Page 119 of The Dawn of the Cursed Queen

“No.” I smiled. “I’m worse, actually.” And then I charged.

He wasn’t aware of my feedings. He didn’t know how much power I had been harboring, how much rage, hate, and anger I had honed to a fine-tipped blade, readying it to pierce the very hearts who ripped mine out. But he and the realms were about to find out just how much of a hateful bitch I could be.

STEEL RANG AGAINST STEEL, ECHOING THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS OF Flagerun. Every hit I made, he parried or blocked. We darted around each other, both of us glaring and filled with hate. It was a dance we were destined for since the day we met. I hated Vincent, and he hated me. Vincent’s blade sliced through the air with a whistle, aiming to slice my head off. I ducked and spun. Using a move Samkiel had taught me, I raised my spear and slashed across his face. I smirked, glad I had managed to get that stupid helmet off his head in the first moments of the fight. Vincent stumbled back and touched the cut on his cheek. He pulled his hand away and looked at the bright blue celestial blood coating his fingertips.

Vincent smiled at me, his eyes cold and calculating. “Spinning uppercut. Samkiel actually taught you something. With how the two of you were going at it, I didn’t think he would take time away from fucking you to train you.”

“Careful, Vincent, you sound jealous.”

“The only thing I am jealous of is that you will find peace when I kill you in the next few minutes.”

He charged, aiming for my midsection. I hopped back, blocking his downward strike, my blade taking the brunt of the hit.

“You know,” I huffed, pushing him back, “I actually feel sorry for you. I always wanted a family and a home, and here you are, tossing it away for some washed-up, old hag who wants to be a ruler.”

Vincent braced his back foot on the slick stone and swiped his spear up. I spun away and rolled, snow and ice sizzling against the burning rocks.

“You’re even more of a fool than I thought if you think Nismera doesn’t already own these realms.”

“Yeah?” I said, stepping back once more. I had a plan, and like a puppy, he was following me right into my trap. “Couldn’t tell. Especially when she sends her lackeys to do the hard work.”

He scoffed and advanced. “You wouldn’t last a second against her. No one can. If Nismera ever shows up, it’s not for capture. It’s for death.”

“Gods.” A sick laugh left my lips, and I took another step back. “You really have a hard-on for her.”

His grip tightened on his spear, and he lunged forward, slashing at me again. I shifted to the side, and he slipped, slamming into the rock I pressed against. His spear hit the stone and fractured from the force. Vincent growled and tossed it to the side. I took advantage of his momentary distraction and jabbed him with mine. He bent back, dodging my blows, one after another. I’d be a liar if I said Vincent wasn’t a good fighter. He was part of The Hand, and Samkiel had trained them to be the deadliest warriors in this realm or the next. They were designed to fight beings like me or worse, but where he excelled at fighting, I was born from blood-thirsty rage. It was in my very makeup.

I spun the spear over my head, and he stepped in, his fist coming at me. I rammed the tip into the ground between us. Vincent moved back, and I smiled.

“You missed.” He smiled, sliding his foot further from where the spear stuck deep into the ground.

“Did I?” I asked, tipping my head as a crack formed around the spear tip and spread toward the rocks surrounding us. The boulder at my back let out a horrific groan and split. I pushed him toward it and stepped back. Vincent’s eyes widened as he stumbled. The rock came down on top of him, the force of it collapsing the cliff edge. We fell, rocks and boulders tumbling around us.

Wings erupted from my arms, just a partial shift to get me back to the top of the jagged cliff. I landed and dusted my hands off before willing the leathery appendages away.

A piercing pain ripped through my abdomen, forcing a gasp from me. I glanced down to see the tip of a silver sword protruding from my body. He ripped it out and slammed it back in. I screamed, my body lifted into the air and tossed aside.

I coughed, blood stinging my mouth. I tried to push up but slipped, pain igniting through every nerve in my body. There, in the snow with a blade dripping with my blood, stood Vincent, unscathed, unarmed, and with a weapon made by the gods themselves.

“You have all the makings of a goddess, you know?” Vincent slung my blood across the snow and took a step closer. “Your hubris will be your downfall. You are arrogant and cocky, rude and unskilled, and above all, just fucking annoying.” He kicked me onto my back, and darkness edged my vision, my body shuddering with pain.

“How?” I rasped. “How can you have that?”

Vincent shrugged, looking at the blade. Its shine was almost the same as Samkiel’s and far brighter than anything the celestials could wield. Celestials could not wield godly weapons. They were far too powerful and could burn them alive. My gaze snagged on the gauntlet he wore and where it connected with the sword. I didn’t have to guess who had given him that protection. Fuck. The Ig’Morruthen in me snapped and hissed, knowing that regardless of form, a godly weapon could kill me.

“Nismera made this.” He nodded and knelt before me. “Strong enough to kill a fate, which is what I was here for, but your death will bring me so much joy.”

“I suck with swords,” I said, punching him in the face. “I’m better with teeth and claws.”

Vincent tumbled back onto his ass, and I struggled to get up. He screamed in frustration and launched himself to his feet, wiping the bright blue blood from his face. I had just managed to get upright, clutching at my abdomen, when he swung that sword at me. I ducked, landing another punch to his gut. He stumbled back, and I placed my hand on the rock for leverage before kicking out, slamming my foot upside his head. He shook his head but didn’t stop coming at me, aiming for my legs, my arms, my head, any part he could reach. I wouldn’t lie. He was quick, and I felt his sword get close to my skin so many times.

Ignoring the pain in my gut, I tried to figure out how to disarm him as we danced around each other. I rolled behind a thick fallen log, and that sword came down, splitting it in half. I had an idea. It was a stupid idea, and I would have to be quick. Samkiel would be out of that tunnel soon, and he would come straight here after he saw what I’d done.

I rolled again, dodging as he slammed the blade down after me over and over again, and then I saw it. I felt the breeze as it lifted along the cliff. The edge beckoned me, and I jumped to my feet, grabbing his arm with one hand and head-butting him hard enough to throw him off balance. He stumbled, and I followed, kicking and punching as we went. He thrust the sword toward me, and I caught his arm against my body as he tried to slice me, the sharp edges and spikes of his armor cutting into my skin.

I lifted my leg and slammed my foot into his groin. Even with the armor, the kick was powerful enough to double him over in pain. I twisted his arm, flipping him over as I shuffled back a few feet, the rocks slipping beneath me. Vincent raised up, snarling at me as he pushed to his feet. He took a running start and raised his weapon. I grounded my feet, and when the blade came down, I grabbed his wrist and snapped it. His cry was sharp, but not as sharp as when I twisted the sword around and rammed it through his heart.

I jabbed the blade further into him, his eyes flickering cobalt blue, then dull as he grasped it, blood coating his lips. “This is for Samkiel, for Logan and Neverra, and Imogen. For Xavier, for Cameron, and everyone else you’ve ever hurt, you traitorous bastard,” I snarled, fire erupting in my palm. I slammed my hand against his face, smirking as my flames danced over his skin and slid beneath his armor.

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