Page 51 of A Game of Monsters

“This is not the place for your meddling, Robin Icethorn,” Cassial sneered, voice booming around the stone pit. He held the bloodied saw before him – something that should only be used for cutting dried wood, not flesh and bone – like a shield.

Or perhaps a weapon.

However, with the magic flooding through me, I hardly felt threatened by it. Which was a shame for him. Because if he had his shield with him, perhaps he had a chance against me.

“The last man… to hold a weapon over me… didn’t live for long.” I could barely get my words out, as if my body decided words mattered little in a moment like this. In the dark and furious parts of my brain, I saw the Hunter who held an axe above my neck, prepared to bring it down and sever my head from my shoulders.

“It would not be wise to threaten me.” Cassial’s eyes widened. “In my own city, after we have graciously accepted you as our guest of honour.”

Spit and bile brewed in my mouth. I gathered it into a ball and spat it on the dusted floor before Cassial’s blood-splattered boots.

“Yourcity?” I seethed. “It seems like this concept of being the Saviour has gone to your head.”

Cassial’s wings flared wide, the span of them so impressive I was coated in shadow. He flapped them, growling as he prepared to get skyward, the saw dripping Rafaela’s blood onto the ground between us.

I wasn’t going to let him get away with this.

Before Cassial’s feet left the ground, they crystalised in mounds of ice, diamond-hard. He growled a song of frustration, wings pounding harder, forcing blood-tainted winds over me. I held firm, squinting against the force. My magic took those winds and wrapped them around us both. Like unseen fingers, I forced my power of storm and snow into Cassial’s throat, until I was aware of every ounce of air in his lungs, his body, his fucking blood–

“You lied,” I spat.

Weeks of pent-up emotion was on the brink of exploding out on him. Frost split the air, spreading across the natural sweat across his wings until I turned even his own bodily fluids against him. Ice crept over each feather, making them heavier, until he could no longer move them.

Cassial’s eyes bulged, his fear singing straight to my twisted soul. As much as I could’ve killed him, there was a part of me that knew it would have led to more trouble. So I withdrew enough magic for him to reply, needing his answers. Depending on what came out of his mouth, he would live past the next few minutes or die at my hand.

“This is none… of your business,” Cassial gasped, ice cracking over his jaw. “The matters we deal with are between the Nephilim and the Nephilim alone.”

I expected Cassial to submit to me, but he didn’t. Even with his body heavy with ice, his wings powerless and legs immobile, he never stopped fighting.

“If anyone is the Saviour, it is her,” I shouted, pointing toward the all-too-still body of Rafaela. “And yet youmutilateher for what reasons?”

“Rafaela belongs to us.” Cassial smashed one leg free of my icy bindings. “She is ours to do with as we wish. Her crimes–”

“Fuckher crimes.” Every ounce of emotion rushed out of me, no longer controlled. “It means nothing, all of it means nothing.”

Something snapped in Cassial, as though he read through my reaction and paused. I felt his resistance fade away so quickly, I almost sagged against the sudden draining of my energy. I was no longer a bottomless well of power – I was moments from reaching the end.

Something warm trickled out of my nose. If my hands weren’t focused on controlling the ice and wind, I would’ve found blood slipping over my lips.

Cassial noticed and smiled. “Are you sure, Robin Icethorn? Because of Rafaela’s actions, look at you. No longer the powerful King of the Icethorn Court. You have limits, a bottom to a once endless well of power. All because she coerced you into destroying Altar’s keys.” His gaze tracked over me, from my bloody nose to the slight quiver of my legs. “How long are you going to keep this little party trick up? Until it kills you, or until your meddling in Nephilim affairs ruins any hope for peace between us?”

As if I could ever contemplate peace with you.

I released the reins of my power, reserving the last scraps of it, just in case the moment required it. Cassial kicked free of the ice at his feet and shins, shaking his wings so the capsules of ice on each feather cracked and fell like sleet around him.

He raised the serrated saw, lips drawn back in a snarl, gaze completely lost to his need for vengeance. “I should have known you would come looking for her. As if those little letters you relentlessly sent were not proof of your guilt-born obsession with Rafaela. It would have been wiser for you to take my word that she was in Irobel and leave it at that. But no–”

“I will not turn a blind eye to your mistreatment of Rafaela. Not now, not tomorrow or the days that follow. If you raise a feather against her, do so knowing you will face my wrath.”

Cassial stopped, the saw paused inches from my face. I refused to flinch, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“It is too late for suchidlethreats,” he seethed.

“Threats aren’t something I toy with, Cassial,” I said. “Only promises.”

He laughed at me, blood splattering over his pristine outfit, reminding me of the almost-too-silent woman chained just behind him. “The treaty is all but signed. The wedding is proceeding.” His pale gaze narrowed on me. “You will not ruin any of this, the damage you’ve caused is enough.”

I lifted a steady finger, dropped it on the tip of the saw and guided it out of my face.

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