“Come now.” He chuckles. Bardulf’s demeanor changes again as effortlessly as a pendulum swing. He shifts his weight with a coy smirk. He has the air of a man trying and failing at seduction. The sight of it makes me sick. “Let’s not play coy. I watched you with Evander, I know what sexual creature you are. I can fill you better than he can.”
“Say another word and I’ll vomit all over you.” I add a gag for good measure. The mask falls from his face once more. The only consistent emotion in Bardulf right now is the hunger in his eyes. “There is no world in which I would ever,everwant you.”
“But you already do want me.” He speaks the words like one would a chant—a spell. Another battery of magic. It becomes perfectly clear what he’s doing.
I draw my cape tighter around me and fight off the assault of his magic. He’s trying to leverage the charm with all the finesse of a butcher using an axe. These are the edges of Conri’s powers that he spoke of? This is the charm that the knights possess? Did Evander have some kind of greater mastery, or did he speak true and he never used it to lure me into his arms? There’s no way I could’ve missed this.
“I will not repeat myself again.” I stand tall. “I do not want you. I have never wanted you. I will never want you. Now get out of my sight.”
“It’s that cloak.” He stands as well. “That’s how you’re resisting.”
“Don’t come near me.” I hold out a hand, as if that alone will stop him. Of course, it doesn’t, and he takes a step closer.
“Oh, now I have all the information, don’t I?” He chuckles and takes another step. I take two steps back. “I’ll tell Conri of your magic cloak and of you falling onto Evander’s prick.”
“I said, don’t come closer.” If he doesn’t stop, I’m going to have to make good on my threats. My heart begins to race again. What was I thinking coming out here with Bardulf alone? I clearly wasn’t thinking. I was just hurt and foolish and now I’m going to have to defend myself.
“I’ll out you for what you are to the wolf king unless you give me some satisfaction, too.” He smirks. It’s so clear that he fully expects me to give in. The bastard.
“Never.”
“Old gods! You would rut with Evander but not me? That pathetic, mewling sycophant?” Bardulf’s hands ball into fists. “Let me guess, you think he’s on your side because he lived in your world.”
What?I don’t have a chance to ask the question. Nor would I trust the answer. Bardulf starts walking faster. I can’t put enough distance between us.
“Now I’m going to show you how a real man takes a woman.”
“Don’t touch me!”
He ignores my threat and reaches out. I stare at the offending hand. He’s not going to stop. Bardulf is going to rip off my pin, and my cloak, and then…
I reach into my bag, pull out the piece of the hearth that had been Folost’s home for years, hold it before me, and call, “Folost.”
The spirit sparks into life, hovering over the small shard of brick. Bardulf stops short, looking at the little spark in confusion. Folost’s eyes swing to meet mine as Bardulf roars with laughter.
“You think that pathetic little flame is going to stop me?” Bardulf lifts a hand, about to slap the brick from my palm.
I completely ignore him, focusing only on the spirit before me. He’s not mighty or primordial, but I knew he would come no matter what.
“I need you to bring Devlan.” I lower my chin and lock eyes with the spirit, making my intention known in a way that only Folost would understand—knowing that I can speak a language with him that Bardulf cannot understand. Even if I could call on one of the greater spirits outright, there would be no time to beg, to explain. I only heard the name once from Aurora—on the beach when we first arrived. I’ve no bond with this spirit, and I have to rely on Folost speaking for me.
Bardulf’s palm slams into mine as he slaps away the brick. Folost tries to cling to the stone. Sparks. And is snuffed by the damp grasses.
“Enough games,” Bardulf snarls. “Now give me what I want!”
I don’t move. I stand as tall as a mighty redwood. As unyielding as a spirit before its essence. I will not cower before a creature as pathetic as him.
“Devlan,” I say as Bardulf lunges for me. My words are calm. Deathly quiet. “Please, I summon you.”
A spark from the scrap of brick, discarded in the grass. I feel the presence of Folost. A surge of magic. And then…
Flame.
It is a torrent of fire that billows out like a scream. The cone shoots from Folost’s brick shard and consumes Bardulf whole. I stand a mere breath from its wall. The heat is staggering. Yet, no tongues of flame leap to me. They lap around me as I stare into the blinding light where Bardulf once stood.
His cries are cut short. They are accompanied by the stink of burning flesh. Then, nothing but fire and smoke. Devlan burns until his flames are as golden as sunlight. As quickly as he came, he disappears.
Before me is a charred stretch of earth. Blackened to dirt. There are not even bones left of Bardulf. It is as if he never existed at all.
