12. Onora
Chapter 12
Onora
O nora stared into the mirror, her stomach in knots. Today was the day she’d been waiting for all these years. She would take down the demon lord and be a step closer to toppling the entire House of Shadows.
So why had she woken up so anxious she’d vomited? Her skin seemed to stretch against her muscles tightly and her heart wouldn’t stop pounding. She gritted her teeth and splashed cold water on her face. She would get over this and then kill Dryston—make him pay for his horrible crimes.
She grabbed her ax and donned her dusty blue cape, tightening the clasp around her neck and letting it flow behind her. The color had always filled her with pride, a symbol of hope and resilience, of her skill and honor.
Her stomach only turned again as memories of Dryston flashed behind her eyes. Every moment with him came forth, and she turned it over, looking for any clues, any imperfection in the prism that had captivated and fooled her.
She came up with nothing.
Which was even more infuriating. The witness yesterday was confident in what she said. She’d been shaking in fear. She’d recognized Dryston.
Her stomach turned again, and her anger reignited.
She walked down the hall to the prison cells. So many people were here, ready to see this, ready for retribution against the demons.
Dryston sat against the stone wall when she arrived. Head hung low, his hair falling in soft waves about his face. He looked up, a cold resignation mixed bitterly with anger.
They opened the cell door, and she grabbed his chains. “Come along easily and I’ll make this quick.”
He stood slowly, looking down at her with a mixture of betrayal and pleading. He was insane if he thought that she would let him get away with what he’d done. She yanked on his chains, making him stumble a step, and his face came down close to hers.
“You’ll get what you deserve, bat, and it will be by my hands.”
He leaned forward more, his lips by her ears. “You will regret this until the day you die, Onora.”
The words tumbled out like a threat, as if he would exact some form of vengeance on her from beyond the grave. How could she regret it? This would be the fulfillment of her vow to herself, the beginning of the end of what she’d been training for since that night all those years ago.
She led him down the halls, out into the courtyard. People lined the sides, Hunters circling the middle where she would kill him. The crowd shouted and cried out, yelling profanities and threats at him as they came to the center.
Brayden hit him on the back of the knees, making him sprawl forward, catching on Brayden as he fell, and the Hunter gave him another kick for good measure. Her heart thumped in her ears, but her rage screamed louder, and she gripped the hilt of the ax.
“Any last words?” she asked.
He gazed at her for a long moment, unnerving, unyielding. Then he shook his head, defeated.
She stepped forward, raising the ax high. Brayden grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head back to expose his neck, and Dryston swayed into the man, nostrils flaring.
She readied herself for the blow and his eyes rose to meet hers, piercing through black hair, filled with a cold, cold rage.
Onora steeled herself against the wave of emotions that crashed into her. She needed to know that this feverish, aching want was just the thrall—and that she could overcome it. She hesitated, his verdant gaze penetrating into her soul and, like a song, it twined its shadows and sang, “this is wrong.”
Like crashing into icy water, that memory hit her again:
“Are you okay?”
She hesitated only a moment, just long enough to see a shift in his attention and long enough for him to move. A shackle fell off his right hand, and that hand reached up, grabbing her left and slapping the shackle onto her. In seconds, the world was pure darkness. She couldn’t see or hear anything, except Dryston’s careful breaths next to her ear, the feeling of him wrapping his hand around her throat and holding her against him.
“How the fuck are you doing this?” she gasped out.
But it didn’t matter. She tried to yank free, but his grasp tightened, and she expelled a hard breath as he clamped her lungs. She knocked her elbow into his ribs, and he grunted, his hands loosening for a second as she brought her head back, hitting his nose with a loud crack.
Shouts rose up outside the darkness, calling for Hunters to jump in and save her, but no one did. They were too scared. Before she could move, before she could say or do a thing, his arms braced around her again, harder this time, and her feet lifted off the ground as they moved upward, flying in the air with the beat of his wings. She screamed as the darkness followed, the world around her black as night.
“Let me go!” she growled.
“If I did that, you’d die,” Dryston said. “And while I have half a mind to return the favor, I need you for now.”
“How are you using your powers?”
He shouldn’t have been able to with the shackles on his wrists. Even though he removed one, the other should have left him weakened.
“I have no idea, but I thank the twin goddesses that I can. And I think you will too, when you realize I’m not lying.”
“Innocent men don’t need to flee.”
“How simple your life must be to live in a world that requires so little nuance.”
She struggled against him as the darkness fell away, disappearing like smoke in the breeze. The earth spanned out, leagues and leagues beneath her, fields and rivers and forests. She screamed again, but his arm tightened around her, his other grabbing below her legs. She was too terrified to do anything but cling to him, her mind reeling from the height, terror gripping her.
When she adjusted, her wits coming back to her, she let go of his shirt, looking pointedly away. Fighting was no use. She would die if he dropped her now. Or, because she was still chained to him, she would dangle, her shoulder dislocated, bruises and harm befalling her.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” she growled.
“Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear. So far, no dice, though.”
