Page 81 of Tales of a Deadly Devotion
‘We’ve been allies to the mortals for centuries. We’re striving for a true republic. No blood oaths,’ the Lady continued, giving me mercy from her attention. ‘Superiority and ancient blood have led us to our ruin too many times.’
‘That’s a fairy tale.’ Gideon’s face was stern as he continued to watch the ring below. Flinching slightly as his jaw tensed, almost making me turn to see what had happened.
Then Sigrid stood taller, a softness coming to her features as she met Gideon’s stare. ‘Emmaline believed in it.’
A light went out in Gideon’s eyes. His face nothing but a cold mask. Hiding every emotion beneath it.Emmaline.Their sister knew these people. Despite the fact she was fighting for the other side.
‘Look where it got her,’ he replied. Voice so empty and cold it didn’t sound like his own.
Bound to the Countess as Emrys had said. Bound until she was dead.
A sadness seemed to ripple across the Lady’s features. Softening her for the barest moment. ‘She’d hate to see it torment you so.’
‘Then she should have been less fucking reckless,’ Gideon snapped but it was tinged with pain. A younger brother who missed his sister.
‘Reckless is believing you can avoid the Countess’s attention forever, Gideon.’ Lady Ramsey’s voice was calm. ‘The bitch doesn’t like to be left in the dark.’
‘Strange. Considering that’s where she chooses to linger.’ His words were as sharp as any blade, those eyes alight again with a different type of fury.
‘I knew I missed you.’ Lady Ramsey grinned. Then the cheering grew below. I gave into the temptation and looked over the balcony as another roar filled the room.
Emrys’s shoulders rolled, the muscles moving as the sheen of sweat on his skin caught the afternoon sunlight that came in through the old theatre’s high windows. A thin trail of blood down the scarred side of his face from a cut above his eyebrow.
How gracefully he moved, how the muscles of his back shifted and how each sharp movement pressed the fabric of his trousers tighter against his legs.
The hay was disturbed, the miroc panting wildly, doubled over before it lurched again. Deadly precision in its strikes, but Emrys met each one. Movements sharp and the responding blows biting, the thud of flesh meeting as the miroc was forced to give up space between them.
A vicious bloody dance. Then Emrys faltered, turning wrong. He left his side unguarded. The bull saw it, my lips parted to shout the warning but then Emrys moved faster than I thought possible. The miroc charging into his trap.
Three efficient bloody blows, two to the ribs and the final to the jaw and the bull was down.
The crowd reached a crescendo of cheering. Emrys didn’t waste a moment, barely out of breath as he caught a rag someone threw into the ring. Wiping it over his face as one of the men raised his arm in victory. Yet those dark eyes fixed on the balcony.
Fixed on me. A slight boyish smile on his lips as if sensing my concern. So I scowled my answer, beyond unimpressed. However, that only seemed to heighten his amusement.
None of this wasremotelyamusing.
‘Montagor will also be looking for the sword.’ Sigrid’s words cut through Emrys’s haze, turning me once more.
‘What sword?’ I asked, noticing Gideon’s lack of reaction as he met Sigrid’s eye.
‘The blade of the Old Gods,’ Lady Ramsey answered.
That darkness crafts blades with demon fire. They gleam and shatter seals. How cold they burn and decimate the fragility of fey magic. Too powerful to exist, even to their own kind.That story. From the hymn of the Old Gods. Such weapons couldn’t be real.
Only I couldn’t deny the relics existed – so why wouldn’t those weapons? My enchanted bag at the belt of my skirt felt suddenly too heavy, holding another object that shouldn’t exist. My father’s blade.
‘He’ll be looking a long time,’ Gideon offered darkly. The air in the room suddenly too close with an unspoken threat. ‘Maybe he should start with the children’s fairy-tale tomes. That’s the only place such a blade exists.’
‘Of course.’ Lady Ramsey’s smile was soft as she flicked that coin and it tumbled through the air for Gideon to catch in his gloved fist. ‘Your reward.’
It all felt too easy and I should have known better as the flutter of that wishing stone began beneath my dress. The chamber door burst open. The small messenger boy from before stood there, panting with wide eyes.
‘She’s coming,’ he stuttered.
There was barely a moment. Gideon moved closer, almost forcing me back against the rail. A strange energy filling theair, how still he went before me. How all mirth and teasing guttered from Lady Ramsey.
Two men entered the box, nondescript and wearing fighting leathers, both with summoning runes on the back of their hands like Thean’s. Yet it was the next one that stilled me in place, as my gaze met a pair of lavender eyes.
