Page 54 of Vicious Is My Throne

“You won’t be able to wield that weapon,” Gideon ground out. “You’re a half-breed.”

“I prefer child of two worlds. Sounds nicer.” I snapped the lid shut, holding out my hands for my darklings. My fingers went numb as they slipped into me, like ink into paper, soaking in deep. But a deep sense of foreboding settled into my gut like I’d touched one of the skulls.

“Three worlds if you count wherever we came from in the first place.” My magic swirled around us like a tapestry, shadow and stars and liquid, sentient darkness.

“Let’s go.”

“The weapon isn’t complete,” Ophelia called, her voice strangled. “You cannot wield that blade until you have the other piece.”

I kept my expression bland, though every piece of me wanted to gloat. “If there’s another piece, we’ll find it, even if we have to hunt to the ends of every realm,” I told her. “Your opportunity to negotiate is over. You had your chance, now you take your chances with the blight.”

“You can’t leave us here. What if the wards fail?” Gideon screamed. “You’re taking our most valuable artifact and leaving us with nothing?”

“I came here to forge an alliance with you, but that appears impossible.” I shrugged. “You chose your side, and now we’ll see if you chose well.”

“You aren’t going to convince us to join your side? We’re two of the strongest witches in both realms.”

“I don’t give a good godsdamn how strong you are. You are both pieces of shite and if I never see you again, it will be too soon. Your only hope is if I find this other piece before the blight oozes through your wards. Any idea where it might be?”

“The Oracle,” Gideon offered quickly. “She wears the other piece around her neck. She knows if she possesses part of the weapon designed to kill her…”

I was nodding on our way out the door.

“She’s safe.”

19

ANARIA

The clouds were swallowing us up when the two witches broke free of my magic and raced into the street below.

I couldn’t hear what they were yelling, only saw fireballs flare before Tristan soared out of range.

The clouds enveloped us in a cold, wet mist, droplets rippling down the wyvern’s neck. We had the sword, and our confirmation—the pendant was definitely the other piece. All we had to do was retrieve it from Trubahn’s shop.

I patted Tristan’s side, his scales smooth as glass. “You are never to offer a drop of your blood to anyone, ever again, least of all witches.”

He huffed out a sound, somewhere between an apology and a snort, then banked to the right, heading for the Wynter Palace.

We both knew the Oracle was there.

I flattened myself along his spine. “Faster, Tristan. I’m not going to fall.” At least, I fucking hoped not.

The wind roared dully in my ears, mist pouring over Tristan’s wings as we flew, swifter than I ever thought possible. We circled the palace, flying low enough two Reapers broke free from the main host over Tempeste and headed our way.

I blasted them into slips of shadow, and a moment later we touched down in front of the palace, kicking up enough dust to clog my nose. No scent of rot. Not yet.

But the atmosphere at the palace turned darker.

Tristan shifted back to his Fae form the moment I was off his back, and I tossed him his trousers then handed him his knives as he slid his feet into his boots.

I shoved the box into his arms. “Hide this. Somewhere I can’t see. Now, before we go inside.” With a quick nod, Tristan crashed through the bracken beside the castle and disappeared.

Fear wove through my chest with every tortuous minute he was gone, my heart beating so hard my ribs ached. Finally, Tristan reappeared picking leaves from his hair.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” His gaze was steady, even though his face was leached of color. “We can leave, Anaria. We should leave. Right now. Fly to Blackcastle.” His fingers bit into my arms. “Find the other piece. Complete the weapon. At least then we’d be ready.”

“I know.”

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