Bellius leaned against a boulder, sword in hand, shield dangling from the other. “Impressive work for a High Fae whore.”
The male pushed off the rock of the archway, not sparing a glance at the warriors he’d let die for him. “You know, our god—the first of the Illyrians—held the ground against enemy hordes right where you’re standing.”
There wasn’t a scratch on him. No sign of exhaustion despite the climb.
Bellius smirked. “He drew a line in the dirt as well.” He nodded toward it. “Nice little touch.”
Nesta hadn’t known that tidbit of their history. But she revealed nothing. She became blood and dirt and pure determination.
“It didn’t end well for Enalius,” Bellius went on. “He died after defending this spot for three days. Climbed with his guts hanging out to the sacred stone at the top and died there. It’s why we do this stupid thing. To honor him.”
She still didn’t speak. But Bellius’s eyes drifted to the peak above. Displeasure narrowed them. “My crippled cunt of a cousin and that half-breed disgrace this sacred place.”
A flutter of light from the summit washed over Bellius’s features.
Nesta’s lips curled. Widened into a smile at Bellius’s growl.
Gwyn and Emerie had touched the sacred stone and been winnowed away by its magic.
“Seems like you didn’t win,” Nesta said to Bellius at last.
Hatred darkened Bellius’s glassy eyes. As if in answer, snow began falling, great clouds twining around the mountain. Rumbling. The snow clung to the rocks this time.
“I never wanted to win.” Bellius’s mouth twitched upward. “I just wanted this.”
He launched at her.
CHAPTER
72
Emerie and Gwyn had won. They’d made it through the Breaking. It was enough.
Nesta only had to hold this asshole off for a few more minutes—until dawn. Then it’d be over. Her power would return, and she could … Nesta didn’t know what she’d do. But at least she’d have that weapon.
Bellius lunged, swifter and surer than the others.
Nesta barely had time to lift her shield. The impact shook her to her bones, but he was already pivoting, his own shield swinging for her face—
She twirled out of range. Gods, she was tired. So, so tired, and—
He didn’t stop. Didn’t give her a moment’s reprieve as he attacked, parrying and thrusting, driving her back toward the line, the archway. Hatred burning in his face.
Such blind, driving hatred. Without reason. Without end.
The snow thickened, the wind howling, and the sky rumbled. Bellius struck again, and Nesta lifted her shield, meeting the blow.
Lightning flashed, thunder booming in its wake.
A storm had swept around the mountain, veiling the moon, the stars. Only the lightning arcing across the sky provided illumination to Bellius’s onslaught.
She was on the defensive, and if she wanted to survive this, she had to find some way to change that—
But the snow slickened the stones, the dirt, and as lightning lashed across the sky again, blinding them both, he thought faster. Acted faster.
Used her blink to slam his shield into her own, knocking it from her grip.
It clattered onto a stone nearby. Her fool’s look toward it had him knocking the sword from her hand, too.
Disarmed like a novice.
Thunder cracked again, and Bellius laughed. “Disappointing.” He paused, surveying her. And smiled before he attacked once more.
Nesta dodged assault after assault, but not fast enough to avoid the precise slices Bellius landed to her arms, her legs, her face. She slowed, her feet sliding on the slippery mountainside as the thunder-snow raged.
Another blow and her feet left the ground. The breath slammed out of her as her spine hit something unyielding. A boulder.
Nesta’s body refused to move as she panted. Warm blood trickled out of her nose.
Bellius approached, tossing his weapons aside. “Doing this with my bare hands will be so much more satisfying.”
Move.
The word rang through Nesta. She had to keep moving.
On shaking hands, as lightning cracked and the snow swirled, Nesta pushed up off the rock. Her legs trembled, begging her to sit, to stop, to just fucking die already.
Bellius advanced, his powerful body sinking into a fighting position. The wild hatred in his gaze seared her.
Her friends had made it … but she did not want to die.
She wanted to live, and live well, and live happily.
Wanted to do it with—
Nesta braced her feet apart. Settled her aching, battered body.