Chapter 46

The soldiers cleared the field of the golem’s ichor.

It was just her and Bael, and she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Right now, the thought of him terrified her.

Pain splintered up her leg. The cut in her calf wouldn’t kill her on its own, but it would slow her down considerably. That in and of itself was probably a death sentence.Especially given her opponent.

She stole a glance at him.

He kept his eyes on the horizon. He didn’t want to look at her, either.

Hothgar spoke, “Great men—and a golem—have bled their last on the sand today. Before the final duel begins, let us honor the sacrifice of these champions of Nyxobas.”

A great cheer rose from the crowd.

Hothgar continued, “I would have never believed it myself, but the final duel will be between Bael, the Lord ofAbelda, and Ursula, the hound of Emerazel.”

Finally, at least, he was using respectable names.

“This will be a clash of the fallen versus the filthy…” Hothgar continued.

Anger simmered. Okay. Fuck this guy.

“...Of night versus fire.” His voice boomed over the crater. “Neither worthy of the House of Abelda.” He raised his hands to the sky. “But let us hope that it will be epic!”

Ursula glanced up at the Earth, bathing the crater in a blue light.

From beneath Nyxobas’s statue, Hothgar declared, “Step forward onto the field of blood.”

Ursula looked down at the blood-streaked sand as she walked, her heart a hunted animal. Only when she’d taken her place in the center of the arena did she look up at Bael. He wasn’t even bothering with his helmet for this fight, and she could see his grim expression, his lips pressed tight. She tried to catch his eye, but he looked past her like she wasn’t there.

Instinctively, she scanned his weapons a final time. The silver sword, still stained with Inth’s blood. Right now, he was probably thinking about how much power he was about to regain. He’d claim back his wings, his manor. His immortality. All he had to do was slaughter her.

And given everything she’d seen tonight, he hardly had to break a sweat.

Dark terror clawed at her ribs, and her legs began to shake. She knew what was coming—Bael’s dagger in her chest. The slackened jaw, her skin as gray as the golem’s. And then, the void.

Don’t give up yet, Ursula.

Her teeth chattered, and she gripped the katana tighter, her palms sweating.

“The final duel.” Hothgar gripped his mallet.

Ursula’s calculations gave way to raw panic, and her mind raced, desperately searching for an escape. But this place wasn’t built for an escape, and it wasn’t like she could flee unnoticed with this crowd watching.

The katana shook in her hand. I need to focus. I need calm so I can think straight again.

She imagined her fingers wrapping around the silver ring in her pocket, feeling its smooth solidity. Just like her white rock. Her breathing slowed, and her gaze flicked to Hothgar.

He slammed his mallet into the gong with a thunderous crash, and the sound vibrated through her bones.

She kept her eyes locked on Bael—that perfect, godlike face. His chiseled chest. He stood unmoving, shadow magic flickering about him.

And if there was one thing that terrified her about Bael, it was his stillness.

His eyes bored into hers. He wasn’t going to move until she attacked. She’d already watched him fight.

The other champions had tried to attack him first, and that had backfired on all of them. Brutally. Like the Gray Ghost, she needed to get him to move.

“Are you going to fight?” she yelled.

He didn’t stir. Not a single twitch of a muscle.

She tightened her grip on the sword. “It was me, by the way. I broke into your quarters.” A risky move. He might give her a painful death now instead of an easy one, but she wanted to throw him off balance.

The sad truth was—even though she knew he’d come here to kill her, that he’d do whatever he could to reclaim his manor—she still couldn’t bring herself to drive her sword through his chest. Not unless he was coming for her, his sword drawn.

She still wasn’t thinking like a real predator. And how could she? She’d saved his life—but he’d saved hers countless times. He’d healed her wounds, taught her magic. He’d brought her a sword, freshly sharpened.

So how the fuck am I supposed to muster up any bloodlust?

She swallowed hard. His wife. Cera had told her what he’d done—he’d murdered his own wife. There simply wasn’t a good explanation for that, no matter how much she wanted to like him.

She let the words play in her head like a mantra... Wife-killer...wife-killer...wife-killer....

She needed to shatter that cool, impenetrable exterior. If she wanted any hope of saving her own life, she had to light a fire in him, to see the real Bael.

A chill spread through her body, and she looked him dead in the eyes. “Don’t give me any of your false chivalry,” she said in a cool, even voice. “The women in the Shadow Realm are just property, isn’t that right? Nothing more, nothing less. I thought maybe you were different, but now I know the truth.”

A muscle twitched in Bael’s jaw, and a deathly silence fell over the arena. Maybe the Brethren knew what she was talking about.

“Nice of you to keep Elissa’s portrait up there for a while.” A gnawing void seemed to open in her chest as she spoke. This wasn’t her—but it was a role she had to play if she wanted to live. She had to let the ice take hold of her heart. “Until you stuffed her back into your storage room.”

Across from her, Bael’s muscles tightened. The shadow magic flickered around him, thickening into a mist. At that moment, Ursula knew she had him. Her pulse raced hard, and her fingers gripped the hilt so hard her knuckles turned white.

“Because what would you be without your guilt?” she said. “Forget Abelda Manor. Regret is your real home, and you’d be nothing without it.”

With a terrifying roar, Bael charged, shadow running right for her. Ice rushed through Ursula’s veins. But she was ready. At the last possible instant, she ducked, and brought her katana up, spearing him in the gut. Hot blood pumped onto her hands.

Her eyes flashed to his sword hand, searching for a counter attack.

But he hadn’t brought his sword. He’d charged without his weapon.

The world seemed to sway below her feet. What the fuck have I done? “I’m sorry,” she whispered, tilting her head to look up at him.

He stared at her, his eyes wide.

Her hands shaking, she pulled the blade from his gut. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again.

He clutched his stomach, blood pouring between his fingers. But he didn’t fall. Instead, he stood, staring at her, his eyes darkening to a wrathful black.

Now, she no longer saw Bael looking back at her. Near death, the primal part of his mind had switched on, and the void itself stared back at her.