Chapter 25

Cera jumped to her feet the moment Ursula opened the door to her quarters. The oneiroi’s eyes were frantic, her question unspoken. Faint sunlight streamed through the darkened windows.

Ursula held up a hand. “He’s fine. Massu is fine. And so is Bael. We all made it.”

Cera dropped to her knees, clasping her hands together. “Thank the gods. I knew it would be okay, just for today.” She rose, her eyes wide. “Massu is entirely unharmed?”

“Not only unharmed, but he won the tournament. He killed five demons.”

Cera’s hand flew to her mouth. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I would never lie to you. He slew five with his bare hands.” With his teeth, really.

“Oh my gods. Oh my gods,” said Cera softly, kneading her hands. She paused, her eyes widening even further. “Bael fought well, too?”

“Yes, he’s fine,” said Ursula with a sigh. “Not a scratch on him. He moves like the wind.”

Cera dropped her face into her hands. With her face hidden, she could easily be mistaken for a child.

“What’s the matter?”

“I didn’t know who was going to open the door: you, milord, or someone else. If it had been another?—”

Ursula’s throat tightened. Any other demon would have killed you, wouldn’t he? Despite Bael’s warning, she couldn’t reconcile this sweet woman with the savagery she’d seen from Massu. Could Cera fight that way? It was hard to believe this little seamstress with her cardigans could eat a man’s flesh off his skull.

“Cera?” she asked tentatively. “Do all oneiroi fight with their teeth instead of weapons?”

“What?” Cera wiped a tear from her eye.

“Do oneiroi ever use swords or daggers?”

Cera’s brow furrowed. “Of course oneiroi use swords. Why would you ask that?”

“Your brother—” And frankly, all the other oneiroi I’ve ever battled. “Massu didn’t use his a sword. He used his teeth.”

“No.” Cera shook her head. “No. Don’t tell me that.”

Ursula’s blood chilled. “What’s wrong?”

“That way of fighting is forbidden. Those who taste the forbidden flesh turn into beasts. They become the Corrupted!”

Ursula’s mouth went dry. Abrax has apparently screwed up a whole lot of oneiroi.

Frantic, Cera gripped her hair. “Once an oneiroi starts, he can’t stop. The call of blood is too strong. Before Nyxobas arrived, the Corrupted were ostracized—sent to wander the wastes, where they fed upon each other like wild beasts.”

“What is the forbidden flesh?”

“Any raw meat. It only applies to oneiroi. It’s something in our nature. Eat too much meat, it changes us. Stokes a different kind of hunger. We become stronger, faster, and angrier, but at the cost of our minds.” Her lip curled back from her teeth. “I would murder Massu if he weren’t certain to die in the melee. He should have never allowed himself to become Corrupted.”

Given the ferocious look on Cera’s face, Ursula didn’t fancy Massu’s chances in a fight against his sister. Even if he’d won the tournament.

A knocking at the door interrupted them, and Cera hurried over to it. “Who is it?”

“Bael.” His voice boomed through the door.

Cera flung it open. Bael stood in the doorway in clean clothes that fit his muscular body perfectly. The lunar wind blew a tendril of hair in front of his eyes.

“Milord.” Cera bowed. “I’m so relieved you are unharmed.”

He nodded at her. “Thank you. I wish to speak to Ursula. Alone.”

“Yes, of course, milord.” Cera hurried from her quarters, and Bael shut the door behind her. He narrowed his eyes, studying her as he walked closer. “How does your shoulder feel?”

“Fine.” She crossed her arms. She couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of his fingertips on her bare skin. Just looking at him, she could feel a blush creeping into her cheeks. Bael hadn’t actually shown any interest in her, and anyway they were supposed to kill each other. So what the hell was she thinking about his hands for?

She needed to change the subject. “Did you know that Abrax has been feeding oneiroi raw meat?” she blurted.

“Yes. It turns them into savage fighters—brings out the beast within them.”

“Right.” She swallowed hard. “Thank you for healing me.”

His brow furrowed, and he looked at the ground. She had the impression he wanted to ask her something, but he couldn’t quite get the words out.

“Did you want something?” she prompted.

“I thought perhaps you wouldn’t like to eat alone. I was hoping you might join me for dinner.”

Now that was unexpected.She glanced down at her leather outfit covered in sand and dried blood. “I’ll need time to change.”

“Of course. I’ll return in an hour.” He turned, departing as suddenly as he’d come.

