Page 32 of The Midnight Death Match

The words feel like a sword to my heart. “In other words, you plan to die.”

“I hope it doesn’t come down to that, my fierce young warrior.”

Tears mist my eyes, but I square my shoulders. “It won’t. We’re going to fight together and break the curse. Even Lys brought that up.”

My father’s eyes narrow. “Don’t take his words to heart. Something about him troubles me, but I can’t place my finger on it.”

“He believes in our curse’s loophole. That’s all I need to know.”

“Just promise me you’ll be wary of him should we cross paths again.”

I sigh dramatically, promising nothing.

Einar tilts his head, several of his dreadlocks falling in front of his face. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Fine.” I squeeze my fists together. “I’ll be careful around him.”

Though I doubt I’ll be nearly as careful as Einar hopes.

Chapter

Thirteen

Sapphire nuzzlesme with her giant nose as I give her one last pat before we head into the crumbling city. I’m growing increasingly attached to these larger than life beasts, and I feel bad leaving them out here on their own despite knowing they can handle themselves.

“They’ll be fine.” Einar gives me a reassuring smile. “It’s us you should be worried about.”

Harek puts an arm around me. He seems to be doing more of that now. “How bad do you think it’ll be in there?”

“Hard to say for certain, but it won’t be anything like Mirendel.” My father adjusts his metal vest then checks ours. He insisted we all have them—not that they’ll do any good against dark magic, but we’ll be glad to have them should anyone shoot arrows at us.

Once we’re all set, we head toward Courtsview’s walls. I give another glance toward the dragons, who both stand alert, watching us.

The path winds deeper into the ruins, where ash clings to everything like forgotten breath. Walls lean inward. Looming arches bow beneath creeping shadows.

When we reach the nearest part of the wall, Einar stops.

There isn’t any gate or door, so I’m not sure what his plan is. Does he expect us to crawl over it? Dig underneath?

He murmurs a word in old fae.

A sigil glows under his palm. The wall ripples like water.

Then it opens.

My breath hitches. And I thought Skoro’s hidden doors were impressive.

Harek’s fingers lace through mine. I squeeze his hand, and he gives me a wary smile. I suddenly realize how glad I am he’s here.

A narrow hall yawns before us, its edges carved with runes worn by time and fire. When we step through, the air changes. It’s heavier, feels alive. Rife with the kind of magic that remembers everything it’s seen. At the end of the corridor, the hall widens into what must’ve once been a reading chamber. Now it’s something else entirely.

Scrolls and fractured relics line every available surface. Crystalline lamps hang from iron chains, casting amber light over ancient parchment. There are at least a dozen people here—mostly fae, some clearly halflings—all sharp-eyed and weary.

Every one of them looks up the moment we enter. A murmur spreads.

As my father steps fully into the light, a ripple of recognition passes through the group.

A woman scholar with silver tattoos coiling down her neck rises slowly. “The hunter.”

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