Page 44 of A Reign of Storm and Madness

“What?” I blink at her. “Have what?”

“I saw you on the Day of Descendance!” she snaps. The water orb above her palm spikes out and then begins to spin faster.

Interesting, I think. Her divine power is controlled by her emotions. I had to work for my power, to strengthen it, but I’ve never felt that my emotions influence it to this degree.

“You walk in with that outfit, practically proclaiming that you’re being shared between them. The three Darkhavens have never shared one woman between the three of them. Sure, perhaps Theos and Kalix, but—”

“Whoa, hold on.” I lift my hands, palms facing her, but it seems my words only spur her into action as she takes my sudden pause as her cue to leap forward, thrusting her palm and the water ball from her grip. The spikes shoot out, stabbing into me as water splashes down my front before I can skid out of the way.

“Motherf—” My dagger is in my hand in the next second, yanked from its hiding place at the small of my back and I let my own power infuse it, darkness curling around the blade as I lift my eyes to meet hers.

Rahela’s smile falters and then her eyes widen. “No … you can’t be…” She gapes at me, shock disrupting her momentum as she stumbles.

Her body slams into mine and I use the movement to turn the two of us. My blade lifts and I slide it up her body, the cut going straight through her middle up her breasts and then trailing off at her neck. She cries out and cups her hands over her throat.

Blood gushes down her opened tunic. “You’re a fucking mortal!” she shrieks. “You can’t be—”

Frost has already begun to form over my shaking limbs. A gasp escapes me as the little ice chips spread from my clothes to my skin, burning into me. I try to bat them away, but they cling even harder, like living creatures doing their Mistress’ bidding. I clench my hands tighter around the hilt of my dagger.

One. No more stalling. The countdown has ended.

I raise it once more, intending to slice through her throat and end her miserable fucking existence. Ice crawls over my hands and when I tighten my hold, it flakes off.

The brimstone in the back of my neck heats, fire trailing a path down my spine. My knees hit the floor as a shocked and pained cry echoes out. It’s not the ice but the fucking stone. It vibrates beneath my skin, every movement sending ricocheting tendrils of agony up and down my back and through my skull until I swear it’ll explode. My vision fades for a moment and then a heavy crack lands and it clears again.

I blink my eyes open, not realizing I’d closed them, and glance up to see Rahela staring down at me with a vile twist to her lips. Her eyes are no longer glowing, but normal and dull as her hair flutters around her face in long dark tendrils. Her hands shake as she latches them into my hair.

Where the fuck is my dagger? The brimstone heats again and I bite down on my tongue, tasting blood to keep from screaming as it arches up and through me.

“You shouldn’t exist,” she says. “You’re forbidden. You have to be.” It sounds like she’s talking to herself more than me. She keeps repeating herself over and over again, the noise of her words like swords through my eardrums.

She rips my head back as water continues to ice down my body, crawling down to my limbs and sinking into my flesh. Were I human, I likely would already be close to hypothermia by now. A shiver overtakes me and tears leak from the corners of my eyes. The pain stems not from her pathetic powers, but from the damned brimstone shard.

Work, damn it. I urge my fingers even as my whole body seizes with the pain in my neck. The brimstone has never reacted this way—not since the day it was put in.

Hold her down! Grab her legs, get her arms. Don’t let—I can feel my mind wanting to go back to that horrid night, but I bite down on my tongue harder, sending a wash of blood towards the back of my throat and the fresh pain makes the memory recoil until I’m firmly in the present.

“Even if you are a forbidden child,” Rahela spits the words at me as she pulls my head back further. “This is a mercy—if I tell, they’ll kill you. I want that right. It’s my right to kill the whore who took what was mine.” I barely feel the strands of my hair ripping free. By the Gods, it feels more like a massage compared to the torture of the brimstone’s flames stroking through my bones.

I don’t understand what’s happening to the inside of my body, but I do know that if I don’t fucking move, if I don’t do something, I’m going to end up dead.

More water forms at Rahela’s outstretched palm and begins to ice over once more. She curls her fingers around the beginnings of a hilt as the water extends, frost crawling down the hovering droplets to form a blade.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Thunder rumbles overhead, louder and louder. My eyes pop open once more. Rahela flicks her gaze skyward and then her lips curve upward when her eyes connect with mine.

Son of a motherfucking bitch. After everything I’ve survived, I am not going to die like this. I extend my hands out to the floor, seeking, searching. There! I curl my fingers around the handle of my blade, fighting past the pain as my gaze narrows above me. The line cut through her tunic, making the fabric hang on either side of her breasts, is already starting to heal.

Thunder rumbles again. My dagger is in my palm before Rahela can even blink and I use my own pain as a force, fighting not against it, but pushing it beneath me to help me stand as I launch myself up. More hair tears free as she tries to keep her hold but fails. The metal of my blade slices through her ice as it darts between us to protect her, cutting it clean in half and then slicing through something with more warmth.

For a moment, time stills. I stand there, panting as the painful fire recedes from my mind with dizzying speed. Rahela’s staring at me, her lips parted and gaping like a fish gasping on land. She chokes and then the line of red appears at her throat, coinciding perfectly with the line up her middle. Blood dribbles out like the perfect necklace without a back just as the door to my room slams open and three incredibly powerful and incredibly pissed off Mortal Gods arrive.

Rahela puts her hands to her throat and turns to them. Blood flows over her fingers and between them. Theos’ face goes slack with shock, the fury dropping away to reveal stark confusion. He gapes at Rahela as she stumbles away from me and towards him. Ruen’s brow is creased and his eyes flash from Rahela to the blood-coated dagger in my palm.

Kalix takes action though. The first one to do so, he strides through his brothers, half shoving them to the side as his gaze connects with mine and then with a wicked grin, he takes Rahela’s head in his hands and snaps her neck to the side with a loud, sickening crack!

My stomach threatens to expel everything in it when her body sags and he doesn’t just stop there. I watch, wide-eyed and horrified, as Kalix grips her shoulder with his free hand and clamps his other over the top of her head. Then, as if it doesn’t take more effort than one might exert in rending a shirt, he tears her head from her shoulders, where it’s connected to her spine ripping away as well.

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