As she filled the bath,Ursula peeled off the blood-stained leather trousers and corset.

Cera had been right about the strength of the material. A few slashes had pierced through the reinforced leather, but it still hung together. Still, something would have to be done about the grit that seemed to permeate every crease and fold. If she wore it again, she’d get a rash.

She stepped into the bath, letting the warm water soothe her burning muscles.

She closed her eyes, but the images from the fight flooded her mind: Remus, impaled on her sword. The reaper’s head, detaching from his body, the hot spray of crimson blood. Her eyes snapped open again.

She reached for the soap—lavender-scented. Bael had said it would chase the nightmares away. She rubbed it over her skin, working up a pale blue lather, washing away the blood and grit. When she inhaled deeply, some of the images faded from her mind.

Still, a voice nagged in the back of her mind. Fighting—viciously—had come so easily to her. So who was F.U.? What had she done that slicing through a man’s neck came as naturally as breathing? Ursula swallowed hard. She couldn’t help but wonder if F.U. had been something of a monster.

And she had the strange feeling that Nyxobas knew all about F.U.’s monstrosity. Still, Ursula couldn’t remember a damn thing.

She stepped out of the bath, toweling off. As she examined her skin in the mirror, she could find not a single scar marring her pale skin. Bael’s magic had worked remarkably well. In fact, as she gazed at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of his powerful magic, kissing her body. What would his lips feel like on her bare skin? The lords’ wives had said he was an amazing lover.

She gritted her teeth. Stop it, Ursula. It was ridiculous. He was going to kill her—he had no choice but to kill her. Unless, by some miracle, she managed to slaughter him first. And here she was, wondering what his lips would feel like on her bare skin.

“There is something really wrong with you, you know that?” she said to her reflection.

Wrapped in a towel, she climbed the stairs to the bedroom she never used. Cera had left some dresses in there.

She opened a drawer, plucking out a pair of purple knickers. She slid them on over her hips, then crossed to the closet. She pulled out a dress—a stunning indigo. She stepped into it, pulling it up over her shoulders. Her milky-white legs shone through the sheer fabric. Delicate, glimmering stitching wound up the front of the dress. Cera is an absolute genius.

She slipped into a pair of deep-blue heels.

Cera had left a makeup kit on the dresser, and she rubbed blush into her cheeks.

She felt like she was preparing for a date, which was completely insane. She was meeting another warrior, for a post-slaughter feast, before they jumped into the fray again.

Still, after everything she’d seen, it was a relief to do something normal. The mundane tasks of lining her eyes with black, slicking lip-gloss over her lips—a rich red, the color of?—

She slammed the lipstick on the top of her dresser. That’s enough of that. She wasn’t going to think about death right now. She pulled a soft, white cloak from the closet, and wrapped it around her shoulders. Before leaving the bedroom, she shoved the silver ring into her pocket.

A knock sounded from downstairs. He’s already here.

She hurried down the stairs and pulled open the door.

Bael stood in the doorway, dressed in a midnight-blue cloak, with a deep gray suit underneath. “Ursula. Thank you for joining me. Cera arranged dinner in my hall.”

Her stomach rumbled as she stepped outside. “I’m actually starving.”

They walked across the bridge, the lunar wind nipping at her skin.

“I thought you might be hungry,” he said. “Battle either turns your stomach or leaves you ravenous.”

She frowned as they hurried over the bridge. “F.U. seems to have a brutal side.”

“F.U.?”

“Former Ursula. Me, before I lost my memory.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Right. Her brutal side may have saved your life.”

He led her into the lion atrium, where milky sunlight streamed through the shattered wall. On the dark side of the room, candlelight danced over the smashed tile, and her heels crushed the fragments of the floor. “Why don’t you repair this place? It didn’t seem to take you long to repair the broken window in my quarters.”

“I want to remember.” He pulled open an onyx door, revealing the tunnel illuminated by glowing mushrooms.

She rubbed the ring between her fingers. “And how long will you leave it that way as a reminder?”

“Until I make things right again.”

She took a deep breath. Making things right again meant reclaiming his manor. And that meant she had to die. Dread coiled around her heart. “Will you make sure I have a quick death, if it comes to it?”

His icy gaze slid to her, and his jaw tightened. “Of course. And I’d ask that you do the same for me.”

“Do you really think I’d stand a chance against you?”

“Like you said, F.U. knew how to fight. You move like a phantom.”

“Too bad I have no idea why.”

“That’s a mercy.”

