Page 146 of Of Spindles and Nightfall
“Please,” Neri gasped.
“It’s too late for that.” Aryana leaned forward, sinking her teeth into the human’s skin and drawing blood into her mouth. Neri collapsed against her and Aryana stepped back, letting her fall onto the bed.
“Mils, Ernon.”
They appeared, coming closer with wide eyes. “You did it,” Mils said.
“Chain or tie them all up,” Aryana said.
“My Queen,” Ernon murmured.
Both Mils and Ernon fell to their knees.
That was odd. The metal rod in Aryana’s hands warmed. She looked down and her heart did a little leap of surprise.
The scepter wasglowing.
Her fingers tightened around it, feeling the power flow through her. It was harsh and volatile, but also strong and beautiful.
She needed to get to Zarathos, but according to Neri, the guards down there probably had been replaced with shapeshifters. “Is there any other way into the arena than through the dungeons?”
Mils and Ernon exchanged a glance. “There is always the royal entrance.”
Chapter 49
Zarathos
The forest in the arena blazed.
The heat from Xaphoron’s fiery blasts was indescribably hot, and the trees burned like kindling. Zarathos shifted between fewer and fewer safe shadows. If he moved into the wrong one and came out, the inferno would consume him before he could move on. His bicep throbbed with distracting iciness, and though every vein in his body pulsed with the instinct to protect his Bloodbound, he forced himself to stay focused on the fight.
He clutched his sword in his hand, his muscles aching from the exertion of his still mending frame. With his enhanced powers, he’d been able to hold his own, but that was a far cry from defeating adragon. They’d clashed several times, and Zarathos’s shadows had kept him from dying, but the damn beast had no vulnerable spots.
As if he knew what Zarathos was thinking, Xaphoron’s words blared across the arena. “Where did you go, Rumpelstiltskin? Hiding in the shadows like the coward you are. Come out and face me.”
The serpentine neck stretched over the arena like a king over its domain, one eye shut and bloodied.
Zarathos shifted through the shadows, searching for the right spot. There had to be some place he could strike. He’d attempted to go for the beast’s eyes, and his sword had merely scratched the surface. Now the lack of shadows made another attack from that angle impossible.
“No?”The dragon’s steps came closer, crushing burning trees under its feet as if it were nothing, sending up clouds of fire and smoke.“Fine then, my retribution on all the demon kingdoms will start here. With those that revel in the pain and destruction of others.”
Zarathos froze, spinning in the shadows, and looked up in horror.
Xaphoron was climbing out of the pit and into the stands. Demons were screaming and racing. The dragon’s enormous claws came down and smashed several spectators who were attempting to flee. Fire heated in the beast’s massive jaws.
Zarathos grabbed the shadows and appeared next to an unburned tree. He ran out into the open. “Xaphoron!” he shouted. “Xaphoron, stop!”
The fire in the dragon's throat died, and his head swiveled to Zarathos.
Xaphoron was right. No more tricks or bargains. They were at a stalemate, and yet Zarathos couldn’t walk away from the trials or he’d die. There was only one thing remaining to be done. One sacrifice left to make.
For his people.
“If I give myself over to you, then you will let the demons in this castle depart in peace.”
“Clever, but no. I have business with other demons in this castle. But I will allow the spectators in this audience who have no role in palace or kingdom business depart this arena without being maimed, if you turn yourself over to me.”
Zarathos’s hands balled into fists. Damn. Xaphoron knew how to play.
