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“Don’t listen to her,” Juron says, his shoulders rigid. “My life isn’t worth it.”
“Juron!” Caya cries, desperation thick in her voice.
I clench my jaw and turn to Taria, hoping she might reveal some guidance as to what choice should be made, but the priestess’s golden eyes are devoid of emotion as they flicker back and forth between Caya and Juron.
“Damn this,” Natharius curses, pushing past the hordes of undead blocking our way to the doors at the end of the hall.
Mulgath’s teeth glint. His skeletal hand twitches, preparing to slice through Juron’s neck. “So be it.”
“Natharius, stop!” The words spill from my lips before I can realize. My heart is in my throat. Am I making the right decision?
The Void Prince has no choice but to obey my command. Against his will, he’s forced to halt and turn back around.
I ignore his glare, my attention returning to Mulgath. For now, the necromancer has stilled his hand. “Let’s say I agree to your demands and order the Void Prince to enter your summoning circle,” I begin. “What’s there to stop you from slitting Juron’s throat the moment Natharius enters the circle?”
Mulgath flashes me a menacing grin. “Nothing.”
“Then I don’t see why I should agree to your bargain. Regardless of the choice I make, it seems our friend will die either way.”
“If you refuse,” Mulgath replies, “his death is certain, and we’ll see how many of my undead it takes to defeat you all.”
“If you are so confident in your ability to defeat us, why haven’t you struck us yet? Why are you delaying by bargaining with us?”
Mulgath glowers. His glare is as venomous as the one Natharius offers me.
“That’s what I thought,” I continue. “You fear you and your undead can’t defeat the Void Prince unless he’s secured inside your binding circle. If you kill Juron before Natharius is restrained, you’ll lose your bargaining chip.”
I know I’m playing with fire. I can tell that much from the shadowy orbs burning inside Mulgath’s otherwise empty sockets.
Though my game is deadly, I have no choice but to play it.
“So, I’ll accept your offer for our companion in exchange for the Void Prince. However, you will remove the dagger from Juron’s neck before I order Natharius to stand inside your binding circle.”
Mulgath pauses, watching me with his deathly gaze. After a moment’s hesitation, he lifts the dagger from Juron’s neck. If only by a few inches.
Still, the small amount of air between the blade and Juron’s throat will mean a few more seconds for him. A greater chance at survival.
My eyes flicker across to Taria. The priestess gives a small nod. Though the movement is slight, it’s filled with determination and tells me she’s ready for what’s to come.
“The Void Prince,” Mulgath snarls. His skeletal hand gestures toward the demon.
I turn to Natharius, my lips drawing into a firm line. His scowl hasn’t lessened in ferocity. Will he forgive me for this choice? Doubtful. But why do I care whether I can earn a demon’s forgiveness?
“Natharius,” I grind out, “you will stand inside the binding circle. Now.” I point to the shadowy markings etched onto the floor, my sleeve flicking out with the movement.
“You will regret this,” Natharius seethes.
I dearly hope I won’t. I can only pray the hasty plan forming in my head will somehow succeed.
I don’t allow any doubt to betray my expression and simply nod over to the binding circle.
Natharius has no choice but to obey the command. With one heavy stride after another, he drags himself over to the binding circle, offering as much resistance as he can. Though his efforts slow his movement, they don’t prevent him from reaching his destination.
Mulgath’s gaze fixes on Natharius, as does everyone else’s—both the living and the undead. All await the moment that Natharius enters the binding circle.
As his leather boots step over the markings, I draw on all the aether I can. Obsidian chains surge up from the binding circle and shackle Natharius to the floor.
The Void Prince’s furious growl rumbles through the hall. I’m certain the walls tremble around us.