Surprise flickered through her. “You think severe retrograde amnesia is a mercy?”

“Believe me. There are far worse things than forgetting.” Ice laced his tone.

Okay. So that’s an awkward topic.

As they walked, Ursula ran her fingers along the rough walls. “Did the oneiroi carve this?”

“No, it was here when I won the manor.”

She frowned. “So the previous lord made it?”

Bael paused, reaching out to touch one of the glyphs in the stone, his powerful body just inches from hers. She could feel the heat coming off him, and his delicious smell distracted her. Maybe her attraction to Bael wasn’t totally crazy after all. If she was going to die soon, at least she could enjoy her final days.

“No one knows what the symbols mean,” he said. “Not even the oneiroi. These tunnels have been here for as long as anyone can remember—even before Nyxobas arrived.”

He turned, walking again, his heels echoing off the tunnel ceiling.

Ursula picked up her pace to keep up with him. “I don’t understand. Why would anyone take the trouble to burrow through one hundred feet of solid rock?” And more importantly, is there a way I can use this as an escape route? Though it was pretty difficult to escape an entire moon. Perhaps I can hide down here for decades like a mole person, living on mushrooms.

“I’m not entirely sure why it’s here,” said Bael as he reached the end of the passage. “But I think it’s on account of those.” He pointed to the giant indigo crystals on the cavern’s ceiling. Together with the luminescent mushrooms that clustered around them, they bathed the cavern in a pale violet light.

Ursula stiffened as a subtle vibration began to hum inside her belly, tugging her closer to the source of the magic, as if on an invisible thread. “What are they?”

“The light of the crystals amplifies magic,” Bael continued. “I think whoever carved the tunnel wanted to be closer to them.”

They crossed to the narrow stone bridge that hung between the stalactites. Following Bael, she took a tentative step onto the bridge. Her stomach swooped. On either side of the stone strip, the cavern floor dropped away. She shuddered. “It looks like Nyxobas’s void.”

He turned, violet light sparking in his eyes. “You’ve seen the void?”

Her heart raced. “Can we have this conversation on the other side of the bridge?”

“Of course.”

He moved swiftly to the other side of the bridge, turning to offer his hand. “Is everything okay?”

“Just a little vertigo.”

“As long as you don’t try to stab me with a corkscrew again.”

“Was that supposed to be a joke?”

“I have been known to tell a joke in my twenty-two thousand years.”

“And are they the best jokes the world has ever known?”

He shot her a sharp look. Apparently, her jokes weren’t funny.

When they reached the central platform, Ursula saw a small, black marble table standing in the center, with two chairs on either side. Two silver domed trays lay on the table, along with a bottle of chilled champagne and glasses. Bael gestured for her to sit.

She pulled off her cloak, wrapping it over the back of her chair. Bael’s eyes slowly slid up and down her body, and he took a deep breath.

She sat across from Bael. His gaze locked on hers. “The clothing you wear distracts me.”

A blush warmed her chest. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No. Yes. It’s hard for me to think straight when I can see your skin through your dresses. Or when I see you standing naked in the portal room. Or that corset?—”

“Is this why you asked me to dinner? To lecture me about nudity?”

“No.”

“I thought you were supposed to be a legendary lover, not a major prude.”

A smile curled his lips. “Is that what you’ve heard?”

Blushing, she drummed her fingernails on the tablecloth. “That’s what the lords’ wives say.”

Suddenly serious, he frowned. “But you understand that we’re not lovers, nor will we ever be. One of us will die soon, and I could never be with a hound of Emerazel in that way.”

Angry heat warmed her cheeks. Well, now I feel like a total idiot. “Of course I know that. That’s not what I meant. And anyway, I’d never want to be with a...an ancient shadow warrior...” she spluttered. She was pretty sure her cheeks were a fetching shade of crimson right now.

“Of course.”

“Are we going to eat?” Avoiding eye contact, she pulled the dome off her tray. She wasn’t sure what had just happened, but it stung like hell.

Neatly arranged on a plate lay a roast chicken and a watercress salad. Most awkward non-date in the history of non-dates. Why had he asked her here?

I’ll just eat in silence.She picked up her knife and fork, cutting into the chicken.

Bael pulled the dome off his tray, and steam curled into the air. “The next trial is a race. You will need training.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m good at running.”

“We won’t be running. We’ll be riding bats. You will need to learn how to fly one.”

“Great. And you’re going to train me?”

“Yes.”

