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The impact knocked the grin right off my face as pain bloomed in my bones. I blinked, rolling into a crouch. Shit. I’d crashed into a palace hallway. My braids were singed at the ends—volcano diving tended to do that—and I could still taste ash and lava. One heartbeat, I was in the Underworld; the next, I was surrounded by fancy architecture and paintings of hunting.
Battle sounds swelled—clashing blades, pounding footfalls, shouts, and screams. And among them, Rowan’s enraged cry. He was in the thick of it. They were surging toward the corridor where I’d landed.
I broke into a sprint, needing to see him safe, needing to fight by his side, until I saw him standing amid the massacre, silver hair dripping with blood, his and others’. His sword cut through guard formations. Seven bodies already decorated the floor, while a dozen more still lunged at him.
His white tunic hung in ribbons, the fabric slashed open to reveal deep gashes smearing his shoulder in fresh red. His leather pants had gone from fashionable to biohazard.
Shit. Someone had spilled his secret.
“Sugar, hold on!” I shouted. “Here I come!”
Rowan’s silver eyes swept toward me as he parried another wave of guards. Pure, devastating joy flashed across his face before terror snuffed it out.
“Beloved, flee!”
“Flee?Flee?” I challenged. “To where, sugar?”
“Anywhere but here,” he yelled back, his blade sailing toward another foe. “I’ll find you!”
“You already found me,” I said, launching at the nearest guard, every muscle singing with giddy violence. I never shied from a fight. Battle was in my blood, honed by decades of protecting Barbie.
My claws extended mid-leap. A guard wheeled toward me, mouth open, an insult already forming. “You don’t deserve to be a fae lady, insurgent! The king will strip your noble title!”
“And give it to you?” I asked, baring my fangs. “I’m no fae, stupid. I’m more. Much more. And you’re nothing but a footnote in my history."
“Don’t tell them, little monster,” Rowan called while fighting like a whirlwind.
He was still trying to protect my secret identity, but I was done hiding. It was time to step into the light and shine. After two decades trapped inside Barbie, only able to talk to her or my fae lover during brief escapes, I was finally free, completely and permanently. And I was in achattymood, no matter the audience.
Four guards lunged at Rowan from all sides. He moved, blades flashing, and three were down before they could blink.
“Don’t worry, sugar,” I called over the clash of steel. “Barbie’s not with me. She went to see Killian and his dragon.”
For a second, Rowan’s eyes widened. Good. Now that he knew Barbie and I had separated, he could have me all to himself. I hoped that lit a fire under him, something fierce enough to burn through his battle fatigue.
My limbs stretched longer, talons already slicing through a guard’s throat before he could take another step. I was still a chameleon, deadly and adaptable. His cartilage gave way, blood spraying as his eyes flared in shock.
Fae ladies usually played pretty in court, all seduction and perfume. He hadn’t expectedthis.
“Thanks for underestimating me, douche,” I said, yanking my claws free. “My sister likes to play dumb and fly under the radar, but that’s not my style.” He was dead before he hit the ground, so my explanation fell on deaf ears. Not cool. I raised my voice to draw the others away from my mate. “Yes, I have a sister! Proud to say she’s the infamous ugly Barbie!”
“Kill that annoying bitch along with the bastard!” roared a giant guard—their ringleader, clearly.
“Stupid oaf,” I shot back. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been the silent sister? And don’t you call my mate a bastard. Nowbegfor death, starting with a please.”
I missed having Barbie beside me, as she was always more destructive. Her dark flame could’ve roasted these guards in one strike. Since our separation, our magic had diverged: mine leaned toward creation, hers toward annihilation.
Two guards charged, one from five o’clock, the other from eleven. Fae guards had brute strength and cold hearts. Their blades sliced toward me, one low, one high, leaving no room to duck or leap. So I went horizontal, hand outstretched. A mist swirled, and Deathsong slapped into my palm.
Aloha,the evil blade chimed.
I swung, and Deathsong cut through their swords. At the same time, I lashed out with my leg, ramming my foot into Guard A’s jaw. Bone cracked. Deathsong kept going, burying itself to the hilt in the second guard’s gut. Instead of just bleeding out, he went up in flames.
Barbie only used the evil blade on Shriekers, a dark weapon forged by an evil god. When Deathsong tasted immortal flesh, it laughed gleefully.
You came,I said to the blade in silent thanks.
