Page 132 of Crown of Briars
“Endurance,” I guessed. “That’s your fae gift. You can push through the pain of your injuries for longer than an ordinary fae.”
Warwick’s smile was mocking as he inclined his head. “Excellent observation, Shadow King.”
He was cocky and arrogant. I could use that to my advantage. My shadows continued coating the ground until the leaves and roots were swallowed up in the darkness.
I forced a solemn expression on my face. “Perhaps I cannot beat you.”
Warwick chuckled. “It’s too late for surrenders, Varius. You won’t be leaving this forest alive.” He jabbed a finger toward Sybelle, who was watching the exchange with wide, horrified eyes. “And neither is she.”
A roar burst from me, and I unleashed everything on him. Shadows exploded around us, thickening and coiling around Warwick.
“You think this changes anything?” he spat. “Your shadows don’t frighten me. I’m well acquainted with the darkness.”
“Not my darkness,” I growled, then flicked my fingers. Tendrils of smoke wrapped around his ankles and wrists, tying them together.
Warwick’s eyes bulged as he struggled against my shadows. But they held him tighter, cinching until he yelped in pain.
“You didn’t know I could do that, did you?” I cocked my head at him, giving him a savage grin. “Underestimating the Shadow King will be the last thing you ever do.”
I picked up the dagger he’d dropped and raised it to his throat.
“If you… kill me…” he choked out, still straining against my shadows. “You’ll never… break your… curse.”
I bared my teeth at him. “I’ll take my chances.” With a swift motion, I dragged the dagger across his throat once. Twice. Three times.
If ordinary injuries wouldn’t faze him, then I had to be sure he was good and dead.
Rivulets of black blood poured from his neck. With a third slice, his head fell from his body and dropped onto the forest floor with a sickening squelch.
“Let’s see you recover from that,” I hissed.
I was panting hard, my body still hot with fury. Slowly, my shadows released Warwick’s body and retreated back toward me. But they didn’t vanish completely. I was still too enraged for them to leave.
A small hand grasped mine, and I whirled with a snarl.
Sybelle kept her fingers wrapped around me, undeterred by my blind rage. “You’re hurt,” she whispered, gesturing to the wound in my side.
I stared at her. Thick red blood matted her shoulder, and the jagged teeth marks embedded in her flesh made me see red again.
“He bit you,” I seethed, my voice hoarse and rabid. I didn’t sound like myself at all.
“It will heal,” she assured me. “We need to get you to a healer. You’re losing too much blood.” She tugged on my arm, trying to drag me away.
Only then did I notice the fear and exhaustion in her eyes.How long she had fought with Warwick before my arrival, I did not know.
But she had fought.
“Sybelle.” My voice was gentler now but still raspy.
She turned to look up at me, eyes wide. Her hair was full of twigs and leaves, and her cloak was ripped in several places.
But Mother of Shade, she had never looked so beautiful to me. She was a warrior. A goddess.
My wife.
My arm encircled her waist, drawing her chest to mine. She was breathing just as heavily as I was, her hands coming to my chest, her pulse racing. She stared up at me, eyes wild and frenzied. The heat of battle still roared in my blood, blotting out all sense of reason and logic.
All I knew was this feralneedcoursing through me. I gazed down at Sybelle, waiting for her to object or push me away.
