Page 83 of Vasmora

Zevander stepped forward, angling her further over the edge. Her grip of his arm weakened as the venom undoubtedly spread to her hand. Her foot slid over the edge, and she slipped from his grasp, but caught herself, clinging to the pit’s jagged lip by her one working arm, the other hanging limp at her side.

“Kill them. Kill them both!” she cried out, and Zevander turned to see the guard still keeping his distance, eyes fixed on the scorpion that loomed over him.

Behind him, the Orgoth who’d been so eager to attack stood alongside a man wearing a purple monocle, the bloodbinder she’d summoned, a familiar face that stirred a vague flicker of memory. Thoughts Zevander shut out of his mind when he saw the Orgoth’s massive hand grip the smaller man’s shoulder, as if to hold him back.

He surveyed the doorways, where a few of the slaves and servants stood gathered. One of them signaled to the servant closest to her, and they twisted around, closing the doors and locking them.

“You can … still walk out of here … alive. Both of you.” Loyce’s pathetic threat dragged his gaze back to her. Her arm trembled, hand sliding over the marble, as she struggled to keep her hold.

Zevander knelt and grasped her wrist, steadying her. “We walk out of here alive, regardless.”

“Please. We are … true mates in every … sense.” Her severed lips distorted the words, and she turned just enough for a glimpse of that empty socket, where small cuts marked the reckless jabbing of his dagger. The urge to reach for his smaller knife and carve out the other one had him squeezing the hilt of his sword.

No.

He wouldn’t spare her the horror of what was coming. He wanted her to see.

“You are nothing to me.” Zevander brought his blade down, severing her hand from her wrist, and she let out a scream as she fell backward, her bloody stump reaching out for him seconds before she struck the floor of the pit on a cloud of dust.

He lifted her severed hand, studying it a moment. The sound of hissing echoed through the caves, and below him, Loyce clambered to her feet, swaying back a step, before stumbling toward the fallen sword.

Maevyth drifted to his side, peering down at the general, her usual empathy no longer apparent in the cold expression she wore.

“We can go,” Zevander said. “You don’t have to watch this.”

“No. I need to watch. To hear her screams.” Despite the tremble of her lips, her voice remained absent of emotion. “I want to know the precise moment she realizes what she subjected those women to. The horror and hopelessness.”

“Let me up!” she screamed, tucking her severed arm against her chest. “Get me out of this pit, or I will have every one of you slaughtered!”

Another glance around the room showed the Orgoth and the bloodbinder standing at the edge across from them. Neither made a move to help her. As if they too needed to see. To hear for themselves.

Behind them, two gildona slaves approached, servants following after and crowding the other side of the pit.

Another scream, and the hissing grew louder.

Two charnelyths emerged from the caves, their scales grinding against the dirt.

With a loose grip of her sword, she twisted sharply, swinging the weapon with the elegance of a wet towel. One charnelyth backed off, while the other circled around her. “Stay … away from me!” Sword leading, she twisted for the one behind her. “I’m the one who feeds you!”

The first charnelyth lashed out its tongue, catching her ankle, and yanked her legs out from under her.

“No! No!” By some miracle of strength, she managed to bring the sword down on its tongue, severing a gash in its flesh.

The dragon roared and reared up, blood spilling from its mouth.

“That’s it, you ungrateful cunts! Back off!” She raised her sword for the second charnelyth.

A fatal mistake.

The first struck with its fangs, sinking them into her thigh, too high for a jab of her sword. She slammed the pommel against its head, and the charnelyth shook her in its mouth, freeing the sword from her hand.

A collective gasp echoed through the rotunda, horror rippling across the small crowd of onlookers.

“Release me!” she cried out, her voice heavy with terror as she clawed at its mouth. “Release me now!”

Instead, the serpent slinked backward toward the cave, taking its prey with it.

From its mouth, she reached out. “Help me! Please!”