The ancient vampire screeched in frustration, gathering more shadows in its palms.
Taking advantage of the First’s distraction, Marius sliced his blades down its back, drawing more blood.
The First shrieked, spinning towards him. It scowled, its dark eyes promising a painful death.
Marius cursed as the feral vampire threw darkness at him. He jumped out of the way, but the shadows grazed his cheek. Ice burned across his face, and he bit back a cry.
Then, Vivienne was there, fighting the First alongside him.
Time slipped on.
None of Marius’s training had ever prepared him for something like this.
The feral vampire moved unnaturally. It was more dead than alive, and yet, it was one with the wind. No creature, even one blessed by the gods, should have moved like that.
Marius’s heart pounded, singing the same song as his magic.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
How could he have ever thought he could fight the First on his own?
If he and Vivienne survived this—something that was becoming less likely with every passing moment—he would have to offer a series of apologies.
First, to his bodyguard.
Then, to his sister and brother-in-law.
Marius shuddered to think about how angry the royals would bewhen they found out he’d been so close to death again. It was worse than before because this time, he’d placed himself in this position.
How horribly ironic would it be for him to survive the Wasting Illness, the fire that had killed his family, being abducted and taken to the Northern Kingdom, and the evil queen’s wrath only to die in a remote forest?
He couldn’t let that happen.
Reaching deep within himself, he pulled on threads of strength he didn’t know he possessed.
The First was charging towards Vivienne, its hand lifted as though to slash through her wings.
“No!” He couldn’t let those beautiful, dark appendages be torn to shreds and mangled beyond recognition.
He spun around, shouting at the top of his lungs as he raced towards the feral vampire. His ploy to get its attention worked. That was equally frightening and relieving.
The feral vampire roared like a lion about to devour its prey.
Marius didn’t think about what he was doing. He just acted.
His opponent slashed its arm through the air, aiming for Vivienne’s wings. He jumped in front of her, brandishing his dagger. He screamed as fire ran across his chest, and at the same moment, he thrust his silver dagger into the First’s heart. It was a perfect shot, sinking past sinew and bone to penetrate that vital organ.
That should’ve been it.
The silver should’ve killed the vampire on the spot.
But it didn’t.
Blood poured around the blade, a fountain of ink. Enough that anyone else would’ve died.
The First didn’t die, though. It didn’t even scream.
Instead, ancient lips stretched across its face in a macabre smile. Thecreature tilted its head, and a rough sound that might once have been considered a laugh slipped from its mouth.
