Hellforged

That made him laugh. “I’ve never understood the Cerddorion insistence on helping humans. They fostered your ancestor Taliesin, but so what? It’s proper for the weak to serve those more powerful. Yet Taliesin subverted the natural order and served humans instead. As have all the Cerddorion since.”

He grabbed my arm, yanking me a stop. His voice hissed in my ear. “Don’t you feel it’s wrong that humans run everything? They are weak, stupid herd animals, like those sheep.” He pointed at the grazing animals. “You and I, cousin, we’re descended from a goddess. We are greater, stronger. But through sheer numbers and dumb luck—and Cerddorion support—humans have unjustly seized rulership of the world.”

I shook my arm loose. “I told you, I’m not your cousin.”

“But surely you wish to be counted among the strong, the powerful. The time of weakness—the humans’ time—is passing. The Morfran’s emergence ensures that the descendants of Ceridwen finally assume their rightful place in the new world order.”

“And I suppose you’re the natural leader of this ‘new world order.’ ”

“Of course. But not myself alone.” He jumped in front of me and bowed low. “It is your destiny to share that power with me.”

This time I was the one to laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

His face was completely serious. “You cannot escape your destiny. No one can.”

“Oh, and you know my destiny?”

“Of course. Your father wasn’t the only one who received a prophecy before your birth. I did, as well.”

“Now I know you’re kidding.” I scrutinized his face. It was unlined, and his black hair was full and thick. “You couldn’t have been more than a couple of years old when I was born.”

“I’m much older than I appear. As is your aunt, by the way.”

“Don’t talk to me about Mab. I’m not interested in anything you say about her.”

“As you prefer.”

We walked in silence for several minutes. I knew he was waiting for me to ask. But I wasn’t going to. I had no intention of asking. There was no way in hell I was going to ask.

I asked anyway. “What prophecy?”

His smile was smug. “From a goddess two lines diverged, but they shall be reunited in Victory.”

“That could mean anything. I don’t see how it makes me part of your ‘new world order.’ ”

“I fail to see how it could be clearer. In you, Victory, the two lines—demi-human and demi-demon, Cerddorion and Meibion Avagddu—will become one again.”

“But—”

Pryce gestured, like he was swatting away my stupidity. “Don’t you get it? It means you’re destined to be the mother of my sons.”

I nearly tripped over my own feet. No way, no how, would I ever let Pryce touch me, let alone that way. If he wanted to hear the pitter-patter of little cloven hooves, he’d have to find someone else to beget his demon brood upon.

I turned to tell him so, and he punched me in my solar plexus.

The air whuffed out of my lungs as I doubled over. Pryce stepped back, and I twisted away. The wooden staff whooshed past my head, clipped my shoulder in a starburst of pain, and slammed into the ground.

I couldn’t get a breath.

The staff disappeared. As Pryce lifted it, I launched myself forward, head-butting him in the stomach. He grunted, staggering.

Rape. The ugly word clanged like an alarm bell in my head as I reached for the knife in my boot. He knows I’ll never give him what he wants, so he’s going to rape me.

There was no knife.

I was just taking a daytime walk, damn it. I hadn’t gone armed. Maenllyd was supposed to be safe.

My lungs started working again. I felt dizzy with the rush of oxygen, but I straightened, keeping my knees bent in a fighting stance. Pryce swung the staff at me like a club.

I jumped back, and he pressed forward, swinging the staff. His face twisted in an ugly scowl. He gave a particularly vicious swing, and as soon as the staff swept away from me, back toward his shoulder, I rushed in and smashed his knee with a stomp kick.

There was a pop. Pryce screamed and gripped his knee with one hand.

I wrenched the staff from his other hand and swung it as hard as I could, slamming it into his side. He flew sideways and hit the ground, one leg stretched out, the other bent at a weird angle.

I raised the staff to bring it down on his head. Why not? He’d tried to do it to me. The asshole wanted to rape me. I was acting in self-defense. He deserved to die. He deserved to be annihilated.

Fiery pain slashed my right arm. My demon mark glowed red.

Do it, something urged. Crack open his skull. Smash his face to a bloody pulp. Kill him. Kill him now! DO IT!

Cutting through that urging came Mab’s calm voice: You must be purely yourself.

Purity.

Shit.

It didn’t matter what Pryce deserved. The rage, the overwhelming compulsion to pound his head into a grisly mosaic—those didn’t come from me. They came from the demon mark, and I would not let that control me.

I would not kill anyone lying injured and helpless on the ground.

I hurled the staff like a javelin, as far as I could throw it. It landed among the sheep. The animals bleated and ran.

The voice clamoring for blood grew silent. My demon mark cooled, paled to pink.

At my feet, Pryce moaned. I kicked his shin, hard enough to get his attention.

He twisted his head to look at me. Sweat coated his forehead.

“If you ever try to rape me again,” I said, “I’ll kill you.”

He moaned and closed his eyes. Then he disappeared.

What the—? I stared at the place he’d lain a second ago. Something hit me hard from behind, knocking me onto my hands and knees. A vicious kick, then another, cracked my ribs. A shoe smashed into my nose. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t breathe. Pain exploded in my back, my sides, my head. I curled up, covering my head with my arms and trying to make myself too small to be a target. The attack continued, the blows kept coming, and the world dissolved into an agonizing haze of hurting, hurting, hurting.

Then it stopped.

Something grabbed my hair and yanked my head up. “Understand one thing, cousin,” Pryce’s voice growled in my ear. “I’ve no need to take by force what is mine by destiny.”

He let go, shoving my head back onto the ground. Cloth rustled. I blinked the blood out of my eyes and squinted up at him. He stood over me, whole and unhurt. “I wanted to see what you’re made of,” he said, “and I must say your performance was disappointing. It worries me. Prophecies, after all, are tricky things. So I’m glad for the tests.”

Tests. The word drifted on a dark sea of pain. I couldn’t grab hold of it. What was he talking about?

His voice changed, becoming loud and echo-y, like he was shouting across a canyon. “There will be three tests. If you survive them, I’ll know you are fated to bear my sons.”

Light flashed; tremors shook the earth. When the quaking stopped, I was alone.