Page 126 of The Blood Crown

Asher slashed blindly with his dagger, clutching the scythe to his chest and coughing as sulfur burned along his throat, his nostrils.

His vision came back to him in mottled gray as the cloud of ash dispersed. Only two figures remaining in the confined space of the corridor—

The demon prince.

And a Wraith.

Strands of Seth’s raven hair had come loose from the knot at the top of his head, grime streaked across his face as he fought the prince, his movements beautiful and deadly.

Asher had trained with the Wraiths long enough to know that where Karro was a crash of heavy steel, Seth was the wickedly sharp blade in answer. The graceful current of a swift river ready to pull you under.

Asher ran toward the two males, lunging for the prince as Seth’s blade slashed. A relentless attack.

Seth’s sword gleamed with black blood, but the prince had no visible weapons at all.

His eyes were cold with rage, mouth curved into a cruel slash as he clutched a raised fist.

Seth was lifted off his feet by the prince’s dark magick, legs dangling in the air as he struggled for breath.

Using the distraction, Asher slid across the floor, raising his dagger and plunging it into the demon prince’s exposed side. The blade rasped along his ribs, the prince grunting with irritation as he released Seth and threw him to the ground.

Seth rolled back on his feet, circling the prince again, his breath labored as the prince turned his black eyes toward Asher.

The demon gritted his teeth in annoyance as he pulled the blade free, tossing it to the stone floor with a clatter, then advanced on him.

His shadow swallowed him, seeming to grow impossibly taller as he stepped forward.

Asher gripped the scythe, boots crushing the chips of stone beneath them.

A whirlwind of shadow broke the space.

Seth emerged from the night-colored wisps, pressing a coin to the demon’s forehead.

The prince let out a sound that no mere man could make—the noise ripping through Asher’s skull as the demon’s skin smoldered and charred beneath the metal, until he burst into green flames.

Seth's hand wrapped around his arm, shadows swirling like a raging tempest, plunging them into weightlessness.

Asher was thrown to the ground as they appeared in front of the black fortress carved into the mountains.

It would take him awhile longer to get used to casting . . .

He looked down to the relic still clutched against his chest, a small wave of relief washing over him.

They’d get the scythe within the safety of Ravenstone’s walls, and then they could go back to the battle.

He turned, looking to where Seth stood beside him—the Wraith unusually still as he gazed up at Ravenstone's black gates.

“Seth—” he murmured, trying to shake him from his daze.

It was only then that his eyes drifted lower . . . to where the Wraith had his hand pressed to his ribs.

Seth pulled it away, red coating his palm as his ruby eyes flicked up to Asher, something like an apology knitting his dark brows together.

He fell to his knees, lips parted in whispered words too low for Asher to understand, peace smoothing the lines of pain that had been etched into his face.

Chapter 68

Shadows spilled from Karro’s fingertips as he wrapped them around Maloch’s legs.

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