Mireille stepped forward, supported by Ronin. “Look, I’m not going to lie to you. The Koenig is the most skilled one-on-one fighter I’ve ever witnessed. But he’s notcompletelybeyond pain. Those scars on his back still bother him. If you can strike at them, it may disable him for a bit. Or at least distract him.” She narrowed her eyes, violence filling her voice. “And use whatever you learned about him in that memory you saw. Bevicious. Throw him off psychologically. Do whatever you have to do.”
Cassandra’s brows rose, and she darted her eyes toward Ronin. “Wayscarier than me,” he snickered, kissing Mireille’s temple, but the laugh didn’t quite reach his eye.
Tristan pulled Cassandra toward him, then speared a hand into her hair, their faces inches apart. “You can do this, Cass. Make the bastardworkfor it. You’re smart, you’re cunning, you’re agile, and you’re so, so strong. The strongest person I’ve ever met.” He planted a soft kiss on her lips. Not passionate and hungry. Not saying goodbye. Just a kiss that said,I believe in you. I believe that you will survive. I believe that you will come back to me.
Neither saidI love you. They’d say it after.
“What are you all doing in there?” Wormwood rasped from the throne room. “Have you changed your mind, challenger? Do I need to have the Brethren make another trip to the Kennel?”
Cassandra steeled her spine, kissed Tristan again, then sauntered through the archway.
The crowd in the throne room was larger than she expected given the silence.
The space directly in front of the dais was empty, the black stone floor gleaming like an obsidian pool in the buttery, late-afternoon sunshine. But every other available space was occupied by not only Brethren, but many of the city’s regular citizens. Several sported wounds and bruises, the results of their resistance against the Brethren.
Cassandra wondered why they weren’t locked up in the dungeons, then realized the Koenig would never pass up an opportunity to showcase his strength.
The male himself was seated on his throne, his baldric of knives crossing his bare chest and his eyes ringed in fresh kohl.
“Aww, you did your make-up for me, Aedelmar.” She winked. “I’m flattered.”
His frown deepened, whether at the jab or her use of his true name, she couldn’t tell.
From the floor before the dais, Wormwood offered Cassandra a mawkish smile, then gestured toward a cage of iron bars with a thick padlock.
“For your friends,” Wormwood preened. “Can’t have them rushing to your aid now, can we?”
Tristan tensed behind her, and she reached back to grab his wrist, running her thumb across his racing pulse. He didn’t protest as he pulled away and walked into the cage with the others.
Wormwood clanged the door shut and closed the padlock. Ronin assisted Mireille to the floor, then sat down behind her, cradling her between his legs and against his chest. Silas joined Tristan at the bars, wrapping his hands around them.
Cassandra lifted and lowered her wings, then smiled at Silas. Thanking him for his assistance. He smiled back.
She looked to Tristan once more, emboldened by the pride and love and certainty she found on his face. She rattled her feathers, preening at him.
Unbreakable. She sent the thought toward him.
Wormwood stepped toward her, then beckoned the Koenig to join them. “Challenger Fortin, since you’ve so graciously agreed to handle your appeal alone, the Koenig will allow you to choose which weapons you’ll be fighting with.”
Cassandra looked toward Mireille, who gave a subtle shake of her head. Cassandra wouldn’t choose swords, no fucking way. A month wasnotenough time to gain the skills necessary to fight off a male who’d been wielding a broadsword for nearly a thousand years. If Mireille and Ronin had been fighting alongside her, then sure, she would have chosen swords.
But facing the Koenig alone, there was only one way she had a chance.
She announced to the crowd, “I choose no weapons at all.”
The Koenig’s shark-like grin appeared as he slipped off his baldric, an eyebrow raised in approval. A portion of the crowd laughed at Cassandra’s decision, some out loud and some behind their hands.
And as the Koenig settled into his stance, at least a foot taller than her and far broader and stronger in every way, Cassandra wondered if she’d just made a terrible mistake.
The first move Cassandra made,something that inspired gasps throughout the hall and whooping cheers from the cage, was to activate her camouflaging feathers.
She didn’t fully achieve it. She could tell by where the Koenig’s eyes darted that pieces of her body were still visible—an area down by her legs and the upper half of her head.
But it was better than being completely exposed. Especially when the Koenig rushed for her.
She side-stepped, her body hidden enough to throw off his aim, and he skidded past her, smacking his palms against a column.
A snarl bubbled in his throat as he turned, his mad gaze glancing across her until he focused on her forehead.
