I gutted him, watching him fall, holding swords with both hands in front of me, daring anyone else to touch me. The crowd was starting to shift, their attention leaving Rhyan, and focusing on me.
But on the dais Rhyan’s entire body shook, as the whip remained connected to him. He roared in pain, his hands shaking in their bonds, his entire body twitching and jerking. But the whip held onto him, drawing out his power. Stripping him of his magic.
I watched in horror as he slumped over. Then Kunda pulled the whip back. The moment it left Rhyan’s body, a scream tore through him. Through me. Rhyan’s magic was glittering and shining, a ball of light at the end of the whip, pulsing above Kunda’s hand. The audience clamored with excitement, shouting, cheering. Kunda deposited the magic into a black box.
Rhyan’s body convulsed, his muscles contracting, his eyes following the magic as it vanished from his sight. He looked for a second like he was trying to hold back, to regain control, and then he threw his head back and howled, a sound I’d never heard from him before.
A hundred soturi stood between me and the dais.
It wasn’t going to be enough to stop me.
My surroundings went out of focus. The bloodthirsty Lumerians celebrating the violence. The soturi surrounding me, their starfire swords glinting with fire.
I could only see Rhyan. Only see his pained expression as my sword connected to another and another. As my fist met flesh, and I dodged kick and punch and blade.
More were coming. Attention was on me. Rhyan was no longer the spectacle. I felt the subtle shift of the wolves turning their predatory eyes on me. Of Imperator Hart realizing I’d come back. Still, I only saw Rhyan. My hands tightened on my swords, and I continued to swing and scream, racing forward, taking down anyone who stood in my way.
Ducking to avoid a swinging sword, I reached for the leather straps of my belt, pulling off one of the sharpened Valalumir stars. And then I stood, my mask falling off my face, my soturion hood blown back as the evening sun turned my hair to bright, fiery flames. I threw the star straight for Imperator’s Hart throat.
He moved at the last second, his eyes like daggers. And I pulled out another, just about to cut through Kunda’s heart. But it was the fucking Bastardmaker who pushed him aside, taking the hit in his arm. He growled, but it wouldn’t be fatal.
There were more shouts now. My name being called. I was being referred to as forsworn, as a criminal, as a traitor to the Empire. I was to be arrested. And I would be next, publicly stripped.
And only then, my name on the lips of Emperor Avery fucking Kormac, did Rhyan suddenly rally, and lift his head, realizing for the first time, I had come back for him. And that I was almost there.
It was time. Time to call on Asherah. To call onRakashonim.To make the final push as the remnants of light from the Valalumir, and the indigo and orange shards dancing with the red in my heart, began to fade. Damn all the consequences.
“Ani Asherah!”I said, making sure there was no question whose strength I needed. “I call upon her blood, I call upon myself. Help me now.”
A mage appeared before me, bindings shooting forth from their stave. My sword came down and slashed the rope in half.
I ran forward, almost at the dais.
“Ani petrova rakashonim, me ka el lyrotz, dhame ra shukroya, aniam anam. Chayate me el ra shukroya. Ani petrova rakashonim!”
All at once, the diamond centers of the Valalumir stars around my neck began to glow, and for once the flames danced outside my chest. I saw fire in the corner of my eyes, fires that engulfed my aura. Power surged inside me, rushing from my head to my toes, bursting through my fingertips, igniting with every breath I took.
They were running from me now. Emperor Avery and the Bastardmaker were being taken from the dais, rushed out of the arena. Lumerians were screaming in terror. My name was being shouted along with cries for help.
“Protect His Majesty!” someone screamed.
“Guard His Highness!”
Ashvan started to descend from the sky, pulling carriages. Escapes for the elite.
I moved past the rest of the soturi on the ground—those brave enough to still fight me.
One final soturion, a member of Ka Kormac, wearing a wolf pelt reminiscent of the Bastardmaker’s rushed for me, a sword in each hand. I pressed mine together, and before he could strike, I rammed both blades through his belly.
His eyes widened, his mouth opening as blood poured down his chin, and then he fell.
Only Kunda remained on the dais with Imperator Hart. Kane emerged from behind him. I took another star and Ithrew it at his face. He screamed as it cut through his cheek, and he fell from the dais.
Kunda was turning, getting ready to run.
“Finish it!” Imperator Hart screamed. Then his eyes met mine, a dark gleam of victory inside them. “Lyriana! Stop! Drop your weapons. Now!”
The familiar flow of blood through my veins came along with the pain of the blood contract. My body stopped, wanting to freeze and obey, to listen to him as it had been forced to for the past month. And then, fire burned through me.
