Page 93 of A Reign of Malice
Sloane pulls the young woman out of the way, dragging her further from the fight. I don’t remember her, but she clearly means something to my mate. I hope her death was quick and not painful.
Sloane meets my gaze, our eyes locking for half a heartbeat. There’s no goodbye in them. Only war.
I turn away and back to my brother, hopefully for the last time.
“You couldn’t just die in that basement,” Aeson snarls through gritted teeth, dagger still gripped tightly in his crimson-slicked hand. His voice is venom, each syllable laced with decades of resentment and twisted pride.
I draw both my blades from where they’re sheathed at my sides. They aren’t coated in poison. They don’t need to be. These were forged for war, and tonight, they’ll taste the blood of a tyrant.
“I didn’t die there,” I say, voice low and lethal. “And I’m not dying tonight.”
I lunge.
My right blade slices across his wrist, a perfect arc of motion honed by rage and instinct. Steel meets tendon with a sickening snap. Aeson howls as his dagger drops, clattering across the marble floor. I kick it away, the force driving my balance off, and for one critical heartbeat, my side is exposed.
He takes full advantage.
His fist slams into my ribs like a battering ram. Bonecrunches. The breath leaves my lungs in a guttural gasp. I stagger, pain flaring, but I don’t fall. Not now.
We lock eyes right before we explode on each other.
We fight like gods damned to earth, ancient and furious. Knuckles slam into jaws. Knees into ribs. Our bodies collide with a violence that shakes the room. We spin, fists flying, blood spraying the walls. I catch his shoulder with one blade, carving deep, but his knee connects with my sternum in response.
We crash into the dining table, plates shattered as the wood beneath us begins to splinter from our combined weight until it finally crumbles. A wave of broken glass gets sent across the stone floor and Sloane jerks back just in time to avoid the flying debris.
She takes a step toward us, fire in her eyes, like she means to finish this at my side. But I raise a bloodied hand to stop her. Not yet. Not this part.
I can’t imagine that Aeson was the epitome of a gentleman to her, but he trapped me. He stole my life.
Now, I’m going to steal his.
“You were never meant to rule!” he roars, spitting blood. His next punch slams into my gut like a hammer. I grunt, doubling slightly, my legs buckling from the pressure as he continues. “You’re weak and soft. You would’ve crumbled the second the crown touched your head.”
I lift my gaze and snarl, “Maybe. But I’d rather crumble with honor than stand tall with corruption in my soul.”
There’s so much blood on me that not all of it can be mine, but my skin isn’t burning as I would have expected after Sloane’s warning. I don’t know if that’s because of the god energy I sensed earlier or something else; either way, I don’t let the realization distract me for long.
I drive my blade into his side.
It sinks in halfway before he jerks back, black blood pouring down his torso like tar. He screams, and it fuels me, even as my arms tremble with exhaustion. I keep going.
“You’ve tarnished everything you’ve touched,” I growl, swinging my left fist hard into his jaw. “Since the moment you tasted power, you’ve destroyed everyone who trusted you, including Venaris.”
He bellows and surges forward, headbutting me with enough force to snap something in my nose. Warm blood gushes down my face, into my mouth.
Then he moves faster than I expect.
From his boot, he draws a second blade, sleek, short, and jagged. He switches it to his uninjured hand, and the dagger arcs through the air like lightning.
I try to step back, but I’m not quick enough.
The blade plunges deep into my thigh, burying itself to the hilt.
I cry out and collapse to one knee, the force of the hit cutting my breath short. My vision blurs and my muscles seize. Pain consumes every part of me, turning the world red.
Aeson stands over me, panting, bleeding, and grinning. “I didn’t destroy this kingdom.Imade this kingdom. IamVenaris.” He stares down at me and laughs. The sound is low and breathless but triumphant. “That’s more like it. Get down where you belong,brother.”
I breathe through the pain, my pulse hammering in my ears, the copper sting of blood everywhere. I close my hand around the dagger in my leg, but I can’t pull it free quickly enough to use against him.
