Page 125 of The Blood Crown

The black sutures across Maloch’s mouth twisted in what might have been a leer as he looked down at Karro. And gripped in one of his mighty fists—Valea.

Maloch’s voice flooded the night.I caught this one trying to flee the battle.

Aurelia might have thought the words a lie—but something flickered across the fierce female’s expression that she hadn’t seen before . . .

Shame.

The female scratched and clawed at the prince, dangling from his grasp as Karro tightened his grip on his broadsword.

I could do you a favor—kill the coward for you,Maloch uttered, the words making Valea rabid as she fought against his hold.

Karro snarled in response, his blade slicing toward the prince’s chest as Maloch discarded the pale female and Valea hit the frozen ground with a thud.

Maloch’s heavy blade fell with a deafening ring as it met Karro’s.

With a single shared look, she and Ven were fighting their way toward him, the blade strapped down her back seeming to grow heavier with every step. Glancing across the courtyard, she saw one of the other princes surrounded by a dozen Wraiths.

Where was the other?

It was enough to send her heart hammering in her chest, feet pounding the earth.

Light flashed around them as the spellmasters threw orbs into the crowd of demons, flickers of white and gold exploding with the shards of ravenstone packed into the glass.

Ven lashed out with coils of shadow, wrapping them around Maloch’s thick neck as the prince struggled to fight off Karro’s attacks.

The last time they’d met him, all of them had been without their magick. But now—now a copper crescent had been placed on the scales, tipping them in their favor.

Lightning sang through Aurelia’s veins in answer.

Maybe Fate was with them after all.

Chapter 67

The demon prince looked down at Asher with what might have been contempt or dispassion—it was difficult to tell in the depths of his wholly black eyes.

There was nothing monstrous about this one, nothing sinister about his mildly handsome features. And yet there was no mistaking the male for what he was.

Asher gripped his prize tighter, not caring as blood trickled down his hand onto his wrist as the blade bit into his skin.

Demons flanked the prince on either side. The ones that looked like maybe in another life they’d been something other than these creatures.

The prince raised a hand, stilling them with a single unspoken command, and Asher wondered if it was for show. The male could probably control them with a mere thought if he so wished.

He reached out a hand, flawless and smooth, offering Asher a choice.

But there had never been a choice.

Asher had known he would die this day—and he would die with purpose.

He raised the black blade in his hand—the look on the prince’s face unmistakable this time as his lips thinned into a line.

The demons behind him crawled forward.

The corridor behind him was open—but if he ran, he’d only draw those things further into the palace toward the women and children seeking shelter here.

And so he held his ground, even as the dark creatures shambled forward and closed in.

Darkness exploded around him, snuffing out the torches along the walls and plunging the corridor into pitch black as the floor beneath them shuddered with the mighty impact.

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