Chapter 26
RHI
The tip of my sword sits just below the hollow of Isadora’s throat. Her body is sprawled on the ground of the sparring arena, strangled breaths moving past her lips. Sweat pours from my temples, down the back of my neck, and in between my breasts as the suns’ rays beat down on my back.
“You’re dead.” I breathe heavily, having spent the last three hours sparring with Isadora, who hasn’t been able to disarm me once. Normally, my competitive nature would preen at that knowledge, but in this case, the woman’s life is at stake.
She isn’t going to last an hour in The Harrowing.
Determination twists her features, those dark eyes narrowing and her lips set in a straight line. Her cheeks are flushed, her porcelain skin doing her no favors under the heat and radiance of the suns. Her pale hair is matted against her forehead, loosening from her otherwise secure braid.
It also doesn’t help that we are dressed in black fighting leathers. The shirts, though strapless to help with the heat, do nothing to guard against the suns’ rays.
I pull the sword back, allowing her to stand. Isadora does so shakily, exhaustion blanketing nearly every limb as she wobbles. She licks her dry, cracked lips and says, “Again.”
Sneaking a glance at Nick, I hear her grumble. I don’t necessarily want his approval, but rather, I’d like a second opinion as to whether we should keep going or take a break, lest I actually kill her before this trial even begins.
Nick nods once.
Isadora rushes at me with no warning—her first mistake. I’m hardly taken off guard, as her grunts and strained pants give her away. One swipe of my sword is all it takes to knock hers from her grasp, and she huffs in defeat before sinking to her knees.
Again, I glance at Nick. His face betrays no emotion, though I know he must be worried to some extent. He doesn’t want Isadora to die, and neither do I, but it is clear as day if she doesn’t pick up some form of defense, she’s as good as dead.
It’s Belial’s face that snags my attention. If Nick is a portrait of perfect nonchalance, Belial’s is the opposite: brows drawn together, worry lines bridging the gap between his eyebrows. His mouth is slightly parted, eyes fixated on Isadora, as though willing her to get up and fight.
She remains on the ground.
“Who trained her?” Belial shouts, looking over at Nick then Baal, who straightens a bit under the harsh gaze of the Prince of Hell.
The three men stand against the arena’s edge, a good distance from me and Isadora.
Belial is between Nick and Baal, one hand on the hilt of the sheathed sword at his waist while Nick has his arms crossed over his chest. Baal, true to form, idled languidly—that is, until Belial cut him with glare when asking about training Isadora.
“I did,” he replies, seemingly attempting not to cower beneath Belial’s gaze.
Belial nods towards us. “No wonder Isadora can’t hold her own against Rhiannon. You never once bested my nephew in all your sparring.”
“Ok,” Belial begins, in a miffed tone, “first of all, how do you know that, and second of all, how the fuck could I show up the Devil himself in a sparring match? He’d have my head.”
“Rhi did, and her head is still attached,” Nick argues.
It’s Baal’s turn to glare. “If I was sucking your dick, I’m sure you’d find an excuse to keep me around too.”
As soon as the words leave his mouth, Baal knows it’s the wrong thing to say. He barely has time to lift a finger before Nick is in front of him, plunging his own sword through Baal’s stomach. I suck in a sharp gasp as Nick yanks it out, the smooth blade covered in black blood.
Baal falls to his knees, clutching his abdomen. “Ow. Fuck. That fucking hurt!”
“I’m glad,” Nick replies. “Friend or not, Baal, speak about her like that again, and next time, it will be your fucking heart.”
Belial watches Nick, lips twitching as he again settles beside his uncle. Baal remains on the floor, groaning and muttering. Nick side-eyes his uncle, watching with interest in how the demon’s golden eyes remain fixed on the girl at my feet, something like concern swimming in them.
Come here, he says in my mind, the words like a soft purr.
Just as I turn to head towards Nick, Belial approaches, paying me no mind as he kneels by Isadora’s side. Not wanting to eavesdrop—ok, maybe a little—I walk towards Nick while craning my neck so I can see the two of them in my periphery.
Belial crouches in front of her, his lips moving. Isadora stares at him beneath thick, fringed lashes, blinking slowly, taking in whatever he says. I could tap into my Scylla to hear better, but encroaching on their privacy feels wrong.
Nick is smiling by the time I reach him.
“What’s that shit-eating grin for?”
His eyes fall to mine, flashing mischievously. “I think I know what Belial wants.”
I reach for a leather satchel of water and follow Nick’s gaze towards the couple whispering on the arena floor. My eyes immediately narrow. “No.”
“No?”
“No,” I repeat, facing him. “The girl is trying to rid herself of controlling men, and you want to thrust her into an arranged marriage?”
“She would be Queen, Rhi,” he protests. “She would answer to no one.”
“Except her husband,” I point out. “How well do you know your uncle, Nick? Enough to ensure he wouldn’t take advantage of her? Enough to know he wouldn’t abuse her like her father?”
Nick doesn’t argue, though I can see his tongue run across his teeth, pushing his top lip out.
“I will take over Isadora’s training,” Belial’s voice cuts our stare-down short.
We both face Belial and Isadora, who now stand side by side, looking oddly like a romantic couple.
Perhaps it’s the ease I notice in Isadora’s face with Belial by her side, as though she finally has someone who will champion her.
Still, I don’t trust him. I take a step toward her. “Is that what you want?”
Her brows knit together in confusion before she answers. “Yes. I would very much like that.”
“Are you sure?” I press.
“Did she stutter?” Belial sets that intense glare on me, which prompts Nick to step forward, sidling next to me.
