Moritz sighs heavily, an edge to the sound. “I half-expected it.”
“Still, if we cut the head off the snake, the snake will eventually die. It may writhe wildly for a moment or two, but it will die,” I say, tapping my fingers on the oak table. “Our soldiers can take care of the demons, it’s Sadal that drives us back every time.”
“Sadal first then,” Moritz agrees.
I flash him a feral grin, letting a little of my savageness slip through the Fae demeanor. I’m feeling hopeful again. We have more soldiers enroute, a fortress with its back to the sea, and a god to kill. I push thoughts of losing Verity and falling victim to the curse again out of my mind. Perhaps when Sadal falls, the curse will slip away with him. I close my eyes, stilling myself. That’s all I can hope.
Suddenly, the dark oak doors are flung open. I reach for Verity’s dagger at my waist while Moritz goes for his great sword. A man, covered in red dust and dirt from weeks of travel, stumbles into the room. He shakes out his hair, revealing blonde locks beneath. He glowers at me.
“Thal.” I grin, relieved to see my cousin alive after an expedition to the wastes.
“Bastard,” he hisses.
I chuckle, but the laugh is cut short when a stranger slips into the room. She’s hunched, bowed like a broken branch, and draped in a dark blue cloak. Her hood is drawn up, but not deep enough to hide her stringy, gray locks or brown eyes from view.
My hand is on my dagger again and I eye the stranger warily. “Who are you?” I ask, eyes flitting between her and Thal. Despite the bend of her wizened body, I can sense the power radiating from her. She could have Thal dead before I could stop her at this distance.
She smiles – a warm, friendly look that should inspire trust. But I know better. “No names, here,” she says. Her voice is sweet and soft. “We don’t deal in the magic of names.”
“Thal.” My gaze slips towards him. “Explain.”
“Explain?” He laughs mirthlessly. “Oh, I’ll explain.” He jabs a finger into my chest. “I wandered weeks in a deadly wasteland, hell-bent on killing me, and guess who I find at the cusp of it before it drops of into nothingness? Actual nothingness. Your first Bloodbane. Happy?”
I stare him down, letting him finish his tirade. He breathes heavily and then his shoulders finally relax. “Alright?” I ask, squeezing his shoulder.
“I need a drink,” he sighs, staggering to the liquor cabinet in the corner.
I turn to the woman, who watched it unfold with an amused glint in her eyes. “So,” I say, studying her. “You’re one of the first Bloodbane.”
“The first,” she corrects me, still smiling.
I don’t trust her smile within an inch of my life. “I’m not sure just how much Thal has told you, but you might be able to stop Sadal from slaughtering hundreds of thousands.” I gesture for her to take a seat.
“Manners these days,” she tuts.
I watch as she slips lithely into a chair, her quick movements betraying her crone act. Irritation flares within me. I resist the urge to bark that we don’t have time for pleasantries. I smile instead. “Apologies. I trust the journey went well? Would you like tea or anything to eat?”
“Strong spirits,” she says, sinking into the plush chair.
I glance over my shoulder towards Thal. He looks up from the bottle and then purses his lips. Wordlessly, he brings her a glass and a bottle of our finest spirits. I watch as she sniffs the liquid before taking a tentative sip. Thal returns to the drink, tucking himself into a corner where he can listen and watch.
“Better?” I ask, an edge creeping to my voice.
“Much.” She grins.
“Sadal,” I begin.
“Deserves what he gets,” the witch says fiercely, interrupting me.
I cock a brow. “As long as what he gets is a slow death, I agree.”
“We’ll get along just fine, little King.” She smiles broadly, baring a set of unnaturally white and gleaming teeth. “I’ll tell you how to kill him.”
Chapter 17
Verity
Burning, hot pain sears in my arm as the blade slices through nerves and tendons. I scream, unable to stop the cry. Every cell in my body screams at me to stop, to pull the knife out and cover the wound. But I don’t stop. I fight against my instincts, digging the knife down deeper and deeper. Blood spills over the hilt, coating my hand and dripping to the ground.
Serus watches with hungry eyes as the blood pools nearer to it. “More,” it whispers.
I bite down hard on my tongue, trying to distract myself from the pain. I pull the knife through my arm, up towards my elbow. Tears spill from my eyes. I can feel the shock setting in; the rest of my body going numb, my mind spooling out like a loose thread and all I can think about is the pain.
I fall to my knees, unable to stand any longer. My body is betraying me, quaking and trembling as more blood seeps out of the wound. My hand shakes, unsteady on the hilt and growing weaker. “I can’t,” I pant, lifting my eyes to Serus. “I can’t take anymore.”
“It’s not enough,” it says, no emotion or sympathy in its voice.
“Oh, god,” I whimper, closing my eyes.
With a sharp breath, I wrench the knife from my arm. Blood splatters across the inky floor and more gushes from my arm with force. I glance down at my leg, practically feeling the blood pulsing under my skin. One stab won’t hurt. I could still walk – probably.
Shaking, I poise the blade over my left thigh, staring down at it with tunnel vision. “Do it,” Serus
