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I would kill him for this.
I stood and my short swords appeared in my hands. Fire ran up them, up my arms, covering my whole body.
Ziriel disappeared, but he’d be back.
“Burn.” The voice didn’t sound like me—too deep, too dark, too filled with hate and rage—but it was mine.
Drops of fire dripped from the ceiling.
“Burn this place to the ground.”
Fire licked up the walls and I didn’t care about anything or anyone.
Gales had been infected by djinn demons three centuries ago, and no one had known. This court had always kept to themselves, so no one noticed that they had turned dark and evil. But I’d come for a visit—at Eli’s insistence—fifty years ago. I’d almost taken a bite of the flesh they serve here, but I’d seen. I’d known.
I’d tried to rid the court of the demons, but Eli left and I couldn’t do it by myself.
This time would be different. This time they’d gone too far. This time they’d killed my mate.
Ziriel poofed in front of me, and he didn’t look scared. He was more of an idiot than I’d thought.
He threw Chris’ bargain chip at me, and it turned to glittering, golden dust in the air.
The chip was gone. Which meant Chris was gone. He was really gone.
“Van is bringing your mother.” He crossed his arms as he floated in front of me as if I was scared of him.
I had nothing left, certainly not fear of him.
“You’re going to want to calm down. She won’t be happy with you if you start another
war.”
“I don’t give a shit what she thinks. You’re dead.” The tears were still falling, and I didn’t care that he saw them. My words were minced, my jaw was tight, and I was filled with so much rage that I was hot—not from the fire flowing over my skin and clothes—but the fire that was raging inside, starting from the gaping hole where my heart used to live.
Ziriel didn’t seem to notice or care about my anger. He watched me with no fear in his red, glowing demon eyes. That was going to change.
“For everything you’ve done, you deserve a slow death, but I don’t care about long or short or how. I want you gone. Gone. Gone from this world. I want you dead. Dead. Dead and burning in Hell!”
A ball of fire grew behind Ziriel.
“Burn him!”
It slammed into Ziriel and he turned to smoke, reappearing ten feet away.
It hadn’t hurt him. Not even a little bit. But he’d made a mistake. He was watching me—focused on what I’d do next as I held out my flaming blades—but I was watching Rayvien move behind him.
Her gaze met mine and she gave me a small nod.
And I knew. Knew she would do it. For me or for herself, I didn’t care. As long as he was dead.
I stepped toward Ziriel and he grinned, waving me forward when he should’ve been watching his back.
He didn’t see Rayvien pull her sword.
He didn’t see her raise it high.
And when the too-sharp blade sliced his head from his body, he didn’t have time to react. The same cocky expression was on his face as his severed head bounced on the floor.
