3. Knee-Deep in Deceit #3
He chuckled. “If thou wanted to, thou already would have, Knight.” He said my title like it was a joke.
The world went up in flames. I lunged forward, going chest to chest, shoving him back across the hall with all my strength. “If you harm a single hair on my mom’s head, I will not hesitate. I will end you—Empire scum.”
“No, thou shan’t.” He bared rows of perfect white teeth. “Have thou not heard? The wicked live forever.”
The raspy sound that escaped my lips would have made a sarcophagus-bound wraith proud. Cortisol levels spiking, I tensed, ready to fight for all our lives. Sensing the danger from down the hall, Axel pulled Ella behind him, blocking her with his larger body.
“Thou art weak,” Tarantula said with a sadistic glint in his eye, his body bumping against mine. “We shall have to fix that first, partner.”
“You are not my partner. You are my enemy. This is a disgrace, and I will kill you—”
“So dramatic. ’Tis an opportunity for us to—”
“—and if you try to hurt me, I will—”
“I will not!” he roared, magic exploding from his mouth, obscene, like dragon fire. “They have . . . leverage . . . over me.”
“What do they have?” I asked, genuinely curious what his angle was in all of this.
His expression froze over, eyes dead. Leisurely he crossed his arms, the action carefully designed to look lazy and unthreatening, but his posture was too stiff. Each movement was far too purposeful to be anything but dangerous.
The skin around his eyes that wasn’t covered by the platinum mask was covered in purple veins so dark they were almost onyx. Signs of corruption.
He had a violent, unsettling demeanor.
I waited.
He didn’t speak.
Unwittingly my gaze dipped to the loose gray material that stretched across his striated torso, DANGER embroidered in garish orange across the prisoner garb. I could picture the exact place where my dagger had protruded from his stomach when I’d captured him. I’d left him impaled for weeks.
When I looked back up, the temperature in the air plummeted.
“Oh, I cannot wait to instruct thee, Zora,” he said with a cryptic pause, the scent of magic intensifying. “It shall be . . . titillating.”
He was in chains, and I was free. I wanted to escape him, but I wanted to destroy the Draconis Empire more. I will complete my quest.
“How magnanimous of you,” I said slowly, gathering my courage. “But you’ll want to be careful. You know, with your . . . unbecoming situation.” I tapped my neck, then my wrists, baring my teeth like a fanged dire fox.
“A sexy situation,” Squire sang (not helpful).
Silver-laced wind gusted directly at me, making my eyes water.
Tarantula’s teeth ground together, neck tendons straining as his eyes rolled back in his head, the whites flickering like he was seconds away from losing all control. In the next blink, his features smoothed over—borderline serene—and the biting magic disappeared.
“Above all, I have allegiance only to myself,” he said calmly, his accent changing into something palatable and less depraved. “The divine Emperor has abandoned me in this . . . wasteland named Westmere.”
I couldn’t meet his eyes. Instead, I stared at the wall beside his lying head. “Aleksander is just a pathetic little boy masquerading as a man. You have misspoken. We both know Aleksander is not anywhere near divine. He’s just a coward who wants to enslave us all.”
“Pathetic little boy,” Squire crooned.
I laughed without humor.
Tarantula chuckled back.
I laughed louder.
He chuckled harder.
“Uh—are you okay?” Axel asked as he moved closer, waving a hand in front of my face. No. I realized how we looked to outsiders, me and Tarantula faking mirth, nearly manic with rage. Ella stood beside her brother, eyes wide with confusion.
“I’m fine.” My voice cracked.
Axel didn’t look convinced, and he raised the back of his hand to my forehead as if checking for a fever. I pushed him away, but he was persistent, pressing his fingers to my neck as if searching for a pulse.
Silver darkened to black as magic smoked off Tarantula, and behind him, posters were ripped off the walls by gusts of fierce wind. He pointed a finger at Axel and unleashed his storm magic.
Axel’s hand fell away from my neck, his face turning an unnatural shade of blue as his eyes bugged from their sockets. His auburn hair whipped violently around his head as he clutched at his throat, collapsing to the floor.
“Look away, dear,” I said, and Squire swiveled his head.
Rule of survival: Revolt against royals.
I lunged, throwing a fist at Tarantula. He took the punch to the face with a smirk, chains stopping him from retaliating. A strange shudder rolled through him.
Axel choked loudly on the ground. Ella shouted and formed a Shield in front of him. It wasn’t happening fast enough. Blood dripped from Axel’s bulging eyes as vessels ruptured.
I threw another punch. Harder. Just like he’d ordered the other day. My fist cracked against Tarantula’s cheek, but his mirthful expression didn’t change. Instead, he slowly wet his crimson lips, eyes hooded.
Changing tactics, I aimed low, slamming my knuckles against his old dagger wound. This time he froze. The strange light left his eyes. They went flat as he stared down at where I’d touched him.
Ella shouted, and Squire screeched in solidarity.
I aimed again for the wound. He shifted and spun, pinning me hard against the wall with his larger body. His hips pressed against mine, and magic poured off his torso, gusts of wind battering my face. His strange, dangerous smell had a heady note of black cherry.
The sweat dripping down my spine began to freeze.
Tarantula’s nostrils flared wide where they peeked out from beneath his mask, like he’d scented prey. A flush crawled up his neck, covering his jaw.
“So improper,” he muttered, but he leaned closer, teeth bared. I shifted, punching at his old stab wound with my limited mobility. He moved with deadly precision, hips flexing, pinning me harder.
SIZZLE.
Electricity exploded from his collar, and cobalt veins protruded from his neck. Long seconds passed. Then he fell onto one knee before me. Voltage prickled across my skin, barely noticeable compared to how his body had felt against mine.
The Mist gathered at our feet.