“And now you hunt me like an animal.” I circle her slowly. Shewatches my every step, ready to lunge. “On whose orders? Ravin’s? Or your mother’s?”
To her credit, she doesn’t flinch. But her voice is far more composed than her posture. “Turn yourself in.”
“You know I never will. And you’re not in any position to negotiate.” My fingers tighten on the hilt of the dagger in my palm; blood from all those I’ve slain drips from its blade. The weapon thrums faintly, as if purring, pleased with the carnage I’ve offered it.
“Neither are you, by the looks of it,” she counters, eyes flicking to the bruises and wounds across my body. “You’re exhausted, Clara, held together by magic alone. But after picking off my knights…just how much do you have left to give? How much time do you have before your enhancements run out? Do you have enough cards in whatever decks you’ve stolen to keep going?”
I ignore her, not allowing weakness to show. “Tell me what you know about my mother’s death, and maybe I’ll let you live.”
Her lip curls into a snarl. “There is no world in which I negotiate with a traitor.” Her hands continue to rest on her weapons, but no card is drawn, and her blade remains sheathed.
She has an opening and she’s not attacking. She’s probably waiting for reinforcements. But the Emilia I knew would attack first and ask questions later—Eza was proof of that. Which means…
She must be under orders to bring me in alive.It’s the only explanation for why I’m still standing. She’d need a lot more muscle to overpower me without killing me.
“This isn’t a negotiation…think of it more like an order,” I say to goad her.
“Your mother’s choices led to her end—just like yours will.” It’s a nonanswer. As I’m figuring out her game, she’s figuring out mine. She knows that I want this information more than I want to attack her.
However much we want to kill each other, we’re holding back blades and cards, seeing who breaks first.
“Herchoices?” I take a step forward, waving the dagger nonchalantly as the sound of footsteps growing closer echoes down thetunnels. “You mean the choices she was forced to make because of the precious king you defend so ardently and thoughtlessly? You’re no better than a dog. You would turn on your own family if your king commanded you to.”
Emilia’s control snaps, her face flushing as her voice pitches higher. “Better a bitch than a whore.”
“Excuse me?” My tone sharpens in kind. The knuckles of the fist around the dagger turn white.
“Lies and deceit…you’re so much like her,” Emilia almost growls. “Seducing your way into the arms of powerful men.”
The accusation stings more than it should. Memories of Kaelis’s touch flash through my mind—his hands in my hair, his lips on my neck, the weight of him pressing me into his bed. The way he looked at me like I was something to be worshiped and destroyed all at once.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I caution her.
“I know enough,” she sneers.
My eyes narrow. This is about more than me.What does she know about my mother?
“Why aren’t you killing me?” For the first time, there’s no venom, just genuine curiosity in my words.
Her panic flashes in her eyes. Something that she’s more afraid of than me—of not capturing me.
Whatever it is, it doesn’t linger. With a grunt and the speed of a whip, she lunges, card and steel both at the ready.
I sidestep her first swing, my dagger deflecting a second attack. There’s a burst of fire—Ace of Wands—and I dart back, parrying the blaze with the cool ice of an Ace of Cups.
“Still fast with your blades,” I say, voice surprisingly steady despite my racing heart.
“To think I once used them to defend you,” she snaps, slashing again, faster this time.
I duck low and use the Ace of Coins to shift the rock beneath her boots. She recovers quickly as I lunge. Our weapons lock, the clash of metal ringing sharp throughout the tunnels. The few remaining Stellismust be nearly upon us. Gregor and Jura can only keep them busy for so long. I’ve already used a lot of energy and magic. I’m not going to be able to take them on all alone. But I don’t dare hope my friends enter the fray, either.
“How will you ever survive the shame?” I say, our faces close as we each struggle to get the upper hand.
“Capturing your head might be enough of a balm.” She throws me back just as the last of the living Stellis arrive, emerging from an attached passage. They stop right in the entry.
“Captain!” the leader of the three calls, drawing both of our attention.
My heart sinks, and my whole body freezes.