She swallowed a bite of her salad. “Why, exactly, are you so eager to help a hound of Emerazel?”

“I told Nyxobas I would protect you.”

“That was before he threw me into the melee,” she pointed out.

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know why I want to help you.” He frowned. “I suppose it’s an unfair disadvantage that you’re not native to the Shadow Realm. Like I said, you deserve a fair chance.”

She cut into her chicken. “So you’re just big on fairness?”

His gaze roamed down her body, then up again. “If someone is offering you help to save your life, you’d do best not to question it.”

“Fair enough.” She sipped her champagne. “I’d just like to note your inconsistencies.”

“Noted.”

“Is that all you wanted to talk to me about? I mean, that and how we’re not going to be lovers?” Whoops. That sounded bitter.

“I wanted to talk to you about Cera,” he said.

Oh. So that’s why I’m here. “You already told me. The oneiroi are not my friends.” She obviously wasn’t going to change his mind. No point in arguing.

“It’s more than that.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out the obsidian knife. “This weapon. It could have cost Cera her life if anyone had learned where it had come from. Her desire to protect you puts her in danger.”

Guilt pressed on her chest. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She frowned. “Really though, if you’d given me the katana before the melee, it wouldn’t have been an issue.”

His jaw tightened. “That was a last-minute decision.”

She swallowed a bite of chicken. “So a part of you thought, ‘maybe I’ll just kill the hound.’”

His eyes pierced her. “A part of me thought a quick death at my hands would serve you best.”

“What made you change your mind?”

He shrugged. “What if I’d been wrong? What if you’re stronger than I’d thought? I don’t know you. You don’t even know you. You deserved a chance.” He speared his chicken.

She took a swig of her champagne. “Thank you for the chance.”

Her mind flooded again with a vision of the gore-strewn crater. Anger simmered, and the sting of Bael’s rejection only worsened her mood. “I just—I don’t understand this world. It’s savage. Nyxobas is savage. He’ll kill an oneiroi just for having a rock-knife. He forces his subjects to slaughter each other to prove themselves. Father and son hate each other. No one is actually happy here.”

Dark magic whorled off his body, angrily slashing the air. “As if your goddess is any better.”

Ursula slammed a hand on the table. “How many times do I have to tell you? She is not my goddess. I don’t remember what F.U. did.”

“That’s right.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “She’s F.U.’s goddess.”

“Exactly.”

“And F.U. was perfectly innocent, I’m sure. A pure follower of Emerazel, who knew how to wield a sword like the most savage assassin. Who Nyxobas has chosen as his champion. Who can’t seem to control her fire, and who felt the need to wipe her memories clean to wash away the horror of what she’d done. A coward’s way out.”

His words slid through her bones, and an image of a burning house rose in her mind. What had she done? “You don’t know that F.U. was a monster.”

His powerful magic slashed the air around him. “When you threw the dagger at Nyxobas, what exactly was going through your head?”

She shook her head. I don’t want to get into that.

Bael leaned in closer, his eyes piercing. “I can see that you’re hiding something. Tell me what you were thinking?”

Tears moistened her eyes. She swallowed hard. “The voice said, kill the king.”

He leaned back. “And yet, you’re not a savage at all. Not like the shadow demons.”

“I don’t know where the voice came from.”

“Easy to be blameless when you have no memories though, isn’t it? When you divorce yourself so thoroughly from your former life that you think of yourself as two people. You’re not a killer... F.U. is. How convenient for you.”

“It’s a little hard for me to defend these accusations when I have no memory. Forget the katana. This isn’t a fair fight.”

“Don’t you get it, Ursula?” Venom laced his voice. “Having no memory is a blessing. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and count yourself lucky.”

She gripped her knife, tears stinging her eyes. “And what did you do, Bael, to end up here in this wasteland below your manor?” She gestured at the empty cavern. “What guilt eats at you, that you’ve created your own little void? No messy emotions. No one close, no one to hurt you. Pretty safe here, among the mushrooms and the rocks, isn’t it? Tell me, Bael. When was the last time you loved anyone but yourself?”

His eyes shaded to a deep black. “That is none of your concern, hound.”

“The lords’ wives told me you were an amazing lover. But it doesn’t seem you kept any women around for long. No wonder you adore Nyxobas. You’re just like him. Lost in the void. Talk about a coward’s way out.”

She stood, her legs shaking, and crossed back to the stone bridge. As she crossed, she peered over at the sheer drop into darkness.

And the darkness called to her.