Page 14 of The Anointed's Paladin

“Would you care to join us?” she offered. “Guild members are always welcome.”

The prospect of spending my potential last days travelling with this group… I’d rather eat horse dung. Besides, you couldn’t trust anyone in a competition of the Gods. There was only ever one winner. And a lot of backstabbing and murder, if the histories were to be believed. Lydes had told me to killanyother champions, and I didn’t want to have to make the choice between myself and someone else.

“No, I travel alone,” I said, turning back to the cloaks. I was shocked to find one with a back piece that accommodated wings. I was buying that.

“Oh, come on. We could use a pair of strong arms,” she said, giving me a smile.

I turned to her. I was easily a good head and a half taller than her. I let the softness leave my face, and she took a step back.

“No,” I said again, taking the cloak off the shelf and brushing past her.

8

Meet-cut(e)

Talon

It was quiet here, the night carrying in a mist from the sea that clung to everything it touched, leaving wet kisses that soaked my clothes. I had left the village behind a few hours ago, deciding to make my way to the ruins of an old mill that I had spotted in the last light of the setting sun. I summoned a glowing orb to help light the path. At the very least, I could set up a camp for the night inside the building and escape some of this chill. I hadn’t entered the true forest yet and was not looking forward to navigating the dense woods.

I soon found I wasn’t the only one attracted to this building for shelter. Hearing movement up ahead—the makings of what seemed to be a skirmish—I slowed. I could feel the anticipation of a fight singing in my veins as I approached. Finally, one place Mirilith’s blood would be useful. It would be nice to get some pent-up frustration out. Sure, I could just walk away, but someone might be in trouble.

Peering round the corner, I saw an old courtyard, the flagstones uneven and crumbling, surrounded by overgrown trees. A few feet from me, a single person was backing up, cornered by twisted tree-like drisands. My hand shot to my sword as I saw he was vastly outnumbered.He flinched back as sharp, thorny projectiles landed at his feet. I heard the whoosh of more incoming. I rolled my shoulder, warming up for the fight.

Then I was rushing into the fray. I slammed my shield down in front of the figure and braced as the missiles hit the front. I had a chance to properly look down at the individual beneath me and felt my breath catch in shock.

The simple, if insufficient, way to describe him wasbeautiful; I had seen paintings of heavenly beings depicted on the walls of temples, and they could have been modeled after him. Messy, silver curls framed his round face. He had pale blue eyes under long lashes, and his creamy white skin glowed in the light of my orb. I found myself staring, entranced.

I braced myself as his eyes met mine. My wings and my horns clearly marked me as hellspawn. It was almost laughable how hideous I must look next to him. Disgust or disdain would come next.

But the surprise on his face gave way to a cocky half-smile, and he reached up. My eyes flicked to his lips, the gorgeous way they curved into a smile. My breath hitched as he placed his hand on my cheek, leaning closer. He hadn’t even hesitated, instead gently meeting my gaze.

“Looks like I have a gallant knight come to my rescue.” His voice was smooth, and melodic, and I felt a fluttering in my stomach. His thumb stroked my cheek, and it just felt…nice. I wanted to sink into his touch. His whole aura was beauty and enchantment. I wondered if this was what it was like to meet an angel.

His eyes slid to my hand and the traces of the golden brand.

I grunted in surprise and pain as he stabbed me in the side. My head swam as my desire and the pain swirled together in a delicious mix of pleasure. I suppressed the feeling—that wasnotappropriate.

His smile widened to a grin, showing off two sets of sharpened fangs. His delighted, cold face seared into my mind. His curls must be hiding his other feature—a small set of horns.

Maoferni.While my hellish bloodline was from Mirilith of the Fires, maoferni were descended from Mazroak, a bloodsucking demon known for stealth and trickery.

Not a creature I was supposed to rescue. He vanished from sight, slipping into invisibility, and leaving me.

I sank to my knees. I was breathless, my heart pounding and head spinning.

Shit, was this what it felt like to be enchanted?

…Nope.

Definitely a collapsed lung. I groaned, reality slamming into me all at once, the sounds of the fight, the cold air of the night.

I drew upon my healing, closing the wound and fixing my lung. That was unfortunate. Without my oath, using healing powers stretched my magic to its absolute limit. I pulled my shield from the ground and drew out my sword, turning back to the battle he’d abandoned me to.

It was easy to lose myself when I fought. No need to hold back. No need to control my actions, tread carefully, or speak politely. Just melding my being into Mirilith’s fury, trying to tread that line of using it but not letting it use me.ThatI understood, much better than my complicated reaction to a beautiful stranger stabbing me.

I charged again, smashing my shield into one of the drisand’s bark-like faces before trying to bolster my sword. Right. No oath magic. The sword stabbed between the wooden cage of its abdomen, getting stuck.

Fuck. I infused it with the magic I did have—fire—and it flowed red hot. The drisand crumbled to cinders, the ghostly light in its eye sockets flickering out.

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