Page 38 of Daughter of the Dark

Seemingly entertained for now, the king smiled and gestured at Hakun. The pillar of severity finally moved and came for Solana. This time, she didn’t hesitate to palm her dagger, but the man simply held out his hand and waited.

“Go on,” the king said. “He’ll give you his sword to use instead.”

Hakun’s hand covered hers over the dagger and squeezed. Her palm stung, but it took effort to relinquish her hold. The man’s brown eyes bored into hers as he pulled the dagger out of its sheath and, with his other hand, extended a larger blade. Solana had no experience with swords. They were cumbersome to use in the narrow streets of the callejon.

And it was heavier. Solana sighed and shifted the short sword. Hakun returned to his place, and King Killian clapped his hands once, the sound echoing against the rounded walls. “Let us begin,” he cheered.

On cue, the muki, as if coming out of a deep sleep, shook its head and straightened to its full height. It stumbled forward, and then it opened its mouth and screeched. She didn’t cover her ears, the sound like a morning bell in her mind, awakening the parts of her that came alive with every hunt.

Without hesitation, Solana ran for the mat and leapt. The muki had folded over to drop onto all fours, and its neck was exposed. Her instincts screamed at her to kill first and ask for forgiveness later. The blade sang as it barreled down in a perfectly executed arc, thwacking true in the base of the muki’s neck. Solana had executed many a muki that way, but instead of dropping like she was used to, it flung her across the mat and into the wall as it roared and flailed.

Solana frantically glanced at the blade in her hand, marred black with muki blood, and back to the creature rushing toward her. “Shit.” She threw herself to the side and rolled out of the way of its talons just in time. They ripped through the mat where her body would have been, and the muki tipped forward from the absence of her. Solana was already running to take advantage of the opportunity, grabbing the stationary limb and using it to propel herself up and over and onto its back. Her legs squeezed around its torso to stay in place, and she raised the blade above her head.

This time, when she brought it down, she did so in a perfectly straight line with two hands wrapped around the hilt. The muki jerked to the side and Solana slipped, the blade sinking deep into its shoulder. Its unburdened arm swung wildly and caught a chunk of skin at her hairline. It gave way with a burst of searing pain, blood pouring into her eyes, until finally, she lost her grip on the sword and was thrown off its back.

The mat was plush, but landing knocked the breath from her all the same. The ceiling spun distractingly. Solana turned to orient herself, to brace her head and calm her heart, when a hand gripped her leg, claws sinking into her calf and tugging. She gritted her teeth against the burn and scrambled for purchase on the smooth mat. Her only weapon was buried in the muki’s shoulder.

There wasn’t ever a time when she had tried to kill a muki without her dagger. Of course it wouldn’t die so easily. Whatever it was made of, whoever’s gift occupied the himaya, it gave her an advantage she had taken for granted thus far. Overwhelming anger flooded Solana at the thought of being given this fight without the proper tools. The king had told her she would have everything she needed at her disposal, and what she needed was her dagger. Its warmth searing her hand, its presence stroking her mind. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine it in her hand, could almost feel its engraved hilt scratching her palm. If she just—

A hand clamped around her throat and effortlessly lifted her off the mat, her feet dangling in the air. Solana came face-to-face with the undead creature, looked deep into its eyes, and saw every fear reflected. It was trapped in unending agony, desperate to be free forevermore. With every breath of hers it stole, it screamed to be seen and heard.

Matching its fury and desperation, Solana stretched out a hand and scrambled for the sword embedded in its shoulder. The blade sliced at her fingers and palm until she finally got enough of a grip to tear it free. Then she dragged the useless blade across the muki’s throat. Brackish blood poured onto her hand as she brought the blade back and did it again and again, until the head was hanging on by a sliver of a tendon and Solana’s vision was barely there. It dropped her at the same time its head toppled to the side, and both of their bodies thudded to the ground.

Air begrudgingly squeezed through Solana’s swollen throat. The muki’s head had rolled to a stop an arm’s length away, and the cold of shadows swarmed over them both as its body dissipated back to Uku Pacha.

There was no grief or sorrow or relief that came with this type of kill. No despair or gratitude or understanding so deep it drowned her. The muki was dead but not gone, simply returned to the underworld until it respawned in a newly made body.

From somewhere far-off, she heard clapping, and then the king said, “Again.”

On her back, Solana saw the doors to the training room open for a second time and a muki bound into the room. She groaned and rolled out of the way just in time to miss the swipe of the smaller creature, this one with longer arms and a neck that twisted all the way around so that it could see her wherever she went. She stayed on the ground, twisting and rolling and dodging as best as possible, but she was injured and oxygen-deprived and overall tired.

Without her dagger or Sami at her side, she was at a severe disadvantage.

“Use your gift, Solana,” King Killian ordered. “That’s the only way you survive this.”

Her gift. The one she hadn’t known she had. The one that Reyes had tricked her into using once already.

It hit her like a punch to the gut; this wasn’t punishment. It was another test. It had never been about her ability to hunt and dispatch, or her inability to follow orders. He wanted her to lose control so that she had no other choice than to command. He was forcing her to harness that gift to save her own life.

Like a fool, Solana had believed she was there because of her prowess in the hunt. Because she was being recognized for the work she had done for the last fourteen years. King Killian was just another person who wanted something from her, which was just as well, because she would get what she wanted, too.

Right then, she wanted her dagger. She wanted to end this. How dare the king use her struggle and suffering as entertainment. That dagger was hers. It had belonged to her father before her, and her mother had given it to her to carry with pride. Nobody could take it from her, and neither would she allow a man to use it to weaken her.

Like stones falling into place, Solana closed her eyes and reached into the places within her that felt tethered. She felt the demon and its movements and dodged them as easily as breathing. She felt the heat of her dagger and its burning desire to be held. She heard the whispering dark and invited it closer.

Blazing metal slammed into her hand. A cool mist rushed over her skin and enveloped her whole. Solana opened her eyes, and she was face-to-face with the muki, peering into the depths of its soulless eyes and seeing only herself reflected. Then she slammed her dagger into its neck.

With all her might, she pushed and pushed until her hands were covered in brown blood, until she was knuckles-deep in its throat, until the dagger severed tendon and muscle and bone and the muki dropped like a rock to the ground and took her with it.

This time, Solana knew it was dead by the wave of anguish that pulled her under, that stole her breath and made her eyes water.

It was full of rage, this creature, overflowing with suppressed hatred and resentment and a burning thirst for vengeance. It flowed through Solana like a flood, filling up all the spaces she had left empty to save herself.

Loneliness burned away to ire.

Grief disintegrated into indignation.

Anger stoked into wrath.