Page 139 of Of Spindles and Nightfall
Could he be a shapeshifter? Aryana thought Zarathos’s father had killed them off. At least, that is what Zarathos believed.
“We have her,” he called into the woods.
A cloaked figure came out from behind the tree, her silhouette thin and lithe. Her human scent reached Aryana first. Then she lifted her hand and pulled off her hood.
Neri smiled at her. “Good evening, Aryana.”
Chapter 46
Zarathos
Zarathos wished that the damn healing potion would work faster. Then again, he’d been moments from death, so he shouldn’t complain. The forest raged with beasts, and somewhere out there, Xaphoron hunted for him.
Worse still, his Bloodbinding mark throbbed on and off, making him want to drop everything and run to Aryana, but he couldn’t. Leaving the arena would break his bargain and cost him his life. And if that happened, Aryana’s fate would be sealed, too.
Noctyssa stood nearby, keeping watch, occasionally leading a beast away from Zarathos’s hiding spot.Gods, despite his appreciation for the help, he hated relying on others. The feeling that he owed her.
After leading away a griffin, Noctyssa returned. “How are you doing, Your Majesty?”
Zarathos made an attempt to rise, and fire shot through his abdomen. He sat back. “I apologize for trapping you into doing this.”
Noctyssa shook her head. “I know for a fact that Xaphoron has plans to take over the three other kingdoms. And Tigon, all he wanted was violence.”
“And you? How would you have ruled?”
“I remember what it was like before you became king. Kingdom Spiritu attacked us at will and we spent so much time and energy defending our borders we had little opportunity to even gather food, let alone raise our children. My people are angry with kingdom Aeria and Spiritu for their conniving and attempts at incursions. But those I serve also don’t give a rat’s ass about any other kingdom. My advisors from my nation would have pushed me into making war with those kingdoms and leaving the others to rot. But you have stood apart and seen the big picture. Always held the violence at bay. Yes, you trapped us into bargains, but I think deep down you realize that if you lose this tournament, the realm will suffer for it.”
In a world of danger and death, perhaps Zarathos had overlooked those who actually wanted him to rule. But did that make him deserving? “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
“If you don’t know it, sire, I do,” she bowed. “And that is why I serve you. That is why I am willing to die for you.”
She turned just as a large manticore with massive claws and the body of a lion appeared between two trees.
“Look out!” Zarathos shouted, pain spearing through him as he fought to rise.
But Noctyssa froze, and the manticore lunged.
Horror filled him as it shredded Noctyssa limb from limb, blood flying everywhere. It turned its human-like face at him, a large mane ruffled around and accentuated its lion form and its tail came into a scorpion-styled point. Blood dripped from its chin and ran into its mane.
Zarathos summoned his wings, staggering as pain lanced through his side with every movement. Gods, if only he weren’t wounded—if only he could fight. Gritting his teeth, he lurched forward, sword in hand, as the beast crouched low.
Damn it.
There was no avenging Noctyssa like this. Not against a creature such as that, not in his condition. Spinning, he launched himself into the air. Agony tore through his abdomen and back, but he forced himself up, wings straining, as he crashed into the tree canopy. Branches scraped at him as he dropped into their cover, panting, gripping onto limbs to steady himself.
Could a manticore climb?
He tried to remember through the haze of pain.
The beast stalked forward, leaving the remains of Noctyssa behind, and sniffed the air. His heart ached with the helplessness of it all. Noctyssa had been loyal to the end, giving her life for him. An Incubus. A creature forbidden, one who was never meant to exist.
And yet, she hadn’t cared. She’d believed in him, believed he was destined to rule, and she had risked everything for that belief.
Below, the manticore’s unnervingly sentient eyes locked onto the tree where Zarathos hid. A slow, blood-slicked smile curled across its face.
Then it stood up. The hair pulling into its body, bones snapping, tail disintegrating into nothing. It turned into Xaphoron’s grinning face, the blood still dripping from his chin.
Zarathos gazed around in disbelief. This wasn’t possible. Was he hallucinating again? But no, the healing potion had cleared his head and the spinning fuzziness was gone.
