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1
VEYKA
I should have died in the womb.
The wisdom of the Ancestors holds that the more powerful twin eats the other before birth, incorporating their power and growing stronger.
Our kind are vicious even before the first breath.
In the last millennia, only a handful of twins have been born to the elementals. My brother and I were among them.
The same brother stood over me now, Excalibur gleaming in his meaty fist, ready to strike the killing blow. He lifted one pale golden brow in perfect parallel with his smirk. His swirling storm-blue eyes—my eyes—sneered down at me. Superiority and satisfaction were twin beads of sweat running down from his temple.
“This is the end, Veyka,” he crooned, shifting his weight subtly. I knew the stance, had seen him assume it dozens of times over the years. He was about to perform an execution.
“So soon? I thought you liked to play with your victims?” I ground out, hands aching for the blades that weren’t there. He’d knocked one of my knives away, far enough it disappeared into a cloud of red dust somewhere in the courtyard. Out of reach.
But the other…
I knew my best chance was to get him talking. My prideful brother loved the sound of his own voice. How often had I heard him boast with his friends, rolling syllables around in his dark timbre, plotting which male or female he would pursue next?
“There is no sport in it when the opponent is so overmatched,” he growled.
“And yet, that did not stop you from challenging me to begin with.” The other knife was under my left hip, pinned. If I moved an inch for it, he’d gut me.
“A worthless opponent is an opponent, nonetheless.”
The plan formed in my mind, each step as graceful and choreographed as a dance. “Only someone deeply insecure in their crown would think so.”
His hand loosened on the golden hilt. Slightly. Almost imperceptibly.
But that is the thing about twins. We can perceive the imperceptible about one another. And I was faster than my brother.
I tightened the muscles in my abdomen and swung my legs outward, connecting hard with the sensitive insides of his knees. It wasn’t enough to knock him down, but the half second it took him to readjust his grip on that Ancestors-damned sword was all the time I needed. My feet were under me. I palmed the knife that seconds before had been trapped under my body.
“Crafty bitch,” he muttered, loud enough only for my delicately pointed ears.
“I am flattered,” I said, darting a step forward and then back again, out of range. Reminding him just how fast I was—and how dangerous, now that I had a knife back in my hand. “Bow for me, dear brother, and I will let you walk away with your pride intact.”
Murder shone in those sapphire eyes, turned dark with ire. I wondered if mine were the same just then, or if they’d taken on a gleam of their own. Our eyes were the only likeness between us, despite the accident of our birth.
But this was not the moment to ask.
He swung the monumental sword, a display of power and frustration. I was too far away to be in danger, but close enough to hear him growl, “The King of the Elemental Fae bows to no one.”
I grinned. “As you like.”
Then I struck.
Five breaths later, his back hit the ground.
“If I had half a mind for it, I’d have that pretty sword of yours as well,” I said sweetly, flashing my knife to catch the sun beating overhead and reflecting it directly into his face. At least that infernal smirk of his was finally gone.
“Come and take it,” he spat, blood mixing with spittle in the red dirt.
I shrugged, sheathing the knife at my side. “I’d rather not. I prefer my life of luxury.”
“Vain creature.”
