Page 72 of Vicious Is My Throne

I studied the blood. Trubahn might have been a right bastard, but I’d never wish his death on anyone.

The bedside table held a sundry of odd devices, including some inventive sex toys that made me blush before I slammed the drawer closed. “Nothing. What about you?”

“The arsehole loved his foppish clothes, but no sign of a priceless amulet.” Coz braced his hands on his hips, studying the cluttered top of the dresser, while I turned my attention to the sideboard, the only furniture in the room we hadn’t searched.

Muffled screaming came from directly in front of the shop, the clang of metal on metal, creative cursing, and then a deafening roar as a plume of fire raced past the windows, hot enough to make the air inside the room ripple.

“Hurry,” Coz warned, flinging books onto the floor. “That was Zeph.”

I pawed through the shelves inside the sideboard, laden with even more books, hand-scribbled notes, rolled up parchments, and notes that looked like they’d come from an owl’s leg.

“I don’t fucking see the damned thing. It should be right on top if it’s here.”

“Godsdamn should be, but it isn’t.”

Something crashed nearby, timber and glass and slate being crushed beneath an immense force.

“Zeph’s tail,” Coz muttered, sweeping his hands through the dust left on the dresser. “He’s close. And I still don’t see anything.”

Every drawer and door stood open, the floor littered with books and clothes soon to become nothing but ash. “We’re out of time, Zor.” Coz slammed his fist into the wall. “It’s not here.”

“It has to be,” I muttered, moving to the spot where I’d found the hunk of melted metal. “Right here. It was right here.”

I swept my eyes over the room one last time, and then the front windows blew inward, moist, noxious heat flooding the room.

Cosimo scanned the table, and our eyes fell upon the pitcher at the exact same time. I dove for it, dumping the water into Cosimo’s cupped hands.

The pendant gleamed in his palms, perfect and untouched, a tiny fire glowing in the heart of the spinel stone. “Fucking finally. Let’s get out of here.”

No sooner were the words out of my mouth than Cosimo shoved me to the floor, my shoulder cracking as it took the brunt of the impact. A black-scaled tail swept overhead, ripping through the walls like paper.

“Crawl for the door,” Cosimo ordered, his voice slicked with fear. “Now.”

I shoved the pendant deep into my pocket, dug in my elbows, and pulled myself toward the rear of the shop, broken glass and slivers of wood embedding themselves into my flesh as I dragged myself along.

“Faster,” Cosimo grunted. “We can’t be in here when?—”

The world disappeared beneath a haze of pain as blue-hued fire swept over us like it had been belched up out of the Pit, hot enough to melt flesh from bone, to turn us both into charred husks. Every breath seared my lungs with acrid fumes, every sound muffled.

The ground beneath me heaved.

Not an earthquake but Zephryn thundering through the front room, fire and wood and shards of glass turning the air above us into a death zone.

“Faster,” Cosimo grunted, and I realized…my back was burning, but I wasn’t actually on fire.

A thin layer of magic stood between me and Zeph’s devouring flame, thin enough to keep me from turning into a charred corpse but not my flesh from blistering from the intensity of the heat. I crawled faster, feet shoving against whatever I could find to propel myself forward. Cosimo was behind me where the flames were at their worst.

“Go,” Cosimo groaned, and I stopped, reached back, and wound my fist into the collar of his silk robe before yanking, the smooth fabric slipping precariously between my fingers.

“Next time, wear something fucking appropriate for the occasion,” I snarled, but he was already unconscious, nothing but dead weight as I dragged him the last few feet into the alley.

Zephryn raged, but through some stroke of luck we probably didn’t deserve, the back wall of the shop held, a brick barrier between us and the consuming dragonfire.

I dropped Coz onto the cold stones, checked his pulse, and lifted a lid to find his eyes rolled back into his head. Our backs were scalded, his seared with the definitive pattern of the metallic threads woven into his robe, and it served the bastard right for wearing such a ridiculous getup when he should have fucking known we’d be running for our lives tonight.

I winced with every movement but managed to push upright, sparks spilling over the brick wall, filling the alley with light as they poured down over us like fiery rain. I pulled the device off Cosimo’s neck and draped the chain over my head before I squatted down beside him and gripped his hand.

“No knowing where we’ll end up, but it’s got to be better than this hellhole.”

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