My heart pounds loudly in my chest, drowning out all the other sounds in the forest. The dagger’s cool blade against my chest reminds me I’m not without protection, and I reach for the only weapon I have, clutching it tightly in one fist.
I keep my footsteps light, doing my best to not step on anything that would cause the hooded figure to turn back and spot me. I feel every rock and piece of sharp earth against my bare feet but ignore the pain. For five minutes, we walk, me a short distance behind him until the smell of the river infiltrates the air.
The River Hel is in poor shape, even worse than last time. It’s almost completely black in color and smells of rot and decay. The putrid smell nearly makes me vomit up the remnants of breakfast this morning. Does Oziel know just how bad the river has gotten? What does this mean for his magic?
The hooded figure crouches alongside the river, pulling something small out of his pocket. Shiny black liquid gleams in the vial, sparkling like a captured miniaturegalaxy. There’s a presence to the liquid, one that makes every part of my body rebel, telling me something isn’t right. This is wrong. All wrong.
It’s the poison.
The only thought going through my mind is ridding the hooded figure of the vial. They’re so preoccupied with its contents, they don’t hear me approaching. The weight of the dagger doesn’t seem like a burden any longer, but a necessity. A necessity to kill and protect what is mine. Because, for as long as I’m married to Oziel, this kingdom is mine to protect. I will go to any lengths necessary to protect those I deem important, and Oziel is important to me, no matter how much I wish to deny it.
The dagger rises above my head as I come within a few feet of the hooded figure. Then, just as I prepare to strike, the hooded figure spins around with supernatural speed, their face obstructed by shadows. I see nothing but their deep red orbs shining with malevolence, a true evil I’ve not yet experienced. Not even with James. There’s nothing remotely human about this thing in front of me. And yet, I can’t help but feel a familiarity, like I’ve seen them before.
“Foolish human,” it screeches, voice unrecognizable. They say “human.” Not “demon.” My disguise must no longer be in effect. The little protection I once had is now gone, leaving me vulnerable.
The stranger brings their hand up, blasting me with a red smoke. It hits my chest, stealing the breath from my lungs as I stumble back. Something snags my foot, causing me to lose my balance and flailas I fall. Pain erupts within me the moment I hit the ground. Small rocks and hard dirt do nothing to cushion my fall. My chest burns from where the red smoke hit me.
I don’t have time to gather myself because the hooded figure is on top of me. Fear surges within me, and I scream, kick, and wildly swing the dagger, hoping to cut something. I’ve never had formal training with any weapon—Grym Hollow isn’t exactly known for producing warriors, but I know how to survive. Pure stubbornness has kept me alive this long, and it will help me now.
I manage to get one of my legs free from under their weight and use all my strength to bring it up between their legs. Male or female anatomy, a knee to the groin is going to hurt. My attacker grunts, loosening their hold on me. With quick precision, I slash the dagger across their arms and face, drawing blood. It isn’t a killing blow. Hell, it won’t even hold them back for long, but it is enough for me to wiggle free from underneath them.
Scrambling to pick myself off the ground, I round on my attacker. Despite the clear pain they’re in, they haven’t dropped the shadows from obscuring their face. “Show yourself, you coward!”
Low, mocking laughter greets me in response, but it’s still impossible to tell if the attacker is a man or woman. Their mockery sends chills down my spine, reminding me I’m alone. A human in a world of monsters. I don’t have Oziel or his powers on my side, even if Oziel says I have my own power. I don’t even have Garvan to run to for protection, assuming the advisor would help. He seems nice enough,but is he a fighter?
“Fools. All of you,” my attacker speaks again, stalking toward me like a predator in the night. I’m the cornered prey, looking for my escape route. I’m too far away to scream for help; someone should have heard me already. Besides, they are all too busy fucking to decipher the difference between a scream of pleasure and a scream for help. I’m completely alone and at the mercy of the stranger before me.
Keep them talking. Find a way to get out of this.
“Why are you doing this? You’re putting your people in danger.” My back hits a tree, and I silently curse. I grip the dagger like a life force, wishing it was a gun. Guns seem much more effective. Daggers? This is some medieval bullshit I’m not accustomed to.
“Only temporarily. I’m the only one assuring our survival. Your precious king is growing weaker by the day, occupied with you, his new human queen. It’s only a matter of time before he falls, along with anyone else who tries to stop me.”
“So, what, you want to be king? Is that it?” I think back to Oziel’s story of his parents. How his own people betrayed them. Is the past repeating itself now? Do enemies blend in so easily that we overlook them? Clearly.
“I deserve to rule!” they hiss. “And I will do more to bring down the Nephilim than a weak king who can’t save his people. The king is far too prideful to see past his own nose. His reign will end us all if we allow it, and I won’t.”
Anger blooms in my chest. Anger for Oziel, but I can’t fly off the handle. Any sudden movement willalert them to my attack. There’s only one way out of this, and it’s to fight.
My opportunity to strike comes a moment later when rustling in the bushes followed by a demon giggling with another pulls my attacker’s attention away from me and into the forest. I don’t think; I just act.
The hilt of the dagger is heavy in my hands as I rush the attacker. I pushed a dagger through one person today; I can do it again.
Their chest is exposed to me, providing a perfect target. I grip the dagger tightly, channeling every last ounce of my strength as I raise it high, ready to deliver a fatal blow. But just as I thrust downward, the demon attacker twists away with inhuman speed. My blade misses its mark, sinking instead into the thick muscle of their thigh.
A guttural howl erupts from my attacker—a monstrous sound laced with both agony and fury. Their crimson eyes burn like bright embers in the darkness, radiating pure malice. My body freezes, terror taking over.
“You’ll pay for that—” they start, but they’re eclipsed by dozens of screams coming from the direction of the ball. Terrified voices grow closer as demons escape into the forest for safety.
What is happening? And where is Oziel? New fear I’ve never experienced before takes hold of me. Part of me knows I should stay with this attacker because it might be our one chance at figuring out who is betraying us. Yet every fiber in my body calls out to Oziel. He needs me, and I need to make sure he’s okay. Hehasto be okay.
But my decision is made for me when I turn back to the attacker. Darkness and shadows surround them, covering their entire body. “I will see you and the king dead soon enough,” they speak. When the shadows clear a moment later, the attacker is gone.
There’s no time to mourn losing the attacker, though the missed chance to uncover their identity is infuriating. I can dwell on that later. Right now, I gather up my dress, muttering curses at the cumbersome—albeit beautiful—ballgown, before breaking into a sprint, racing toward the ballroom. Toward the danger.
Toward Oziel.
Chapter 28
