Page 127 of Only Cold Depths
Onceagain,timesloweddown, and I spotted one tiny detail after another. Esmina’s hair streaming out behind her like a rippling red river. Her lips drawing back into a feral smile. And most of all, the lunarium dagger in her hand, the golden glow of her psion power burning away all the blood speckled on the sharp blade . . .
Time snapped back to its normal flow. I snarled and stabbed out with my sword, aiming the blade at Esmina’s chest . . . and she smoothly stepped aside, spun past me, and lashed out with her dagger.
I didn’t even see her cut me, although a hot line of pain zipped across my upper left arm. I hissed, whirled around, and snapped my sword up into a defensive position. Blood welled up out of the slice and trickled down my arm.
Esmina grinned and crooked her finger in a clear challenge. I rushed forward.
Thrust. Parry. Spin. Dodge.
My sword clashed with Esmina’s dagger over and over, creating a quick, sharp chorus that echoed off the cavern walls. I fought as hard as I could, swinging my sword faster than I ever had before, but Esmina easily avoided my blows. Every time I attacked, she simply moved to the side and swiped her dagger across whatever part of me she could reach.
My right forearm. My right hip. My left thigh. My left calf.
Esmina moved up and down and glided back and forth as though her body was made of liquid instead of muscles and bones. I couldn’t even nick her with my sword, and she was slowly but surely killing me.
I tried yet again, driving my sword toward her leg in an attempt to at least hobble and slow her down, but once again, Esmina avoided the blow. This time, she stepped in close and sliced her dagger across my stomach.
A shriek of pain ripped out of my throat, and I lurched back and clapped my hand over the burning, stinging wound. Hot blood spurted out between my fingers and dripped down my skin. A chilling realization swept through my bones. If she’d wanted to, she could have gutted me—killed me—with that attack.
“You can’t beat me, Vesper,” Esmina crowed. “I can literally see every move you make before you make it.”
Frustration shot through me. She was right. Her precog magic gave her a huge advantage, and the other seer was waltzing around me the same way she had done with the mercenaries earlier. Esmina was just playing with me the way a Tropics tiger would play with a mouse it had spied in the rain forest.
I always hated being the mouse, and I had never felt more like a toy in my entire life.
Even when Callus Holloway had siphoned off my magic, I had been able to fight back, or at least try to block his power, but that wasn’t the case with Esmina. How did you defeat someone who always knew when and where and how you were going to attack?
“Come on, Vesper,” Esmina said. “Isn’t it time to admit I’ve been right all along?”
“Right about what?” I asked, keeping my sword up and tracking her movements as she circled around me, even as I tried to think of some way to kill her.
“That being part of a truebond isn’t some great and glorious destiny. That it’s nothing but a giantmistake. A pair of magical shackles that usually gets not one but two people killed.”
Her lips curled back in disgust. “It’s a shame a psion as powerful as Kyrion Caldaren is bound to someone who can’t even access the full potential of her own seer magic. What a laughable failure you are.” She shook her head. “And now Kyrion’s going to die because of you. What a bloody waste of his potential.”
My stomach clenched. I had been calling up all of Kyrion’s sparring lessons, using everything he had taught me about being a warrior, and it still wasn’t enough.
Esmina was right—Iwasa failure.
She must have sensed my thoughts, because another cruel smile curved her lips. “I was right about you all along, Vesper. You truly are nothing but a weak link, and I’ve already broken you.” She tilted her head to the side, the gold flecks in her eyes flaring with magic. “I wonder how long it will take for your precious Kyrion to die. Perhaps he’ll be so stricken with grief that his heart will just give out, and his death will happen quickly. Or perhaps he’ll try to hang on because that’s what you would want him to do.”
Her smile widened. “I hope it’s the latter. Perhaps I can collect on Holloway’s bounty after all. It will be easy to capture Kyrion in his grief-stricken state, and he’s worth more than you are anyway.”
Dread flooded my heart like an icy river. The bitch was going to wait until I was dead, then take Kyrion back to Corios. Holloway would do his best to keep Kyrion alive as long as possible, which would be a fate worse than death.
I couldn’t let that happen. I would notletthat happen. Not to Kyrion. But how could I stop it? The other seer was well on her way to killing me, just like she said.
Esmina raised her dagger. I tensed and lifted my sword, even though I already knew it wouldn’t do me any good against her vicious swipes.
Suddenly, Esmina stopped and blinked, and her magic flared even brighter in her eyes, as though she was seeing something else instead of me standing in front of her.
“Pollux,” she whispered. “He’s . . .dead.”
Esmina’s eyes widened, and she reached up and clutched her chest with her free hand. I eyed her warily, but I didn’t get the sense she was acting. She and Pollux might not have been bonded, but she was feeling . . .something.
But instead of going mad with grief, as Adria Byrne had when she had lost her brother Dargan, Esmina let out a small sigh. She shook her head and dropped her hand from her chest. Then her gaze cleared, and she was calm once again.
“Your friend is dead,” I said.