“Drop the attitude, Uncle. She is rightfully concerned.”
“I can assure you all, I agreed to this and am perfectly fine to train with Belial.” Isadora throws up her hands. “I am not quite sure what all this drama is about.”
“You heard her,” Belial says. “Now, if you don’t mind, we are all wasting precious time.
” With that, he leans down and whispers into Isadora’s ear.
His hand falls to her back, and he guides her away from us, that same hand splayed somewhat protectively at the base of her spine.
This time, I do eavesdrop, just enough to hear the words “hilt” and “hand placement” and “weight distribution” before I tune them out. Nick clears his throat.
“What?” I look up to find another shit-eating grin.
“Still don’t think the two of them might make a good match?”
“No,” I repeat, even though a small kernel of doubt sprouts and grows the longer I watch them. Belial is patient and gentle with her, nothing like the formidable Prince of Hell I met the other night.
“What if I asked her?”
Again, I glance at him. The smile is gone now, replaced by an expression of pure tension. He’s worried—worried if this doesn’t work, he and I will never leave.
Never mind that I have to survive tomorrow first.
“If you ask her, she would likely acquiesce out of a sense of duty, and don’t tell me I’m wrong,” I say when he opens his mouth to argue. “She’s done what is expected of her her whole life. Do you think that is something so easily discarded?”
Nick gently takes my chin within his fingers. “How is possible that you are so—”
“Obstinate? Argumentative? Stubborn—”
“Incredible,” he finishes on a breath. “You have no obligation to this woman, yet you fight for her like she is one of the girls. Isadora has never had someone in her corner, Rhi. I know you feel like you have to be, and I love that about you, but what if someone else is too?”
His gaze slides towards Belial and Isadora. Mine follows.
Belial stands behind her, hands over hers on the hilt of the sword, turning her wrist this way and that as he instructs her with words. Though their position seems intimate, it doesn’t appear sexual, and Isadora appears relaxed and focused with Belial guiding her.
I finally face Nick, who grins a bit triumphantly.
“We both have to make it through The Harrowing first,” I remind him, wiping the smile from his mouth. “Then, we’ll talk.”
I spend the rest of the afternoon physically sparring with Nick. He doesn’t allow me to use my Scylla, claiming it is likely the trials will have magic binding properties.
For fuck’s sake, anything else?
My body starts to tire, and Nick takes advantage of that by leveling me out. I fall on my back with an unladylike grunt and shout a string of expletives. Nick’s body is supine, flush against my own, pinning my wrists above my head.
“Hm. This feels familiar.” His grin is all male arrogance.
“Hm. It does,” I agree. “This is exactly the position we were in right before I kicked your ass in combat class.”
His forehead dips towards my chest as he laughs. “Touché.” Nick releases my wrists, much to my dismay, and stands, offering a hand to help me up. I wave it off and dust off my body as I rise to meet him.
“She is doing much better,” he says, glancing over my shoulder to where Belial and Isadora train across the arena.
I whirl, my eyes widening as I watch a much improved Isadora wield the sword against Belial.
He doesn’t go easy on her either, something I decide softens my prejudice against him.
Isadora is still far from an adept fighter, but she is finally looking like she can hold her own, and the tightness that has been sitting in my chest slightly dissipates.
“Do you want to continue training?” Nick asks from behind me. He stands so close, I feel the warmth of his breath on the back of my neck. Shivers trickle down my spine despite the heat.
I glance toward my left, the suns starting to dip below the horizon. Only a few more hours until The Harrowing. Only a few more hours with him. Hours that may be my last.
“No,” I say, facing him. I rise up on my toes to whisper in his ear. “I want to spend the rest of the night writhing underneath you.”
As soon as the last word leaves my lips, Nick throws me over his shoulder.
I squeal in surprise as the world tilts, and I’m suddenly facing the ground.
He walks briskly towards the exit of the arena, stopping only once to say, “she’s very tired,” before hastily continuing on his way.
I glance up to find the bewildered expressions of Belial and Isadora.
I plaster a sheepish grin on my face and throw them a little wave.
Nick carries me through the palace gardens, through the long corridors, and up two flights of winding stairs.
“I can walk, you know,” I tell him once we make it within the palace walls.
“I know.” Nick slaps my ass, his hand making an obscene sound against the smooth leather, and I yelp. “But it’s faster this way.”
Once we arrive at his room, he kicks the door shut, throws me on top of his bed, and immediately tears off my clothes.
“Wait.” I gasp as the cooler air from the open balcony settles over my now-naked body.
Nick removes his shirt then impatiently arches a brow.
“I am filthy.” I gesture to the dirt and grime still clinging to my skin, not to mention how unimaginably sweaty I am.
His lips curve wickedly. “Just how I like you.”
Nick smothers another of my protests with his mouth, pressing his firm body against mine.
Worried thoughts of how I should bathe before we become intimate disappear the moment his pants do, and I feel him hard and ready against my stomach.
Nick reaches down to fist himself, swiping his cock down my slick folds.
He groans into my mouth, swallowing my moan as he buries himself inside me with one hard thrust.
The evening plays out exactly like that: our bodies coming together again and again.
We stop once to eat, and even when we make it to the bathing chamber, his hands slide under my thighs to pull me on top of him, and we join together again.
Finally, as we lie spent beneath his sheets, my head resting on his chest and his strong arms wrapped around me, a small sprout of happiness blooms, washing away the trepidation and fear of what is to come.
When my eyes drift closed, my last conscious thoughts are of him, of the peace I find within his embrace.
I’m grateful for this last night with him, because when I awake, chaos erupts all around me.