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ChapterNineteen
Vori couldn’t believe this was happening.She’d promised herself nothing would make her claim the crown, to chance becoming her father.But she couldn’t let Jura die.In the packed throne room, guards pushed goblins aside to make room for the challenge.
These past thirteen years, she’d struggled to forget the violence her father taught her.She couldn’t lose control, or she’d never come back from it.Not an option.She’d have to winandovercome the berserker legacy.“No appointed champions.”She put as much authority as she could into the words.“Just you and me.”
Mykata had more muscles in her right arm than Vori had in her entire body.No way she could come through that with her sanity intact.
“Fine.”Artanya shoved her freakishly tall crown at her sister with a scowl that hinted she hadn’t been planning to do her own oh-so-dirty work.
Thanks to Perry for saving her from that.But for all she knew, the pretender queen had spent the last years training in some royal goblin “fight club.”Probably winning cage matches.Maybe that’s where she got all the gaudy glitz for her crowns.Ugh, Vori had to stop overthinking.That was her consort’s MO.
She would do this for Jura, for Perry, for her mother’s memory.
Then, she could figure out how to undo the whole queen thing if she wasn’t lost to the berserker need to destroy.She stood her ground, the way her cousin Alys had taught her.She didn’t have the demon hybrid’s pain-bringer magic, but she’d paid attention.
Perry pulled Jura to her feet, shielding the maid from the guards, who stared at the challengers as if weighing the threat levels.One small fae didn’t compare to two royals squaring off in a to-the-death challenge.
Artanya balled her hands into fists.“Over a decade away, and you come back here wanting the throne.The centuries of the golden-born rule are over.It’s time for silver to rise.We will regain the glory of Kradnovtl.”
Her guards repeated the last part in a creepy chant.The woman was taking royal blood to a new level of fanaticism.No way would Vori play into that cult fever.“By executing an innocent woman you’ve already condemned to a slow death?A fantastic way to rule if fear is what you’re after.”
“Like your father?I’ll end his line of terror with you.”
“I’ll never be like my father.”She bit off each word.If she said it enough times, she might believe it.
“I’ll make sure you never have the chance.”Artanya moved quickly, but Vori was faster.Her speed had been a game as a little goblin.A way to escape her father as she got older.Now, it might save her.
She rushed the pretender queen as fast as she could, slashing with her claws.Artanya’s skin on her arm above where she wore the amethyst-studded cuff peeled away, gushing red blood down the shiny jewelry and her green hand.Only a tiny glimmer of silver threaded through all that red.
Vori jumped back, surprised.“Not so royal, after all.A sixteenth?Less?Or did the silver simply not take in your veins?”
The pretender queen slung her arm, flinging scarlet droplets.“Stand still and fight.”
“Make me.”Not Vori’s smartest taunt, but her pulse was thrumming in her ears and her adrenaline had spiked.If she could wear Artanya down, she might have a chance with strategy instead of savagery.She sliced again.Once.Twice.Her hands were slippery with the pretender queen’s not-very-royal blood.
On the third try, Artanya rushed her, forcing her to choose between trampling the crowd and fighting.They both went to the ground with punches and kicks and claws.
Vori winced.The stone scraped her cheek, rubbed her elbows and knees raw.Flecks of gold smeared across the gray.
“Let’s see that golden blood run.”Artanya’s nails felt like ice picks stabbing into her skin.
“Jealous?”Vori twisted, knocking the other goblin off and stumbling to her feet.Thieving was so much easier than this.While she faced the slightest chance she might get caught, at least she never risking losing herself in a heist.Her raw arms burned, and she wanted to pour a gallon of disinfectant on the claw marks.She wiped the back of her hand against her split lip.
The stupid evening gown she’d been forced to wear to the feast last night was still too tight.She yanked at the buttons Perry hadn’t undone, not stopping until a few gave with rips and pops.What the hell had they stitched this with?Steel?Another tear and maybe she could breathe again.
“Prince Consort,” Artanya taunted.“Remember, your princess said you would never belong here.It’s true.She only wants you to secure her throne.Why else would she have the blood crown’s amethysts?Too bad you’re such a poor imitation of the original queen’s mate.Once the crown princess has what she wants, she’ll toss you back to the humans.Abandon you just as she did us.”
Vori’s heart fell as Perry’s expression hardened, hurt flashing in his eyes.“No.”Anger tore through her.She would rip this bitch in half.Her world went violent beyond-all-control red.Nothing mattered but stopping Artanya from spreading her lies, ruining any relationship she had with Perry before it started, destroying what little goodness was left of Kradnovtl, of her.
Rage controlled her, overrunning her thoughts.She rammed into Artanya, taking them both to the floor.Only one of them would live through this fight.One would get back up.One would take the crown, and it would be her.
The pretender queen sank her teeth into Vori’s shoulder.Pain splintered through her in streaking arcs much like Perry’s powers.She slammed her elbow into Artanya’s nose, went for her eyes, tore at the ridges around those scars.The smack of bone against rock and gurgling breaths coming faster and faster crowded out the world around her, and memories screamed at her.
Kill the beast.Baba Yaga’s final blood vow.Was this what she’d meant?Or had Vori become the beast?She couldn’t tell.The lines were so blurred.
Kill them all.Her father’s voice haunted her, pushing her to not care about anything except annihilation, decimation.
Artanya’s bitter laugh cut through the fury, a rasping noise that stopped on the next slap of her head against the floor.“You’re…” She coughed.“Just like your father.”
