“I have.”
“Any last words?” His sneer cut through the air. The distance offered some safety yet left me exposed, his glare sparking with malice.
“I only request that High God Nothar protect his people when I pass through the Veil.”
He barked a mocking laugh, lifting his chin with wild fervor. “Not so cocky now?” he taunted, then addressed the crowd. “Elspeth, my sister, Second Born of my father, King Vardis, ran away from her home,” he declared, voice carrying regal authority. “She fled fromyou, her own people, and hid! Why? No one knows.” His gaze shifted to me, daring me to refute. “She abandoned you, left you to the cold of winter’s grip. Yet, I stayed. I weathered your darkest years!”
Darkest only because he was the storm cloud.
“I was here for you when Winter’s Bite ravaged our populace. I was here when the south threatened war. I was here when the men from the east came to try to claim our oil mines—I was here for you when she was basking in the sun at Tilamuik’s ports.
“At the final minute of the last day, just as I was about to ascend to my rightful place, she shows up, demanding the Rites of the Gods. She ripped your king from your grasp, stringing you along with her royal privileges. People of Wynterborne, I offer you myself. I will rule for you, wield what is given to me,reclaim the throne, and make this kingdom a nation to be feared and respected once more!”
That sounded a lot like the speech of a warmonger.
“I will save Wynterborne from the delusions of a child.” He whipped toward me, hair slapping against his face, giving him the look of a madman. “May the gods have mercy on your soul.”
I lifted my chin, a silent snarl curling my lip. Drawing my dagger, a sudden calmness spread over me. Adastrus’ grin widened as he unsheathed his blade. I eyed its length, longer than my arm, yet small and deadly in his grip. He spun it with an air of confidence, his dead fingers not hindering his movements. He savored each step, pacing with deliberate strides, extending his victory. His feet moved without thought, crossing as he sidled around me.
With my lips pressed tight, I clutched my dagger, readying myself.
I accepted my death, and I’d face it head-on.
He jerked, feigning a step, and I braced myself, flinching. He snickered, raising a mocking eyebrow.
Rage flared within. His taunts, the pain he caused my friends, this predicament I was in now—all stemmed from him. Sainte was bound to death the same as me. All because of Adastrus.
Ignoring Sainte’s training, I lurched, throwing myself at him. He spun, but I grabbed his overcoat and yanked, pulling him off balance. With a grunt, he swung his sword, the hilt smashing into my face. I yelped, releasing my grip to create distance. My nose throbbed, trickling blood, and darkness edged my sight as I crouched, trying to locate him in the dim room.
My vision cleared, revealing Adastrus settled in a crouch a few paces away. He smirked as he stood, fingering the torn hole in his sleeve. I braced my left palm against the floor as he smiled and sheathed his weapon to remove his overcoat.
“Come, little sister. Playtime is over.”
He charged. I leapt to my feet, trying to dance aside. His sword moved too fast, and the blade caught me under my ribs. I hissed, pain blooming and splintering. Still, I raised my dagger and spun to the side, throwing myself inside his guard. I limped as I went, my leg buckling beneath my weight, but I snared his arm and swung at his chest.
He evaded the blow with ease, jerking from my grasp. The motion sent me stumbling.
This wasn’t a challenge, this was a mockery.
I panted, and clutched my stomach, frowning when my hand came away bright with blood. Each step brought an onslaught of agony, and though my breaths were shallow, the cut hadn’t sliced deep enough to do permanent damage.
I pulled myself straight as he charged me once again, swinging his sword in a lazy arc, daring me to block it. I barely managed to lift my dagger in time to catch his blade, but the force sent a painful tremor through my arms, and my knees buckled beneath me.
He was unfairly strong.
My teeth ground together as my leg gave out, the sting in my side too great. Adastrus struck like lightning, his boot smashing into my face, crushing my nose.
I cried out, falling hard on my back, and my dagger skittered across the floorboards. Blood gathered in my throat, and I coughed, sputtering as I rolled onto my side. Pain radiated from every part of me. My vision blurred with unbidden tears, my breathing labored. Each movement brought a new wave of agony. The room’s silence confirmed no one was coming to my rescue.
No one would save me.
His heavy boot pressed down on my chest, crushing the air from my lungs. I gasped, blood filling my throat, then gripped his ankle with desperate fingers. My nails dug into his flesh like talons. If I could’ve reached his leg, I would have bitten down in sheer desperation.
Adastrus leaned down, his face swimming in my blurry vision. His white teeth glinted in a smile as he whispered, “May your journey through the Veilbe a miserable one.”
He snapped up and my head slammed back against the wood. Panic froze me as he lifted his sword in a fluid movement, then swung it down–
“Adastrus of Wynterborne!”The clarion call rang out across the crowded room, joined by a stag’s bugle that echoed through the room.
