Page 178 of Vicious Is My Throne

Or she’d hunt us to the ends of the world.

Go. Protect them. My darklings untangled themselves from my ankles and spread across the floor like a pool of still water, reflecting the shifting stars above, along with Gelvira’s hateful face.

“I see some things never change, including your disgusting little pets.”

Gelvira’s beauty twisted into something hideous, her callous laugh wending through the cave, stripping the last of my reservations away.

Only one of us would walk away from this.

And it sure as fuck wouldn’t be her.

“Fine, then. It’s been a long time since we have faced off like this, sister.” Her smile gleamed with an eternity of jealousy and rage, and then she transformed, growing taller, like a blackened oak tree rising from the ground, twisted, thorned branches stretching to block out the sun.

I backed away, horror sluicing through my veins.

She had no face, no eyes or nose or expression, nothing but consuming malevolence seeping out of her, same as her brother. Writhing vines covered her body, glossy with blight, the reek of rot returning tenfold.

Holy gods, Gelvira was as corrupted as Corvus, stopping only when her head scraped the ceiling, thirty, forty-feet high, arms long enough to touch both walls.

“Well,” I forced myself to say, wetting my dry lips. “I have to say, the glamour suited you better.”

The top of her form moved. A shrug, maybe. “It was time to stop pretending.”

“Yes, I agree,” I told her quietly, and dove into the depths of my power.

Cold, primal rage rippled through me, leaving my mind clear and focused enough to launch a blast of light toward Gelvira. Her shadows sundered beneath the assault, igniting the drifting stars into spectacular explosions as my magic expanded, devouring everything it came in contact with.

She sent out a return blow and my magic stopped, shuddered, then collapsed beneath her crushing counterattack. Her magic—and her fury—hit me a second later, buckling my knees, sending me crashing to the floor.

“You will find, sister, you are not as strong as you imagine.” The taunt echoed hollowly as she gathered her power once more, sending darkness flying. “Oh, you are clever and deceitful to a fault, but true power is honed and hoarded over eons, not months.”

I crawled behind the pile of rocks as her shadows swelled above me, hastily casting domes of protective light over the three forms stirring on the floor, and the one that still wasn’t moving at all.

My heart cracked open, then the world exploded.

Rock plummeted down, shattering around me, the mountain groaning as that dark wave struck all three walls like a battering ram then raced out through the opening, ringing across the valley below with a deafening crack as I climbed to my feet, brushing off dust and chunks of rock.

Protect them. Don’t let her touch a hair on their heads. My darklings slithered over my frosty domes, weaving themselves together until each shield resembled an enormous droplet of water.

I could see my males inside, even Tavion, until Gelvira sundered the air apart with her next attack, the walls shaking beneath the impact, the ceiling groaning.

More and more of her magic flooded the cave, wave after swollen wave burying me beneath its crushing weight.

I shut down my fear and shoved back with the force of a dying star.

Fueled by months of pent-up wrath, by the need to protect my fallen warriors, I sent cold power hurtling toward her, oblivion cloaked in ice and snow, an avalanche meant to crush a god.

It was a direct hit.

The monstrosity that was Gelvira reeled back a step, the floor cracking beneath her while I lunged up, magic flowing out of me in a river of ice, a flood that wrapped around her ankles before that frosty power solidified into a frozen pool. She yanked and snarled, fighting to rip herself free.

She was contained.

But too close to Tavion.

Almost right on top of Zor. So close she could touch him.

The knife…The shattered blade was scattered in pieces across the floor. The hilt lay in the center of the room, not far from where I’d thrown them. Right on top of the thin lines of gold, still pulsing softly with golden power.

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