Shadow's Claim

When Morgana’s floating swords disappeared, the three surviving competitors stood.

Cas traced to her, laying his hand on her shoulder. She quaked beneath his grip.

Too much to process. Aside from the shocking development of the Vrekeners’ deaths, Bettina was rocked by the outcome of this round. Because of her choices, three entrants were dead, the fates of three others altered irretrievably.

Some part of her truly must have thought she could take out Goürlav with her lady’s choice. He remained, and he was seemingly unbeatable in the ring. Which meant . . .

The vampire will die tomorrow.

Cas will die the next night.

I will wed a monster.

Too much—

“What is this runner-up tour, Morgana?” Raum demanded, hurtling toward battle- ax mode.

Matching his tone, she said, “It’s a done thing, demon. Challenge me not.”

“Sending m’girl off with that strange leech. I won’t have it!”

Daciano traced to the grandstand at that moment. The vampire stood silently, gazing at Bettina with concern, a question in his eyes.

All sweetness and light, Morgana said, “Ah, the gentleman vampire comes calling. Why don’t you meet her in an hour or so, Prince? Give her time to decompress. In the meantime,” she casually continued, “we must go sort out a petty family squabble. Never fear, I have every hope that at least two of us will survive it.”

* * *

To let her go now? Trehan had to clench his fists to keep from reaching for her. Standing this close to his Bride after remaining away so long was punishing.

He wanted to hold her, to demand to know her thoughts.

As if Morgana could read his own, she cast him a foreboding look. “One hour, Prince.”

Trehan decided he’d heed Morgana’s warning, but only because he had work to do in the interim. Tonight he intended to show Bettina other benefits of a blood connection—namely that he could provide anything that she needed or desired, without her even having to ask.

Again Trehan’s plan had transitioned. Capitalize on her passion; eliminate her fear.

“Back to my quarters, Caspion”—Raum reached for Bettina, then an indignant Morgana—“we’re away.”

“Get your paws off me, you oaf—”

The sorceress’s words were left hanging as Raum traced them. Caspion scowled at Trehan, then followed them. He was considered part of the family?

She’s my fucking Bride. Decreed by fate! I am her family, with a tie greater than any of those three. This would be the slowest sixty minutes of eternity.

An hour of wondering what they were telling Bettina. Probably browbeating her as he’d seen in dreams.

An hour of wondering how she felt about his gift.

She didn’t like his offering best. But she hadn’t liked it least either. Not a success, nor a failure. Gods, that female confused him!

Confusion? Another feeling he was unaccustomed to.

Coupled with that, he still battled rage over his dream of her attack. Backsliding.

Focus, Trehan. You’ve so little time.

He’d scarcely thought of his own fate tomorrow night. He was scheduled to fight an adversary stronger and faster than any he’d ever faced. One he dared not injure.

And if he lost, he’d have to depend on his cousins to get Bettina away from the primordial.

Best not lose.

Trehan traced to his tent, collecting another item he’d taken from Skye Hall today, the plain black staff. He needed assistance with it. Luckily, Trehan knew of a blind mystic of great power.

Without delay, he traced from Abaddon to a windy, lightning-lit realm, appearing in the mystic’s modest shop.

Trusting another with this piece would be a risk. With no other choice, Trehan held out the staff for the mystic to feel.

The male glided his fingertips over the wood, raising his brows in shock.

“I need this to do what it’s meant to, Honorius,” Trehan told him. “Multiplied by a thousand. And I need it before sunset tomorrow.”

Chapter 29

“Gentleman caller?” Raum shouted to Morgana as soon as the three of them had landed in his receiving room. Historically, Bettina had visited this place only to discuss the most serious of matters.

—Bettina, your father . . . he’s fallen on the battlefield.

—This is your summoning medallion, Tina. We only need a bit of your blood.

—You must be wed, m’girl. Without a protector, you risk another attack. What if something happens to me this Accession? Who will protect you?

“Curse you, Raum!” Morgana yanked her arm away. “Never trace me again, or your horns will decorate the grille of my new mortal car!” She flounced over to one of the rustic divans, draping herself over it with a great flourish.

Bettina perched on the divan opposite Morgana, gazing around warily. Raum’s spire was like an extension of him—a mix of violence and unexpected thoughtfulness.

Crossed battle-axes hung above a rough-hewn hearth. Centuries’ worth of armor lined the walls. Above them were the mounted heads of monsters he’d hunted: vicious Gotohs, ghouls, and Wendigos.

But he also possessed a collection of rare scales from myriad basilisk nests. Demons held those dragons sacred. In the room’s firelight, the scales gave off a mesmerizing shimmer, waves of iridescent pearl, jade, and crimson.

Caspion traced into the room, heading straight to the sideboard.

“I don’t like this,” Raum snapped. “Don’t like the way that vampire looks at Bettina, as if he’s wedded and bedded her already. As if he knows her.”

Bettina peered at her bitten nails, watching them begin to grow back.

“And as glad as I am about the Vrekeners, I demand to know how he found them!” Raum’s eyes widened, and he pointed a claw at Morgana. “You must have helped the leech! Predicted where Skye Hall would be!” Raum joined Cas at the sideboard. “When you wouldn’t assist us?” He sloshed demon brew from a pitcher into a mug, then thought better of it and palmed the pitcher in his big hand.

“How? I’m no soothsayer, as evidenced by my sanity.” Morgana spread her arms over the back of the divan with an insouciant grace. “And you know I tried to read Bettina’s mind to give you a description of the four. But she couldn’t even bring herself to picture them.”

Daciano had probably been able to see deeper into her subconscious than Bettina herself could.

“Your hand is in this, sorceress!” Raum insisted, adjourning with the pitcher to his oversize desk.

“One more time, Raum—the Hall is impervious to Sorceri. We can’t find it, reach it, attack it—”

“And I’m to take your word on that?” Raum all but yelled, “I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you!”

Morgana snapped, “The feeling is mutual, I assure you!”

Cas slid Bettina a glance that said: “This is so messed up.” She flashed one back: “I know, right!”

She felt as if they were two siblings watching their dam and sire fight.

Wait. Siblings? Were her feelings turning . . . sisterly