XXIX | THE SETTING MOON
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He stumbled back, hand curling into a fist. But he winced and didn't move to attack.
"The deal is off, " said Celvene with vindictive pleasure.
Rupturing a spell didn't just hurt the person it had been cast on.
It harmed the soul of the caster, too, and judging by what she now knew was Zelphar's pained howl, she'd gotten him good.
Celvene's heart pounded, twisted, but she kept herself upright even as the world swayed around her.
She panted, keeping her eyes trained on Zelphar, who had fallen to one knee.
His pain was far more unbearable than hers, being the caster; she was surprised he was still conscious, though he was a god.
To most people, what Celvene just did would be considered idiotic and reckless. Celvene thought the same, but with Melantha's life on the line, she knew she couldn't trust Zelphar and his kingdom of false fantasies to tell her the truth of whether Melantha would live or die.
"The king of Noriya," she said, breathless, "on his knees for a peasant girl from Aizasea. Why were you the one to fall?"
Before she received a response, the guard who'd stayed at her back rushed her.
Her hands were alight with a smoky green magic—poison magic.
Judging by the mage's lack of identifying features, she wasn't a demigod, which meant she had runespowder.
If Celvene could somehow nab her stash, she could turn the tide of the battle.
The woman shot a spout of poison towards her, manifesting as a sticky stream of liquid.
Celvene ducked before rushing at the woman.
She knew most mages didn't bother to learn how to physically fight, and if they did, it was basic defense at best. While Celvene wasn't the best fighter herself, she was going to do her damn best to not fall.
Not here, not now.
The woman had hurriedly drawn another rune with one hand, the poison still lingering in her other hand. When Celvene reached her, she attempted to fire another shot, but Celvene grabbed her hand and yanked it down.
She hissed in pain as some of the poison droplets landed on her shoulder, searing into her skin, but she was successful where it mattered: the tiled floor was now coated in poison, crowding the woman's feet.
A sharp sizzling pierced the air, and a low, blubbering wail slowly emerged from the woman, rising to a feral screech in no time.
The woman yanked Celvene towards her, and her feet grazed the edge of the poison. Pain bit at her skin, but she ignored it as best she could, inhaling through her teeth.
The woman's pouch of runespower was looped around her belt, easily accessible to the guard and now Celvene. Capitalizing on the woman's confused motions, Celvene ripped the bag off, keeping hold of the woman's hand as her skin continued to burn.
She then yanked the guard towards her, slamming the palm of her hand into the woman's temple and throwing her to the floor, careful to avoid the puddle of poison.
The woman's rune hung in the air, unfinished, though it had begun to thrum with its sickly green glow.
Celvene's heart pounded in her chest, desperately trying to remember Khamisi's lessons as best she could.
The other guards around her hesitated, likely scared of the woman's rune backfiring more than it had.
Celvene learned the hard way that unsuccessful magic tended to be explosive, when an ice rune she'd drawn blew up into a flurry of flames.
And while both the ruptured corruption rune and lacking poison rune hadn't shown any signs of being a danger yet, the guards still stayed back, weapons drawn with no intention to use them.
"What are you doing?" Zelphar yelled, still struggling on the ground. His eyes glowed a deep red as he tried to stand. "Attack her!"
A rabid growl directed Celvene's attention to Zelphar, who'd fallen back down and planted one hand on his knee, the other hand on the tiles lining the floor. He grimaced, and a red spark licked around his hulking form. He leveled a glower at Celvene, who met his gaze with a scowl of her own.
"Cheating street rat," he said, his voice pained. His eyes were dark, crazed, glinted with streaks of muddled black through the glow. His breathing, much like Celvene's, was ragged and short, like a diseased animal. He leaned forward on one knee, hands gripping the soft fabric of his pants.
But beneath the surface, she could sense a sick sense of gratification—he knew something she didn't.
Celvene looked at Melantha. She was fine. Though her eyes were wide, scared, and a deep, flustered flush had crawled its way across her skin, she was unharmed. Her hands shook, though.
Celvene blinked, and Melantha had bucked one of her legs back. The guard holding the glowing sword dropped it with a groan. Melantha wasted no time. As the sword fell, Melantha tipped herself backwards, allowing her binds to slide against the sharp blade.
Celvene took a few steps forward to help her. But before she could, the guards had rushed the soldier. Melantha's ropes had fallen to the tile, allowing her to grab the sword and leap to her feet.
"Couldn't have waited any longer, could you?
" Celvene said, confident in constructing a rune with Melantha at her back.
The guards tensed, and when Celvene drew her rune, they rushed forward.
Celvene paused, but when Melantha jumped in front of her, she resumed her rune, making sure to work hastily.
"You're one to talk," Melantha replied, springing forward. Celvene recognized the fierce determination guiding her feet.
Celvene didn't dare rip her eyes off the approaching guards, though she could see one of them stumble and fall as Melantha swiped her sword at their knees.
She didn't know how they were going to get out of this, but Zelphar was still immobile on the floor, and the guards weren't putting up much of a fight.
They had a chance—she just hoped they wouldn't have to jump out of the stained glass window behind the throne.
Thankfully, the guards had a lot of space to cover because of how far back they'd hung, and Celvene had more than enough time to construct a working rune.
The ice magic sizzled at her fingertips, frigid and pale, and she pushed her hand out.
A shot of frost soared through the air, and Celvene clenched her fist as it approached Melantha.
She guided the flurry away from the soldier, pushing it into the floor, then up.
The soldiers who'd made it past Melantha were helpless as the floor was coated with a thin sheen of ice, some of which crawled up their shoes and rooted them to the tile. Celvene clenched her fists, and the ice shot up, covering the guards' weapons as well.
She thought she had included Zelphar in the freeze, but as the pressure eased up in her chest, it was obvious Zelphar's had as well as he straightened his back and breathed out.
His glare pierced through Celvene, and the ice around him crackled—she had gotten him, but he'd cast a spell at the same time.
A fire spell, by the looks of it. A small puddle of water surrounded his hunched body, curls of smoke rising into the air.
"Time for me to retrain my guard, I suppose. That was a pitiful performance against two young girls. But you," he said, voice low, eyes dangerous. "You are nothing but a mortal. A foolish mortal. So I ask you: did you think you would succeed?"
"No. But I'd rather die on my own terms than have a man who thinks he can control my fate try to manipulate me."
Zelphar chuckled, though it was flat. "I prefer to call it persuasion.
Manipulation is so... crass, is it not? You called me a king, and a king controls his subjects.
But there is no better instrument to influence mortals and their weak minds than lies.
You all live by beliefs. Flimsy and bendable.
Beliefs can be controlled, manipulated, if you will, and that's what I've done to those who stand in my way. "
Celvene glanced at the nearby guards. Their weapons were useless while they were trapped, and all they could do was stare at Zelphar. She then looked back at the king. "And your guards have no issue with this?"
"They don't have a choice."
Celvene's eyes drifted to Melantha, who hadn't stepped onto the ice just yet. Her white hair was tousled, freed of its ponytail, and blood was smeared across her face. Celvene hoped it wasn't hers.
"The wraith lies still, awaiting its dinner," Zelphar continued, and Celvene anchored her attention on him once again.
Now, a cruel, twisted smirk decorated his darkened face.
"It refuses to let its prey see it for what it truly is: a predator.
Its beauty lends it a certain charm, and it uses that to trick those around it into submission.
It feigns innocence, luring its prey to a bloody fate. "
"Such pretty words, Zelphar. What do they mean?"
"Your king, mortal. Virion. Melantha slayed him."
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