Chapter 39

She had no time to correct her position as she smashed into the scaffolding. An audible crack sounded as her shoulder rammed a piece of wood. Blinding pain lanced through her, and she clawed for purchase on the scaffolding. But her hand wouldn’t work properly, and she slipped, plummeting toward the tiled lion mosaic of Bael’s atrium.

And yet as she hurtled toward the floor, the night wind whipping through her hair, she felt strangely at home—even in mid fall. Time seemed to slow down. She belonged in the air, in the darkness. As if she had phantom wings, she directed her fall—aiming for one of Abrax’s men to cushion her impact.

But before she could slam into him, a pair of strong arms caught her. With a shock of horror, she looked up into Abrax’s ice-cold eyes.

“That wasn’t very smart,” he said coolly. “Almost got yourself killed.”

He gripped her hard, his wings thumping the air, and he started to rise. Didn’t he know that getting this close to her was dangerous?

Fire kindled in Ursula’s blood, and as flames licked about her arms, Abrax’s face contorted with pain, his clothing burning. As he began to summon his own icy magic, she slammed Honjo’s hilt into his throat. A crack echoed over the atrium. She’d crushed his larynx.

The temperature in the room plummeted, and Abrax dropped her. She began to fall, this time tumbling awkwardly to the floor. She braced for impact when Bael slammed into her with a blur of shadows.

He knocked the breath from her lungs. Instead of splattering on the floor, they crashed onto a balcony. Flat on her back, Ursula groaned, as pain lanced through her injured shoulder. Her chest heaved as she sucked in air.

“Are you all right?” asked Bael.

Ursula grimaced. “That hurt my back. On the plus side, I managed to light Abrax on fire.”

“Can you stand?” Bael held out a hand.

Ursula grabbed it with her good hand, and he pulled her up.

“Where’s Abrax?” said Ursula, scanning the atrium. She smelled his burned flesh, but found no sign of him. “I crushed his larynx.” She smiled darkly. “He won’t be able to command his soldiers very well without a voice.”

Bael returned her smile. “Beautiful work.” He picked up Honjo from the floor and handed it to her. “He flew off after you injured him.”

For the first time, Ursula noticed the blood covering Bael’s body. “Are you okay?” she asked.

He looked down at himself. “Of course. None of this is mine. We should get out of here. Abrax will be back once he heals himself.”

By Bael’s side, she crossed to the balcony’s railing. Here, they were just one story above the atrium floor, and she peered over the side, staring at the oneiroi battling below them. Abrax’s horde had pushed Bael’s soldiers back, cramming them near the entrance to his chambers.

Without another word, Bael leapt over the balcony’s ledge, landing gracefully on the floor. He spun like a lethal gyre, his sword clearing a circle in the seething mass of oneiroi. Blood misted the air as his blade cut through his enemies.

“Jump. I’ll catch you,” he yelled.

Ursula rolled her eyes. She didn’t need him to catch her. She’d felt something earlier, the first time she was falling—a sense that she belonged in the air, that phantom wings could carry her. Ursula sucked in a breath, then she leapt, carefully directing her flight so she landed next to Bael.

She still gripped Honjo. “Thanks. I’m good.”

By Bael’s side, she sprang into action, carving her sword into Abrax’s oneiroi. Battle fury imbued her body, and she felt herself moving at the speed of a night wind, every footstep falling into the right place, every arc of her sword finding its mark in her enemy’s flesh. After Mount Acidale, she understood why. She’d been a warrior once—one of the king’s guard. Trained by her mother to fight. The muscle memory, the skill had never left her, and she felt completely herself as she carved her sword into her enemies. They pushed forward, swords clashing with Abrax’s men.

A scream pierced the air, and Ursula looked up. Abrax’s demonic form appeared above Bael’s fortifications. His army surged forward, crashing into Bael’s remaining force. Screams and blood filled the air as they fought.

By her side, Bael led the vanguard, fighting with a ferocious brutality. Shadow magic flowed about him like a midnight cloak as his blade carved through oneiroi and golem alike. Ursula moved with nearly the same speed, and she felt a similar dark magic whispering through her body.

More of Abrax’s forces poured in through the broken fortifications, but instead of leading them toward a possible exit, Bael led them toward the sheer cliff at the back of the manor—where the black onyx stone stood, protecting the entrance to his secret chambers. When he reached the stone, Bael put his shoulder against it. It rolled to the side.

“Inside,” he shouted.

The remaining allied oneiroi surged into the tunnel, and Ursula joined them.

Bael’s shout echoed off the wall, followed by a resounding clash of steel. Then, the stone rolled back in front of the entrance. For a moment, the interior of the tunnel was completely pitch black, until an orb sparked in the darkness. The oneiroi cheered reflexively, as light shone on Bael’s bloodied face.