Chapter 20
Ursula traced her fingertips over the ring in her cloak pocket, staring out the carriage window. They flew over the barren landscape—small oneiroi houses mixed with the remains of meteor impacts. Asta’s glow cast them in violet light, while above, clouds of moths swirled and danced. If she looked carefully, she could occasionally see the black form of a bat winging among them.
A bat among the moths.
On the other side of the carriage, Bael sat mute, his face fixed with a stony expression. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but she could guess. Since he was a gentleman—despite what the other women said—he was probably considering the most painless way to kill her in the melee. A quick slash of his sword through her neck, perhaps.
Her chest tightened. What I need is a plan.An escape route. A way to survive.
And if not, I need to know exactly what I’m up against.
“So how did you win it?” she asked.
Bael’s sapphire gaze slid to her. “Win what?”
“The tournament. When you became a lord, how did you do it?” Give me a bloody clue, at least.
A perplexed line appeared between his eyebrows. “I won by being the best fighter. And the strongest.”
Well, that’s unhelpful. “Can you, you know, provide some specifics? How did you survive the melee?”
“I killed any man who came near me.” His eyes were cold as glacier water. “The same way I will survive this one.”
“So you think you can kill him?”
“Him?”
“The man in gray. The one who killed Sallos.”
“Sallos was weak, and a fool. The stranger will be no match for me.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Even with your injuries?”
A muscle worked in his jaw. Even obliquely mentioning his lost wings seemed to set him off.
Time to change the subject. “Has anyone else ever survived? I mean, has there been more than one left alive at the end of a tournament?”
“You ask me if anyone has violated Nyxobas’s edict? No, the penalty of defying the god’s orders is death.”
“Hothgar set the rules.”
“Hothgar speaks for Nyxobas. It is the same punishment.” He turned back to the window, lost in his own thoughts.
She bit her lip. Hadn’t the wives said that Bael could use mind control on humans? And if so—did she count as a human? She didn’t have her demon magic here. If that were the case, he could just compel her to stab herself. The fight would be over.
“I guess the other women know I’m not here as your harlot now,” she muttered.
“What?” he snapped, suddenly alert.
“The lords’ wives believed that’s why I was here. A consolation prize for you. Apparently their husbands have some kinky desire to mind control human women. They were certain you were the same.”
He stared at her, his expression unreadable.
“Could you, if you wanted? Use mind control on me?”
“I won’t.”
She let out a long breath. “Okay, so that’s one of my fears allayed. But there’s the matter of me not having a weapon.”
Bael leaned forward in his chair and looked her straight in the face.
“I won’t control your mind. But it won’t matter. You are not going to survive this tournament, whether or not you have a sword.” His words slid through her bones. “If one of the other champions doesn’t kill you, I will.” He looked out the window again, his jaw clenched tight.
Descendingin the elevator should have come as a relief as Ursula neared the comfort of her quarters. But instead, with each passing level, it was as if an increasingly heavy weight pressed on her chest.
The full implications of her new role as Nyxobas’s champion were awful to contemplate. A fight to the death—one she had no chance of winning. In order to survive, she’d have to slaughter Cera’s brother, the stranger in gray, and a horde of lethal demons. If, by some miracle, none of them killed her, she’d have to face Bael, a twenty-two thousand-year-old demon.
Panic tightened its grip on her heart. I’m going to die in this barren place, my soul sent to the crushing isolation of Nyxobas’s void. For the rest of eternity. A painful ache gnawed at her chest.
When the elevator finally opened, she turned, heading away from her quarters. Clutching the silver ring in her pocket, she strode toward the water portal, where she’d first arrived. It’s time I get the fuck out of here. If Nyxobas wanted to kill her, he could do it in New York.
She pushed through the black door into the semicircular portal room, hurrying over to the portal. Starlight reflected off the water’s surface. She pulled off her cloak, dropping it on the floor. In the next second, she’d pulled off the dress and slipped off her knickers. The cold air in the portal room raised goosebumps on her skin, and her teeth chattered.
She kicked off her shoes. In a few moments, she’d be back in her flat. She’d call Zee and tell her the whole story over a bottle of wine. Then she’d call up Emerazel and explain the situation. The goddess would quickly realize that Nyxobas had been breaking their terms, and all would be settled. Emerazel hadn’t sent her here to die.
She dipped a toe into the frigid water, hugging herself for warmth. I just need the spell that Cera used...
Her stomach swooped. The Forgotten Arsholes ripped all the magical knowledge from my brain.
She clamped her eyes shut, trying to remember a single Angelic word.
Nothing.
She kicked the water in frustration, splashing the marble.
Behind her, a deep voice echoed off the ceiling. “What are you doing?”
Dread coiled around her. So much for my plan.
She looked over her shoulder. Bael stood in the doorway, completely avoiding looking at her.
“I was trying to escape. I’m sure you understand why, what with the certain death you promised me.”
“It won’t work.”
“I know. Those stupid Forgotten Twats stole all my magical knowledge.”
“It wouldn’t matter if you remembered the spell. The spell requires Nyxobas’s permission. No one enters or leaves the Shadow Realm without his approval.”
She took a deep breath, teeth chattering. Bollocks. No escape. Grief welled in her chest, and she choked down a sob. Maybe all the lords’ wives thought she was a whore, but she had some dignity. She wasn’t going stand here naked and sobbing in front of Bael.
She would stand there naked and sniffling though, apparently. “Why has everything been forgiven with Abrax? He tried to overthrow the entire Shadow Realm. He’s the whole reason you’re in this predicament.”
“He is Nyxobas’s son. And the god respects brutality. Abrax demonstrated plenty of that when he tried to overthrow the kingdom.”
“So that’s it? It was violent enough that Nyxobas isn’t mad anymore?”
She heard a long exhale from Bael. “That, and I think Nyxobas feels guilty for what he did to his son.”
A shiver made its way up her spine. “What did he do?”
“It’s not important right now. I can hear your teeth chattering.”
“I’m going to put on my dress.”
“That’s for the best.”
She leaned over, snatching the dress from the ground. “I suppose you still won’t tell me anything about the opponents we must face, because my death is certain anyway.”
“The man in gray,” he said. “He may be someone known as the Gray Ghost.”
“Gray Ghost?”
“No one knows who he is. Only that he rides a white bat.”
Still shivering, she turned to face Bael. “The man who broke the window. He was riding a white bat.” She bit her lip. “Pretty sure he was wearing gray, too.”
He stared at her. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“I didn’t know it was important.”
“Every detail is important.”
She glanced down at her dress, torn at the hem by the Gray Ghost. She’d ruined every dress Cera had given her.
At the thought of Cera, a lump rose in her throat. “We need to tell Cera about Massu.”
“I was on my way to tell her when I saw you.”
“Sorry about the...the nudity.” She had no idea why she felt the need to apologize.
Bael slipped back into the shadows. “Return to your quarters at once. You’ll be warm and safe there. At least, until the melee.”