I grasp the bars of my unlocked cell.
‘Doing Fiana’s dark bidding again?’ I call.
He slows in surprise. ‘I don’t do anyone’s bidding,’ he says to me, his eyes narrowing.
He comes toward me and I step back, hiding the knife I hold behind my back.
‘You’re but her servant,’ I goad. ‘No different from Tully. You do whatever she wants. I’m surprised you aren’t dressed in little more than a loin cloth for her pleasure.’ I laugh at him. ‘The truth is, even if she had let you keep me to play your little games, you never could have used me properly. It takes a true mage to keep a Kismet., not one who deals in little more than parlor tricks’
His jaw tightens in anger. I’ve clearly touched a nerve.
‘You dare speak to me like that, slave?’ He snatches a ring of keys from a pouch at his belt and fumbles with them. ‘I’ll?—’
I laugh loudly. ‘You’ll what? You can do nothing to me. Fate will destroy you, and if it doesn’t, Fiana will!’
He jams the key in the lock then frowns as he turns it and realizes it was already open. ‘What?—’
Morgan lurches from the shadows and grabs Warrior, accidentally slamming him into the bars as his hands slip on the leather of Warrior’s tunic. It’s slick with the blood that covers him, I see now.
The clang of it echoes through the dungeon and I wince, my eyes flying to the main door as Warrior struggles. Morgan belatedly puts his hand over Warrior’s mouth so that he can’t call for help, and grunts as Warrior bites down on one of his fingers.
Morgan’s hands slip over Warrior’s clothes in the scuffle, unable to gain purchase to squeeze the life out of him.
All it takes is one small step forward.
I slide the knife through the bars, burying it into Warrior’s gut, and I twist my body to the side as Locke showed me, using the momentum to slice the blade across his belly in a move that Morgan taught me.
The surprise in his face as his eyes meet mine is more than a little satisfying as I pull the knife away.
He breathes out hard, ignoring the wound, and uses the bars of my cell to lever himself off them. Morgan’s foot catches on the uneven floor as he’s forced to step back, and falls, taking Warrior with him.
They tussle on the ground, and somehow, Warrior gets the upper hand. He has Morgan beneath him, and his hands circle Morgan’s great neck.
I open the door to my cell quietly.
‘There, you fuck!’ he snarls. ‘I’ll kill you as you did me!’
His laugh is maniacal. ‘But you’ll stay dead, Mountain!’
My hand takes the knife in a sure grip as Morgan tries unsuccessfully to pry the smaller fae’s thin fingers away. I turn the blade upward and stay at Warrior’s back, waiting for the opportune moment, and hoping it comes quickly because Morgan’s face is turning purple.
When Warrior leans down to spit in Morgan’s face, I strike.
I jump on him, grabbing him by the long hair at the crown of his head. I rip his head back and I slide the knife across his throat, with a quiet sound of fury, from ear to ear as deeply as I can.
Warrior gurgles, his hands unwinding from Morgan’s throat, and grasping at his own.
I let go and step away as Morgan gasps a breath and throws Warrior off. He gets to his feet and stamps on the fae’s chest with a crunch, crushing it.
He turns to me, and puts his forehead to mine. ‘Thank you, my fierce little human,’ he says, his voice hoarse.
He glances down and grins at the carnage, and I see a remnant of who he used to be; Mount Morgan, the killer of the black fights who reveled in death.
‘You slit his throat deep,’ he rumbles in approval. ‘Just as I taught you. Well done.’
I bask in Morgan’s praise as we stare down as Warrior. He gurgles a little. His eyes are open and somehow still triumphant even as his blood spills across the rotten reeds covering the floor. His guts are protruding from the hole I made in his stomach, but as we watch, they begin to move back into Warrior’s body and the wound starts to knit itself back together.
‘It’s not enough.’ I look up at Morgan. ‘He’s going to come back. He’s already healing.’
