raced into the air, pouring from the Drake’s throat in an unending stream. The golems leapt and tumbled to avoid the fire, and the room blazed with heat.

Bael growled, still bound by Abrax’s magical cords. Ursula turned to help him, but he shook his head. “Get out of here. Leave me. I’ll be fine.” Shadows darkened his eyes. “Now, Ursula!”

The flapping of wings turned Ursula’s head, and her world tilted as she looked up at Abrax in his terrifying demon form, with sharp, dark talons curling from his hands. Before she could run, he snatched her, lifting her up, his powerful wings beating the air.

“Ursula!” Bael’s voice echoed off the hall.

Fear raced up her spine as Abrax carried her higher, and she gaped at the chaos below her. The Drake and the other dragons battled the golems. King Midac’s litter lay smashed, surrounded by the bodies of his bearers. He’d disappeared, and a pentagram burned in the center of the wreckage. He escaped using Emerazel’s sigil.

And Bael—he still struggled on the floor. He’d ripped one arm free, and three golems surrounded him, knives drawn. Her heart climbed into her throat, and Abrax’s talons pierced her flesh under her ribs. He’s unarmed. Mortal. There is no way he’s going to survive this.

“Bael!” she shouted.

He looked up. If she wasn’t dangling in Abrax’s grasp she would have hit him. She’d seen that look before, the one that said I’ve accepted my fate. But this time, she thought he might be right.

Abrax leaned down, whispering in her ear. “How will it feel to watch your lover die?”

Ursula thrashed in his grip, but as she did, another figure rushed onto the stage—long legs moving in a torn black cocktail dress, pale hair streaming behind her. Cera. As she raced for Bael, she reached into her purse and pulled out a black ball. No, not a ball. An apple. The one filled with Bael’s shadow magic. What the hell? Hadn’t he said he couldn’t find it?

“Bael!” Cera shouted as she tossed the fruit to him. In his free hand, he caught it, and in a single motion brought it to his mouth, biting just as the golems leapt. As soon as the apple touched his mouth, his eyes blazed a deep red.

Abrax snarled, and shadow magic wrapped over Ursula’s head like a shroud.