Ulvarth’s smile was a wicked crescent, gleaming brighter than his eyes. “Yes.”
Eira tightened her hold on the woman. “Take off your armor, now. Or she dies.”
“You’re bleeding.” Ulvarth still hadn’t moved. His eyes were focused on Eira’s arm. Just below her shoulder was a small cut.
She didn’t care if she was or wasn’t. Eira didn’t ease her grip. “A mere drop of the blood spilled this day is nothing compared to what’s about to happen to you. Your armor.Now.”
His attention shifted from her cut to the woman Eira still held captive. “Well done, my love.”
“All it takes is a drop.” The words were an intentional mockery of Eira’s phrasing. Rasped, as they were through Eira’s grip.
“Fine. Then you both die.” Eira shifted her stance and readied her ice dagger for a strike.
It clattered to the floor.
The left side of her body was suddenly ablaze. Invisible flames ran across her skin. They engulfed her throat. Choking her.
Her magic raged against it. The initial instinct was to cool the phantom heat to the point of numbness. But Eira tried to resist it, instead channeling her focus to try and stop the blood flow to the area. It was worthless.
Poison.
“Bastard.” The word was as clumsy as her fall. Seizures wracked her and she unwillingly writhed on the floor.
Yewin loomed over her, once more a shadow in Eira’s softening gaze. “I gave you a choice. Ibeggedyou not to. But you killed him, you butchered him for them all to see.”
“He was…a monster,” Eira forced through her tightening jaw. Her whole body felt like it was on a loom, stretching and tightening with every turn of the wheel. “Like mother…like father…like son.” She didn’t regret killing Ferro for a second and never would.
Ulvarth strolled over as she spoke. His hand rested lightly on Yewin’s arm. The woman leaned to him, like a flower yearning for the sun.
“Let us end this, so we can return to building our glorious kingdom.”
43
Eira fought to push away from the ground. The invisible hands that set her ablaze continued to hold her. Ulvarth loomed over her as he leaned forward. His hand closed around the dagger on Eira’s thigh, drawing it.
“I imagined killing you with this,” he whispered.
“Thatwill be your demise,” Eira forced herself to say.
“Such bold words for a woman about to meet her maker.” Ulvarth smirked. “Tell Yargen that her Champion will continue fighting for her glory.”
He moved the blade toward her throat. The movement was slow and purposeful. Like one would approach carving a steak. It whispered,I’m going to enjoy this, without him having to say so much as a word.
Not like this. The words almost escaped. But she denied him the satisfaction of her desperation. She’d die on her feet, fighting. Not on her knees like an animal brought to slaughter.
Focus!The command was in Adela’s voice.Focus!Once more, this time her own.
Ice coated her throat right before the blade could meet it. Ulvarth’s brow knitted. Eira smirked up at him. Confusion turned to fury.
With a grunt of rage, he grabbed for the needle-dagger Yewin had been holding and stabbed it through Eira’s left hand—nailing her to the floor. She let out a yelp, mostly from shock. Then from the pain of fresh waves of agony.
“I was going to grant you the honor of a soldier’s death. But die like the cur you are.” Ulvarth stood.
Glaring up at him, Eira ripped out the dagger. Ice coated the floor and walls. The room became a frozen coffin.
But it wasn’t her magic.
“I was always told that you had a propensity for touching things that weren’t yours.” A voice as cold as winter slithered across the frost-covered room. “Seems some men never learn.”
