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Neeka almost turned away. What if she pretended she couldn’t find anything in this mess? Better yet, what if she destroyed it altogether, ending both the king’s and the Astra’s quests here and now?
Couldshe destroy it? Something she’d heard in the Hall probed her recollection...
Realization hit, and she moaned. Dang it! The Song of Life rendered the bones indestructible.
Very well. She’d brought Rathbone here to keep herself in the game, buy time, and re-earn the boon. Maybe fortify his trust in the process. She would stick with her current plan and fetch the clavicle.
Clavicle? That’s what she’d found? Neeka dove into the pile and made her way to Lore, who radiated desperation.
The female’s mouth moved at top speed, as if she was spewing her sentences. Neeka caught the wordsdig deep. Rather than watch the goddess’s lips for clarity, she got busy tossing and burrowing to find the object of her desire. Her wings flapped. Her biceps protested. Running out of options—oh! A clavicle with markings. She snatched it up and began her climb to the top of the pile, dagger at the ready.
Lore remained in place, not following the piece of herself. When Neeka saluted her with a middle finger, the other woman’s mask of desperation slipped the slightest bit, revealing a hint of cold hatred.
Well, well, well. The evil monstress lurked in there, after all.
Neeka blew her a kiss and bounded from the pit, more determined to save her world than ever. She catalogued the current situation.
The flames on Rathbone’s log had died, so there was nothing to keep the creature at bay. No, the beautiful king was forced to fend off slash after slash, fighting to avoid injury.
“I’ve got it, so you owe me a boon,” Neeka called, waving the clavicle to draw the creature’s attention her way. But the zombider spun and swiped at her faster than she expected, catching her off guard. She jumped back, whooshing into the pit once more, losing her grip on her remaining weapon and the bone.
Rathbone raced to shield her as the zombider rushed over. At the last second, the king angled his body, catching that piece of Lore before it clattered into the pile, leaving Neeka to crash. She lost her breath upon impact, stunned her into immobility.
That...that...jerk! She’d lowered her standards and allowed him to kiss her, and this was the thanks she got?
The zombider took advantage of her position, ramming a spike through her shoulder and pinning her down. Oh, the pain! Her back bowed, and she shrieked.
Just as a black film sprouted over her vision, Rathbone cut his way out of the creature’s chest. Out of. As if he’d flashed inside it. Guts and other things spilled over Neeka and the pile.
The zombider collapsed on top of her, sinking its fangs into her throat just before releasing its final breath. Another shriek barreled past her lips. No, no, no! Its venom. Her future. No!
Rathbone worked as fast as inhumanly possible, freeing her from the teeth as well as the dead weight. With a gentleness she resented, he collected her in his arms and carted her from the pit. By the time they reached the cave’s entrance, where they’d begun, she could see again.
“Let me go,” she demanded. When he refused, she beat her fists against his shoulders. How dare he act chivalrous after choosing a stupid bone over her very life.
Tears welled, and she struggled to blink them back.
“Are you crying?” he demanded, gripping her chin. He flinched before glowering. “You stop that immediately!”
“What? Me? Cry?” She hit him harder. “I hope your intestines rot and exit from your mouth! The zombider toxin has obviously affected my eyes. Shut up!”
He laid her down on the blanket, near the fire, still so gentle. Looking her over, he asked, “How do you feel?”
“How do you think I feel?” she snapped. “You’re the first one I’m eating when I turn.” How long did she have? Was she soon to hunger for living flesh? Would she rot and reek?
“You aren’t turning.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “You told me the Phoenix lord injected you with his toxin. How many doses have you received?”
Thinking about slaying her so she’d come back healed? “Only four. Not enough,” she grated. “No one has ever made the transition before receiving the tenth dose, so don’t you dare kill me. Even if I show signs of zombieism. You can’t. Because I’m calling in my boon.” It galled her to use it so quickly, and for this, a travesty of injustice he had caused. “You will give me a chance to recover. If you trust nothing else, trust this. Without me, you will never enjoy a true happily-ever-after.” Because Lore’s shadow monsters would eat him!
“I’m not giving you a chance to recover, I’m demanding you do it.” He balled and unballed his hands. “If we can return to my palace, I can aid you. Are you able to remove the metal shards?”
“Oh, I’ll remove those shards all right. With pleasure.” Never had she looked forward to injuring someone more.
Though her head swam and her stomach pitched, and all she wanted to do was lie back down and curl into a fetal ball, she lumbered to her feet.
Rathbone knelt in front of her and pointed to where he suspected the different pieces of metal were lodged. It took immense effort to concentrate on the task but somehow, she clawed and sliced and dug out the obstacles to her ticket home. Well, nothomehome. Her temporary HQ. The zombider’s toxin soon began to heat, cooking her from the inside and out. Reminded her of the Phoenix venom on steroids.
By the time she removed the last shard, sweat soaked her. “There. Done,” she said, breathing now a chore. She wiped her bloody hands on his skin. “Let’s—” A flash of movement drew her attention to the left. Except, no one had materialized. Had she glimpsed the future? “Someone comes.”
