Page 10 of Kiss of Death
From myself.
From the Rothschild blood in my veins. From the strength of my ancestors long dead. From the spirit of my father, who clung to life on the other side of those doors. I didn’t need the army of the dead to win this battle.
I was enough.
The soldiers who bravely protected the keep had all been slain, their dead bodies littered on the ground like trash. The dozen Barbarians turned their attention on me, coming to their leader’s side, their armor different from the vampires I’d slain in the southern battlefield. Black and maroon with gold accents, they looked more like generals, the finest soldiers ordered to protect their king.
Their leader stepped forward, the hilt of his blade grasped in his golden knuckles. His maroon hood covered the tops and sides of his face. “We meet again, Lily Rothschild. But I suspect you’ve met me far more often than I’ve met you.”
I didn’t let his words distract me. Everything my father taught me came back to me, that words were a different kind of weapon. They assaulted the mind and lowered physical defenses. As he drew close to me, I continued to pivot my body toward him, to make sure I was ready for an unexpected assault.
“King Kennt of the Barbarians—and now the Southern Isles.”
“Not while I still stand,” I said calmly, not letting my heart rate rise to his provocations. My focus was sharper than the edge of a blade, and I kept it there.
“Your fleet is overwhelmed. Your dragons continue to fall from the sky and become creatures of the darkness. Your army to the south will be destroyed by vampires—including your brother.” He kept striding forward, his men stopping behind him and letting the distance grow. “Tell me, do you want your brother to end up like them? To feast on the blood of mortals to sustain his immortality?—”
“Your words bounce off my armor just as your sword will.” I maintained my calm, anxious to raise my blade against his and let that be the conversation that mattered.
He came to a stop, his golden blade even more brilliant in the light of the bonfires. “Even if you’re lucky enough to defeat me, the battle will still be lost, Lily. But you have the chance to put an end to it—right here.”
I said nothing, focused on my posture and my feet, studying his body in anticipation of the first move.
“Agree to be my wife and rule the Southern Isles together—and this war ends.”
“No.”
“Surely you must know you’ve already lost this battle?—”
I slammed my fist hard into my chest and made a thud so loud it echoed in the courtyard. “I know that I will slice your head from your shoulders and feed it to my dragon. That I will cut down your bodyguards and let their burned flesh taint the smellof blossoms in the air. I know that the Southern Isles will have many casualties in this battle—but we won’t lose the war. Now shut your mouth and fight me because I’ve been waiting for this moment since you stabbed my father.”
“You have no chance to prevail?—”
“Let’s see, shall we?” I banged my fist against my chest again, but this time, I did it repeatedly, creating the sound of war drums on my own without an army, just me against a dozen of Kennt’s finest.
He watched me behind the confines of his golden mask before he turned to his men behind him. He said something that was hard to hear over the noise of my beating fist, but it sounded like, “Take her alive.”
He finally turned back to me and spun his blade around his wrist.
My fist dropped from my chest, and I straightened my spine and shoulders, the blade in my grasp suddenly feeling heavy when I thought about the opponents I had to face on my own. They barred my way to the castle, where my mother stood at my father’s side, prepared to die to protect him if I failed.
Kennt moved toward me as his men joined his ranks—and they all came for me.
I pictured my father’s face, the pride in his eyes when we finished a sparring match. The way he gripped my shoulder and told me how proud he was. The way he always said I would be a better ruler than any man in the kingdom.
His life was in my hands…and I felt that heaviness in my blade.
I watched them converge on me, watched them change the grips on their blades as they decided how they would strike me.
Then I heard Khazmuda’s voice in my head.He feels you, Lily.
I sucked in a harsh breath as I stepped back.
Then I heard my father’s own voice in my head, channeled through his fuse with Khazmuda and my fuse with Zehemoth, our minds momentarily connected for an instant before he slipped away. With the voice of a fearless king, ironclad in confidence, he spoke to me.Defeat them, Lily.
The second I heard it was the second I knew he was gone, back under the subconscious veil where he remained prisoner to his mortal wound. I felt the burn in my eyes as a wave of moisture filled my gaze, an emotion so profound for a moment it left me breathless…and then invigorated me.
A strength more powerful than the command of the dead, the power of a god, and the ferocity of a dragon fueled me.My father’s love.
