Such inconsequential events were normally short-lived entertainment for his court. But the only thing that stayed his hand was Deimos informing him that this mortal was Alora’sfriend.
Rune flicked a finger. “Who stands before me?”
“Caelum Basile, honorary knight from Ironvale,” the moral said evenly. His voice carried no tremor but conviction. “I have come for the princess. Release her to me, and I will trouble your territory no further.”
The demons watching laughed, a bloodthirsty tension tightening the air.
Rune’s mouth curled with amusement and disdain. “You dare come here and make demands of a god? I allowed you to cross my threshold alive so mywifewould not mourn what is left of you. Should you wish to continue breathing,leave.”
Caelum’s throat bobbed, visible sweat beading on his brow. Rune could hear his heart racing like a frightened deer, yet the mortal still drew his blade and lifted his shield. “I cannot leave without her.”
All sound died.
Rune’s laugh carried through the quiet, and he leaned forward in his throne, shadows swarming. “Is that achallenge?”
The air shivered with anticipation, hungry for spectacle and his court laughed with him.
But Rune stilled at the sudden tug in his chest.
Alora.
Her consciousness brushed against his own, a wild, bright pulse that beat against his chest like a living drum. Worry, confusion, anger, they tangled together in his veins. Hecould feel her running through the halls, searching for him. Summoning him.
Then her voice blared in his head.Rune, where are you? Rune!
His claws dug faintly into the armrest, shocked that she was now speaking to him through their minds. Their bond… He smiled. It must at last be forming. The pull to go to her was instinctive, magnetic, demanding to find her.
He rose from the throne.
Don’t you dare hurt Caelum!
Rune froze mid-step. Her voice rang through his skull, clear as a bell and burning as sunlight.
For a heartbeat, he forgot the hall, the mortal, the hundreds of eyes watching him. He could hear her pulse, her breath, the raw force of her will binding itself to his through the invisible thread now sparking between their souls.
He had sensed it when she first woke. That fragile flicker of consciousness pressing against the walls of his mind, curious but distant. She hadn’t sought him then. Not when he wanted her to. Not when heneededher to.
She came to him now for the sake ofanother.
Ah.
So that’s what it took to make her call his name.
The thought hollowed him. Then it burned.
The realization split something in his chest he had not known could bleed.
Then it was buried beneath something primal, ancient. Like the Netherworld itself exhaled through him, and the air thickened around the throne. Every shadow in the room turned toward the knight.
Rune straightened slowly, the lines of his smile sharpening. The faint tremor that ran through the marble floor wasn’tentirely from his magic. It came from the effort it took not to eviscerate the mortal where he stood.
The air grew heavy. The scent of ash curled through the room. With a lazy flick of Rune’s hand, his shadows tore away Caelum’s weapons. The shield hit the floor across the throne room with a clang. His sword skidded across the marble, spinning end over end before vanishing into the shadows.
Rune descended the steps.
“Mortals,” he mused, voice tight. “They’re such amusing creatures. Always so willing to risk their lives for something that was never theirs to claim.”
Shadows crawled up the walls like wraiths, snuffing out the torches one by one.
