Page 12 of Vicious Is My Throne

Finally, we splashed into the deep, fast-running creek, the freezing water swirling up to Tavion’s ankles. Up to my thighs.

“Fuck, that’s cold as a witch’s tit. Must have come straight down from the high passes,” Tavion complained, my teeth chattering as the water rushed past us. “We have to make this fast, Anaria. Before Tristan returns.” He nodded to my mare, her head hanging low as she took a long draw of water.

“Clean your hand and face first; I’ll start on their legs. Did you bring gloves?” he asked, bending to smooth the oily residue off his horse’s legs. Like dye, the rot stained the downstream water black, leaving the same foul smell lingering behind even with the fast-running current.

“No. I brought a cloak. I didn’t think I’d need gloves.” I braced myself for a scolding, but he only gestured to the creek bank.

“Then let me do this. You shouldn’t touch his magic again. Ever.” He methodically worked on one horse at a time, the poor creatures hanging their heads, withers shuddering in pain or relief, I wasn’t sure.

“We’ll let the stream rinse the rest away.” Tavion stared, head cocked. I followed his gaze and my blood went cold. Around the far-off bend, the black oil slick crawled toward us, devouring everything in its path, creeping up the trunks of trees, branches withering as we watched, dead, blackened leaves drifting down over us, dark as ravens’ feathers.

“They’ll be here,” Tavion muttered as if to himself. “Tristan will find them and get them out.”

“We can’t stop this, can we?” I watched the flooded creek wind away through the forest. “How did this get here so fast? Last night…” I swallowed. “Last night, Zeph said the blight was still a few days away, that the path to Nightcairn was clear.”

Don’t say it. I squeezed my hands into fists. Don’t say it.

“Corvus knew we’d investigate the blight,” Tavion said slowly as my stomach dropped to my feet. “This is the only road to Nightcairn…He would know that too.”

An Old God hundreds of miles north in a cave was not only poisoning our world, he’d set a trap. And we’d stumbled straight into his ambush.

“It would have taken him time to realize his sister was gone,” Tavion mused, handing my reins back to me. “Maybe he was tentative at first, sending his rot creeping out of his cave, expecting her to sweep in and stop him.” He paused long enough to frown, rubbing his thumb over my flaming cheek.

“When she didn’t, he grew bolder. Now he’s taking over as fast as he can.”

“We have to stop him. Before he reaches Blackcastle.” I nodded to the swollen creek, where downstream the once crystal-clear water was murky and oil slicked, blackness already creeping over the banks wherever the polluted water touched. “Once this gets into the city, no one will escape.”

We stood there for a long time, wet feet frozen, the forest silent around us, waiting for something to emerge from the advancing darkness.

A golden wyvern.

Raz or Zorander.

Anything besides this awful sense of wrongness that made me want to scream.

My mouth tasted like ash, every muscle in my body ached, and my wet hands were numb from the cold.

That darkness—that guttering, consuming darkness—stretched endlessly, yet something waited inside those deep shadows. Watched us with an ancient, ravening hunger. A branch cracked.

Another.

And when the first creature crept out, sharp teeth gnashing, spiked feet sinking into the forest floor like knives, I slid the iron bands down my arms and released a shaky breath as my magic roared to life.

“Get behind me, Tavion.”

“Fuck that, Anaria. Fuck that.” Steel hissed against leather and echoed the growling creatures as they slithered toward us, splitting into two groups.

Fuck. Harder to fight.

I’d never seen anything like them, and that was saying a lot given these past months. They had four hinged legs, each terminating in one sharp talon, perfect for stabbing and impaling. A hard, spiked shell covered their small heads, which were little more than two tiny eyes, holes for nostrils, and a snapping, pincer-like mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth.

“Hideously ugly. Definitely Corvus’s creations.” I kept my tone even as my mare ripped the reins from my hand. Two of the creatures fixed on the sudden movement, sword-like feet plunging deep into the soil as they scurried toward us.

“Is this some kind of sick hobby he has on the side, do you think?” Tavion asked through clenched teeth.

“Hobby or not, these are definitely his magic. Chances are steel won’t work against them. Now get behind me, Tavion. Your sword will do us no good right now; don’t even bother arguing.”

“Why is everything he makes so fucking ugly?” Tavion spat, still not putting his sword away. “And look at the way they crawl across the ground. Fuck Corvus and his twisted magic.”

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