Shadow's Claim

the pile of shavings. Ruined. She chucked it into the wastebasket, then squeezed her forehead with frustration.

Everything was changing, her life altered by this tournament in unforeseeable ways. And possibly for nothing.

Raum had visited today with some startling news—

“Honey, I’m home!” Salem called out, returning from his daily duties: spying. Entering the workroom, he occupied a length of chain on the backboard. “Damn, chit, maybe you want to file the shavings down too?”

She glared. “I’m preoccupied, okay?”

“And I’m holding me palms up in surrender—but it’s fake. ’Cause I never surrender. So how much longer till you finish?”

“I’ll complete fabrication before the round tonight, attaching the palm grip to the four top rings. Basically everything but the spring mechanism and the sneak blade. When I get back, I’ll do that and then etch the rings. You can send word that she’ll have it tomorrow.”

Which was an important step. Bettina straightened her arms, clutching the edge of the workbench. Because if Goürlav wins, I’ll be seeking asylum in Patroness’s kingdom.

Of course, without her medallion, Bettina couldn’t exactly escape her new husband’s clutches.

They still had no idea how to defeat the primordial, and there were only three rounds left—including tonight’s lady’s choice round. She’d secretly been hoping that this round would afford her the opportunity to take out the primordial herself.

“What’s going on out in Rune?” she asked Salem.

“Commerce,” Salem said in an impressed tone. “Lots and lots of commerce. Your backwater kingdom is now a hot tourist destination.”

As the final battles neared, fans of all stripes—sometimes literally—had arrived on the plane, filling inns and eateries. Young Loreans were camped out around the Iron Ring, playing music and building bonfires.

“And whatever Morgana’s got going on down in the ring is drawing folks by the droves.”

The sorceress had commandeered the arena for the entire day and night, hosting opening acts before tonight’s round. “Any scoop on the competitors?” Their number had been cut down to just six. Most possessed the ability to trace. Four of them were demons—including the primordial. “Maybe you have news about Goürlav?” she added hopefully.

“He’s here less and less during the day,” Salem answered. “I got nothing. Even the spies I’m spying on who are spying on other spies got nothing.”

Salem had reported that intrigues, subterfuge, and cheating were rampant.

“Do you have any idea what tonight’s round will entail?” All Bettina knew was that the remaining six would dwindle to three.

“I just shook me head. Wiv Morgana, expect the unexpected, yeah?”

“Maybe I’m supposed to decide which competitors will fight each other.”

“Or maybe you just snap your fingers and take out three.” Salem made a snapping sound. “Including Goürlav.”

“I’d been hoping the same. What about the rest of the competitors?”

“I spent the morning as the ceiling in the warlocks’ tent. Found out that the hobbies of Those Best Forgotten include long walks on the beach and sacrificing nymphs on altars. I mean, who’d want to hurt a nymph? That’s like kicking a rainbow in the nuts. And they’re doing things to that wolf . . . well, let’s just say they’re shy of humane.”

Salem had already told her how those handlers baited the poor creature before his rounds, bringing his ferocity to the fore.

“Why can’t he rein in his beast?” She knew his kind spent years learning to control the wolf within, always fearing that it’d take over.

“It’s not a rollicking good time of a story.” When she waved him on, Salem said, “The male was . . . human. The warlocks turned him to serve them. Apparently, they do that kind of thing a lot.”

A turned Lykae would have no chance of mastering the new beast inside him, not for years—if ever. Until then, you’d have a brutal killer on your hands, which was why so few were ever transformed. “So the warlocks just wind him up and let him go?”

She could imagine Salem nodding.

An added bonus? Besides being the strongest Lore species, the Lykae also happened to have unfailing fighting instincts. “Does the wolf have any idea what happened to him?”

“Dunno. Depends on how long ago he was turned. He might have flashes of lucidity. We better hope for one of those flashes if he goes up against Goürlav. Those Lykae claws would spill some serious Child Terrors. Can you imagine—”

“I don’t want to imagine! This is happening under my watch. Most outsiders believe I rule. But I’d never condone the slavery of that wolf. I’d never condone anything that might bring Child Terrors to Rune!” With snappish movements, she began cleaning up the slivers.

“No argument here,” Salem said in a consoling tone. “By the way, I happened to stop by the leech’s again. Actually found him inside.”

She briefly stilled. “And?” she asked as if she couldn’t care less.

“You don’t sound interested. It’s nothing. Shouldn’t have bothered you wiv—”

“Fine! Just tell me about him.”

“I found him sitting in his darkened tent, mindlessly sharpening his sword as he stared at a crystal on his desk. His fangs were sharp, eyes black as pitch. The furs on his pallet were shredded. Not exactly the behavior of a cold and rational sort. He looked like he was about to—oh, how do I put this?—go out and fuck shit up. Take me word for it, still waters run deep wiv that one. And when the cold ones go, they go big.”

Daciano had neared the limits of his control with her, but he’d always pulled back. So what had affected him so much?

Salem said, “Did you know there are Abaddonae who have started backing that leech?”

“Over one of their own? Or another breed of demon?”

“Hell, I can almost see it myself. Almost. He’s kept it in his pants, thereby keeping you safe from a stoning. Hat tip to the vamp on that one—’cause you sure as hell weren’t barring the gates to your lady garden.” Over her outraged sounds, he continued, “He fights like no other, and you fancied him.”

“I did not!”

“Fuck knots don’t lie, chit.”

“But I love Cas.”

“Know that I’m rolling my eyes right now.” At her glower, he said, “Of course you love him! In a certain way. You were two orphans that hit it off and bonded. He was your only friend in this entire kingdom. Pair that uncommon tie wiv his uncommon good looks, and any female’s judgment would get cloudy. Trust me on this—I used to leave chits addlepated whenever I walked by.”

“You were uncommonly good-looking?”

“Hotter ’n Beckham wiv a better body.”

That got her to raise a brow.

“In any case, you’re young—too young to know what love is.”

Exactly what Daciano had said. “How old are you, then?”

He gave a dramatic sigh. “Old as air. And probably still too young to know what love is. Though there was this one. Almost thought she was me kindred.”

A phantom’s mate.

“It ended bad though—”

The outer exit to her spire whooshed open. Bettina frowned in Salem’s direction, imagined them sharing a questioning look.

Morgana called, “Freakling!”

Bettina and Salem hurried to the sitting room. “What is it?”

“We need to talk about Raum at once.”