Page 77 of Kill the Beast
There was also the matter of a certain witch that Lyssa had spent years pushing away—a witch who had given up her own teeth in exchange for her blacksmith’s life.
For thirteen years, Lyssa had been fighting for something important enough to die for. And now, all of a sudden, she had found something important enough to live for.
It scared the shit out of her. If she didn’t give this fight everything she had, she would fail. But hadn’t Ragnhild said that love would be the Beast’s undoing? That it would make the sword stronger—and maybe make Lyssa stronger, too?
A sword was not ready to be used the moment she was finished hammering it into shape. The metal had to be quenched, to strengthen it. Tempered, to make it less brittle. What if she was the same way? Rage alone only made her liable to break, if her fight with the mermaids was any indication.
But what if she fought for love, as well as vengeance? Fought for the hope of a life that didn’t revolve around the thing that had destroyed her?
She had already begun to forge something out of the wreckage the Beast had left behind. Something she found she very much wanted to continue forging, once her oath was fulfilled.
“Okay,” Lyssa said finally, looking up at Alderic—her friend.
His brows furrowed. “Okay?”
“I promise I will do everything within my power to survive the Beast,” she said, holding out her hand to seal it. “I’ll swear it in blood, if you want me to.”
“Please don’t,” Alderic told her, threading his fingers through hers instead of shaking on it. “I have seen entirely too much of your blood already.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY
“ABOUT YOUR PERSONALconcern,” Alderic said, draping an arm over the back of his chair. They were in one of the private booths at the Kingmaker, the remnants of their lunch scattered across the table. Lyssa hadn’t wanted to waste time eating, since they were already cutting it close as it was. They only had about a week and a half to go before the equinox, Alderic’s personal concern to obtain—if he could ever figure one out—and a sword to forge, which would take days at best,ifit didn’t crack during the quenching. Pausing for lunch was the last thing she felt like doing right now, especially since the knot of anxiety in her stomach had obliterated her appetite anyway, but Alderic had insisted that she needed nutrients in order to regain her strength.
“Shouldn’t you be worrying aboutyourpersonal concern?” Lyssa said. “It’s the only thing we have left to get, and if you don’t figure something out soon, we’re fucked.”
He studied her, his gaze unwavering. “I’m concerned that Brandy’s collar won’t be enough.”
“So you’ve said. But it’s going to have to do.” She grabbed another of the fist-sized pumpernickel rolls from the basket in the center of the table. “The photograph just isn’t feasible. I told you before, my father isn’t going to want to meet with me.”
“Maybe not,” he conceded with a tilt of his head, swilling his wineglass. “But hehasagreed to meet withme,to thank me properly for paying his hospital bill—and a few outstanding debts besides.”
“What?You—”
“It was the least I could do, after that unfortunate incident atthe memorial park.” His eyes glittered at the murderous expression on her face. “But all of that is water under the bridge, I am happy to report, and he should be arriving shortly.”
Lyssa pushed her chair back in alarm. “We’re meeting himnow?”
The corner of Alderic’s lips curved. “What do you think we’re doing here?”
She chucked her bread roll at his head. He caught it and took a bite out of it just as there was a knock at the door.
“Mr. de Laurent, sir?” came the host’s voice from the other side. “Mr. Cadogan has arrived.”
Alderic got to his feet and opened the door of the private booth, his body blocking Lyssa’s view of the hallway. She slid farther down in her chair and grabbed another bread roll, shredding it furiously while she tried to contend with the anger sharpening to a point inside her. HowdareAlderic arrange this meeting without asking her first? She should punch him in the face for springing something like this on her. She ripped another chunk from the roll, imagining it was his head.
“Mr. de Laurent,” she heard her father say, and her lip curled in disgust at the sound of his voice.
“Call me Alderic, please. It’s good to see you, Edmund. Leg feeling all right?”
“Much better, thank you. Listen, I cannot express how grateful I am for—”
“Please,” Alderic said, moving aside to give him enough room to enter the booth. He was on crutches, the leg Lyssa had slashed open wrapped up in bandages. “Have a seat. We’ve already eaten, but I could order you something, if you’d like.”
“No, thank you. I…” He froze when he saw Lyssa, the color draining from his face. His fear soothed her nerves, and she smirked.
“Hello, Father.”
