Page 63 of Chained Knight

Invisible force slammed into the Bright King, tossing him aside like a discarded doll. He flew, his sword’s heavy straight blade—a copy of the chained man’s, though lacking the wickedly taloned quillons—scintillating once before it landed and corkscrewed, blackening like paper in a fire.

He hit the already-cracked wall with a sickening crunch and Ari swayed on nerveless feet, her hands finding each other, clasping hard at the low V-point of her gown’s waist. Her mantle’s hem fluttered on a gentle, dusty breeze.

The Bright King slid down from the dent, landing with a heavy, horrible thump. Now she could see his face was a little sharper than Mike’s, lacking the blur of too many nights spent downing shots of Beam at the Kittykat Klub, and his bright blue eyes weren’t bloodshot. Nor did his nose have the slight bump from a touch football injury in high school, and no wheat-colored stubble roughened his cheeks.

Still, the resemblance was goddamn uncanny. Ari found she could breathe again. Cool air freighted with a faint tinge of musk and spice wrapped around her, filled her lungs. Shards fell from the ceiling, grinding to smaller splinters in midair, shattering further into deadly needles as they hit the floor, yet none came near her. Safe in an invisible, protective bubble, she examined Ternek, the faithless accursed.

The prince’s shoulders moved, a rolling motion as the last of his armor melted away. The chains slithered together, roll-melding into a single cable, a sinuous dull-black length rasping dryly as it curved for the fallen traitor.

Who coughed, a bubble of bright blood bursting on his lips. “You,” he husked, staring at Ari. “I killed you.”

Did you?Ari’s fingers knotted together so hard they hurt, a bright spike of pain through the layers of magical pondwater, the greater drink, and the prince’s unseen aegis. “I repaid the favour,” she heard herself say, softly, in the lovely, mellifluous language of this place. “We are quits in that, at least.”

The Bright King’s teeth were grimed with blood. Slivers of glass festooned his golden hair. He stared at her as if she’d spoken in English, or some other foreign tongue. The black iron snake slid between shattered mirror-fangs, its front end drawing up like a cobra’s questing head, muscular ripples running down its sides.

The prince waited, his silence almost like a living thing. Finally, he made a small shrugging movement, graceful and light. The ruins of armor settled into immobility on the floor at his booted feet, a discarded skin.

“My lady Moon.” Each word was a caress. “Tell me your mercy does not extend to this, your once-companion. All you must do is turn away, and consign him to my vengeance.”

“No.” That spurred Ternek to motion. He twitched, battered armor squeak-crumpling. Giant dents and pleats marred thebright metal; now he was the one trapped in an unforgiving carapace. “Please.” The half-familiar blue eyes widened, and he strained as if to lift an arm, once-bright metal creaking as the limb trapped inside struggled for release. “Please, no. I am sorry, I beg forgiveness. You are merciful, my lady Moon, please do not let him?—”

“What will happen?” Ari’s voice was husky as Hannixe’s in the village. The urge to cough mounted, as if she were still bruised from Mike’s strangling fingers. The Carcanet’s warmth pushed at the sensation, forcing it back bit by bit. “Afterward, I mean.”

“We shall rejoin your faithful, and ride by easy stages to the Keep.” The prince, chained no more, turned to gaze at her. His smile was no longer bitter. In fact, if he looked like this more often—interested, soft, expectant—nobody would ever fear him again. “We shall take up our old amusements, or new ones if you prefer; more companions will arrive when you wish for them. In some few mortal years none will recall this traitor’s name or his cursèd face, though I shall never leave my kindness unguarded again. I suppose that might count as remembrance, but I doubt it.”

Not quite what I meant. “You won’t…”You won’t send me back? I can stay?Would she sound like a needy little bitch—one of Mike’s favorite epithets, come to think of it—if she asked?

“Ariadne.” The way he pronounced her name was flat-out indecent. The chained-no-more reached out, and his fingers touched hers. A brief brush, bare flesh meeting for an instant, but it sent a scorch-thrill all through her. “Do you still doubt?”

“P-p-please,” Ternek stammered. “Please, m-mercy…”

“All you must do is turn away,” the prince continued, taking no more notice than of a buzzing fly at a picnic.

Turn away. It sounded so simple.

I wish I could. Ari swallowed, hard. If she didn’t do what he wanted, he probablywouldsend her back, which meant a lifetime spent running and looking over her shoulder if she was lucky.

If she wasn’t, a jail cell was the best she could expect. The Carcanet burned at her breastbone, and she would miss that pulsing fire, the sense of deep inarguable comfort.

It wasn’t the only thing she’d long for. “I can’t,” she said, heavily. “I’m sorry.”

The prince stirred; Ari stiffened, bracing herself. He took a single step toward her, eclipsing the sight of the fallen traitor. A stupid, paltry, futile little kingdom built on murder and suffering, now reduced to splinters.

“Merciful as ever,” the prince murmured, and lifted a hand. Ari flinched, but his fingertips merely stroked her cheek. He smoothed away the hot, swelling teardrop she hadn’t even been aware of, and smiled once more. “Very well.”

Ternek screamed. The cries rose in paroxysms of terror, far worse than the Goldens’ clanking or the moaning of the restless dead.

Ari wanted to look past the shadow before her, but his touch on her face was warm and forgiving, and he did not move. Metal rasped, slithered, punctured. A hiss, a rattle, a grinding of glass, a sound like landslides tearing apart hills on a storm-lashed summer evening.

A final cracking, as of a giant mirror splitting in half, and the cries cut off, cleanly.

“There.” The prince leaned down, and his lips met her forehead. A different heat than the Carcanet’s spilled down Ari’s back, curled low in her belly. “Do not be alarmed, my kindness; he yet lives. The mortal realm may have the accursed, and he will linger a long while there.”

Oh. Was he going to send her back now, too? Ari nodded, bracing herself.

When the prince stepped away, there was nothing but an empty suit of battered tin armor slumped against a cracked, dusty mirror. The two reflective halves above a discarded metal jumble didn’t show the throne room.

Instead, they were full of blue-and-red lights, the orange smear of a burning black car, and a blond man with his hands raised, his mouth a rictus and a flash of lightning glinting on two officers’ raised guns.

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