She whipped her head to look at him and his gaze found her again, fixed on her with the fire of a thousand suns. The anger felt like a physical blow, and she blinked, her body tightening anxiously from simply a look.
“I didn’t do what I was accused of, Onora. Did those months of traveling together mean nothing to you? Did I not show an ounce of my character during that time?”
She drew in a deep breath, her own anger rising. “You certainly presented your character one way. Now I know it’s different.”
“How so? Based on one eyewitness, who was so grief-stricken and crazed that she’s reliable? Is that more real than the time I saved you?”
She brought a dagger up to his throat. His eyes shot up in surprise and she smirked. “If I have to tell you one more time that you didn’t save me, I will kill you right here and plummet to my death to defend my honor.”
He ground his teeth, jaw flexing. “You might actually be insane.”
They flew over the woods and finally dipped down below the tree line. Her heart pounded loud in her ears with anticipation as his feet hit the ground, his strong arms carefully letting her stand. He made no move to harm her as he looked at his surroundings. In complete control. Unafraid.
She gripped the hilt of her dagger holstered next to her hip. He was paying little attention to her, clearly not seeing her as a threat. All the better. She’d never needed others to accept her prowess or see her as dangerous. She’d learned long ago that the more an opponent underestimated her, the better the outcome for her.
He was only wearing trousers and a tunic, his boots having been abandoned in his room at the inn. His clothes hung tattered and dirty, but his muscles showed through the holes, and she hesitated for a moment.
It had been ages since she’d gone head-to-head with a demon. He had a solid eight inches on her and she was tall by human standards. His shoulders spanned a ridiculous width, his biceps easily twice the size of hers. If she wasn’t careful, even without his magic, he could harm her easily.
She unsheathed the dagger, quiet and swift, as she took a step toward him.
His head whipped to her, eyes filled with a wrath that made every one of her instincts light up in danger. She thrusted the dagger but missed as he dodged, sliding it into his shoulder. He grunted, clamping his mouth shut to mute the noise, and grabbed her arm, throwing her against the tree.
Her ribs popped and she let out a yelp, loud enough she hoped it carried to any Hunters looking for them. Bringing her knee up, she slammed into his crotch. She didn’t hit where she needed and while he winced in pain, it wasn’t enough to keep him from cracking his forehead against hers.
Pain radiated across her skull as they stumbled away from one another, swaying and dizzy. But he missed a step, falling back and the chain yanked, pulling her off her feet, and she slammed into him, hitting the ground in a loud crash, sticks and stones scraping her face. He moved to get up, but she swept at his leg, making him fall back with a groan before flipping over and on top of her.
“Onora, I swear to the gods if you don’t?—”
She yanked the dagger out of his shoulder and rammed it into his stomach. Shock rippled over his features as she wrapped her legs around him and twisted, flipping him over so she was on top now. She pulled the blade out and brought it to his throat, letting it slice enough that a bead of blood bubbled onto the sharp metal.
He grabbed her wrist, twisting, and she cried out as agony rippled up her arm. He had her flipped over again, his legs holding hers in place, his hands gripping her wrists so hard they ached.
Blood from his wounds dripped on her, but even the one on his shoulder was already healing.
Godsdamnit. She needed more velin. The earlier doses were already wearing off. She wouldn’t be able to make any headway without it.
She rammed her forehead to his nose, the satisfying SMACK making her grin. His face contorted into rage, and panic hit her at the same moment his hand gripped her neck, slamming her into the ground with a force that made her gasp, her eyes watering. Against her will, her body shook as scenes and visions danced behind her eyes of all the times Varek did something similar, of all the times she’d seen a human neck snapped as if it were nothing.
His grip loosened, a wary—but worried—look coming over his face.
“I’m not interested in harming you,” Dryston growled, his face dangerously close to hers, his hot breath hitting her skin. “But I will if I have to. Play nice, and when we get these shackles off, I’ll let you go.”
She barely processed his words as her whole body became rigid, her breathing labored. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t do anything, and if he decided, in a split second, she’d be dead.
It would all be over. This was how she met her end. How she’d always feared.
Chained and under a demon, at his mercy and finding none.
“If I let you go, you won’t try to kill me?” he asked.
She didn’t respond. She couldn’t respond. Her mind was flooded with terror, and her body was about to start shaking again from the horror of it. This had happened only a few times before. Usually, her response was only to fight. On the rare occasion that it was clear she wouldn’t win, her body took over and froze.
He removed his hand, keeping it close, looking her over as she shuddered and she closed her eyes, hating the pity, hating the concern. What in the darkest pit did he have to be concerned about her? What about all the innocents he’d killed? What about the woman who had testified against him?
She managed the slightest of nods and he stood, staring at her warily. She rubbed her neck and stood shakily, embarrassed by how terrified her body had been, how every inch of her felt tense and worn out from the encounter. His eyes dipped to her neck, something like shame replacing his rage, and he hastily looked away.
She pressed against her skin and knew that bruises were already visible there.
He gestured forward. “Let’s go west.”