“What about you?”
The torc suddenly pops open, and I wrench the knife back before I stab him, gaping a little as the torc falls into my hand.
Bael stares at it. Then at the knife. “I’ll be damned.”
“Don’t worry about me.” I tilt my head toward Kari. “I’m going to kill Rhykus. Now you need to live up to your moniker. Destroy it, Bael. Destroy it all.”
He captures my head, hauling me toward him for a fierce kiss. Then he pushes me away, a demonic smile stretching across his face. “As you wish, my lioness. I’ll be waiting for you.”
Wings of shadow stretch across the room. Torches flicker and candles snuff. Laughter cuts off as the guests look around nervously, and the music trails to a halt.
I step back through the crowd, unable to take my eyes off him as smoke swirls around him. Bael tilts his face toward the ceiling, his body seeming to stretch. A monster emerges, tail lashing and wiping out a dining table laden with fine crystal and fruits.
The first scream rings out.
And Rhykus sits forward, his face paling.
“Run,” Bael thunders, the sound shaking the room as smoke pours from his nostrils. A long serpentine neck appears, his dragon-like face sweeping through the smoke. Every inch of him is lithe, light glittering blue-black over his scales. His wings are enormous, and his tail swipes like a scythe and takes out a trio of hunters as he turns toward the cliff where Kari hangs.
Rhykus leaps to his feet, bellowing for archers. I see a pair of them fumbling with crossbows, and a chill runs down my spine.
For my hunter’s gaze has marked the softer underbelly of Bael’s body.
“Get out of my way!” I yell as I shove through the surging crowd.
The man with the bow is standing there gaping. He doesn’t see the true danger. I slit a line across his throat from ear to ear from behind, capturing the bow from suddenly lax fingers as his body crashes to the floor.
The first arrow feels like an old friend as I spin, drawing it tightly, the strings singing against my ear as I sight down the arrow.
“Kill her,” Rhykus commands, flicking his fingers toward me.
Clearly he’s realized that he can’t take Bael, not in his monstrous form. But I’m Bael’s weakness.
Crossbows turn toward me, but there’s nearly 90 feet between us and accuracy is on my side.
I unleash a bolt, turning and throwing myself into a roll as I snatch a second arrow. I’m up on my feet, the string singing as I draw again before the first arrow hits.
The first archer goes down, my second arrow arching toward the next one. A crossbow bolt slams into the wall behind me.
Rhykus gapes.
All my rage crystallizes as I focus on him, snatching up another arrow.
Not all the women here are brides. A lot of them have been trapped in this Labyrinth, trying to merely survive. I can’t save them all. But maybe, if I kill one slaver, I’ll save hundreds of future brides who don’t even know what fate has in store for them yet.
The arrow looses.
And my aim is true.
Rhykus jerks back, the feathers sinking chest-deep. I draw and loose again, driving another arrow straight through his groin. He screams, going down on one knee.
I’d like to see him suffer, just a little bit.
But who knows what magic the people here have. I can’t risk him surviving.
So I sink a final arrow through his throat.
Rhykus topples backward, dead before he hits the floor.
