I didn’t remember landing, or running, or lunging. Only the satisfying spurt of blood that sprayed across my face as the Taker of Hearts found its mark, skewering through Simon’s back, right between his wings.
A deadly shot for anyone, human or vampire.
But Simon, I realized immediately, was not just a vampire right now.
He let out a snarl and reared back, dropping Raihn and whirling to me as I yanked my sword from his flesh and danced backward. When his bloodshot eyes fell to me, vacant and vicious, I felt like I was looking into the face of death itself.
And then I saw it:
The… thing fused into the skin of his chest. Metal and… bone?
My magic reacted to its proximity. Suddenly, Vincent’s presence seemed so much closer—but twisted, enraged.
Twisted, just like the pendant had been twisted, shattered. Melded with…
Teeth?
God teeth, I realized.
Fucking Septimus.
It seemed outlandish. It seemed ridiculous. The horror of it fell over me distantly. I didn’t have time to let myself acknowledge it.
He lifted his sword, but before he could bring it down, I lunged at him.
He responded immediately, our blades meeting, each clash more vicious than the last. He was bigger, stronger; I was faster. Still, he kept pace. My body crumpled beneath his blows and the force it required to deflect them. It took all my focus—but I remained perpetually aware of Raihn out of the corner of my eye, crumpled on the ground. When he slowly pushed himself up, I breathed a sigh of relief.
For a split second, before Simon was on me again.
My muscles screamed. His magic rivaled mine, even as my Nightfire poured from my skin, surrounding us. The burns didn’t seem to bother him, not even when the flames ate away at the delicate flesh around his mouth and eyes. He just stared through them, and smiled.
An empty smile. A dead smile.
I couldn’t remember when his first hit was—my side, perhaps, making me stumble just enough to make it difficult to evade his next lunge. When I looked up again to see his sword raised, I thought, This is it. The end.
Just as a streak of black-red came hurling in from his left side, sword drawn.
Raihn threw himself at Simon, the two of them tangling in a dance of destruction.
I hadn’t been able to hear anything over the violence and my own breath and heartbeat throbbing in my ears. But as I steadied myself, I chanced a glance down below—to the city of Sivrinaj.
It was a bloodbath.
Our opponents had been holding back. Now the full numbers of Bloodborn forces poured from the castle grounds, seeping through the city streets like a wave of fire. Ketura’s men had been beaten back, the squeals of dying demons drowning beneath the screams of dying vampires. Jesmine’s forces had risen from the tunnels, only to be met with a formidable force that was expecting them, and far outnumbered them.
And Simon—and whatever terrible, twisted magic he wielded—hadn’t even made it down there, yet.
We were fucked.
We were utterly fucked.
We needed to retreat. We needed to retreat now.
Raihn had seen what I did, or maybe the dawning horror on my face told him everything he needed to know.
When I launched myself back at Simon, he rasped out, “Go.”
The one word he could choke out.
I knew what he meant: Go to the armies. Go lead them away.
I didn’t even consider it.
We had only one shot at salvaging this, and that was by killing Simon here and now. I wasn’t going to run away. I wasn’t going to leave this man here to keep my throne and this twisted power he’d gotten from my father’s magic.
I’d had enough. My entire life, these people thought they could take everything from me.
And the thought of ceding one more single second to them enraged me.
My heartbeat throbbed in my ears, hot beneath my skin.
This is my kingdom, Vincent whispered, the words pulsing through my skin, my veins, my heart. This is my castle. Do not let anyone take it from me.
Mine, my heartbeat echoed.
This was mine.
I would not let anyone take it away. And I sure as fuck wasn’t going to let them kill Raihn to do it.
Raihn whirled around as more Rishan soldiers ran from the castle doors, surging for him—distracting him in this critical moment.
Not me. I barely noticed them.
I let my rage blind me, drive me, drown me as I threw myself at Simon.
My awareness narrowed to the satisfying sensation of my blade parting Simon’s flesh, the Nightfire swelling and overtaking my body, my magic flourishing in the depths of my uncontrollable rage.
Simon actually flinched, his body lurching.