Death shall bow, p.16
Death Shall Bow, page 16
I’d cried over it too many times to count. Soon, I’d be the sole protector of this realm. I’d be the end-all-be-all. And aside from the tentative agreement I shared with Lyvias and Suri’s continued kindness, I’d be entirely alone. While my pain-in-the-ass betrothed had tried to pull me from the emotional pit I’d fallen into, being near him proved harder than I’d expected. Something about his presence—maybe his sarcastic tongue or the way he knew how to push every button with acute accuracy—reminded me of the best friend I’d lost. No, given up on. Abandoned. So I avoided Lyvias’s helpful attempts and everyone else’s for that matter. But eventually, Death’s temper boiled over.
“Open this door immediately,” Cadagon barked, and rapped his fist against the door.
I pulled the blankets off my head—hair snapping with static—and tossed a throw pillow at the door. “Go away.”
“I will do no such thing,” he said. “I have been more than patient with you. Collect yourself and meet me in the gardens. Now.”
“You can’t make me,” I mumbled, and ripped the blankets back over my head. The lock turned over, its click resounding like a fallen gavel, and I popped up. “Hey, you can’t just come in here!”
“You mean like you’ve so kindly done to me before? Sneaking into my private quarters and rummaging through things that don’t belong to you?” Cadagon nudged Suri into the room, his attention fixed on her. “Go, work your magic. I need the princess both presentable and active-ready in an hour.”
“Yes, sir.” She bowed as Death descended the tower steps.
I groaned, fanned out on the bed, and met Suri’s gaze. “Active-ready? What does that even mean?”
“It means,” Suri said with a wide smile, and revealed a hidden gift from behind her back, “you get to wear this, bitch.”
Clutched in her hands hung an outfit fit for a goddess: leather from sleeves to ankles, adorned in chain mesh and pointed studs; it was fierce in every possible sense. A sight so glorious, I sat up. “It’s...”
“It’s?”
“So...”
Suri’s shoulders sank. “You hate it...”
“Are you kidding? It’s freaking gorgeous!”
“But?” Worry glittered behind her fuchsia eyes.
“But nothing, really, I love it. I just—I’d have to get out of bed to wear it.” I whined and flopped back into my pillow fortress.
“Alright, come on, time to get up.” Suri tore the poofy sheets off me and sat at the foot of the bed. “Look,” she sighed, “I’m sorry about, well, whatever it is that happened. From the looks of it, it was serious.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I muttered into the mattress.
“You don’t have to. Just…I’m here for you, okay? And while I don’t have much to go off of, what I do know is a part of you wants to get out of this bed.”
“Ha, not a chance.”
“It’s true. See, if you get up, you get to go to the training grounds.”
I peeked over my blanket. “And why would I want to do that?”
A smile yanked at Suri’s cheeks. “Because you start your reaper training today. You’ll learn how to wield a weapon.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“Fine then.” Suri pursed her lips and hopped to her feet. “I’m sure the opportunity to swing a blade at Death’s head comes around oh...every century or so? You’ll show him next time, right?”
I jerked to sit. “What?”
“Death.” Suri shrugged. “He’d have been your sparring partner today. But if you aren’t interested in getting out of bed, well...”
I hopped up. “Game changer. Let’s do this!”
Cadagon awaited me at the parted oaks to the training grounds, a cocky grin splayed across his face. “I assume Suri filled you in on your sparring partner today then?”
“You’re damn right, she did.” I sauntered past him and out onto the evergreen field with a pointed stare. “Get ready to hurt.”
Cadagon matched my steps. “Funny, I was prepared to warn you of the same thing.”
After a few stretches and a quick jog around the perimeter, we made our way to the weapons rack across the grass. The same rack where I had first met Lyvias. A laugh slipped through me, recalling the nearly rabid look in his eyes when I’d ordered him to bow. Compared to where we stood now, the memory seemed almost untrue. Though Lyvias seemed dedicated to our mutual cause, there was always the potential for him to turn on me after ensuring Death’s demise. But that was a bridge for future Kim to cross. For now, I’d watch him. Closely. Even more reason to train, so I could protect myself should the tables turn.
Cadagon clapped, an eagerness about him. “Alright, the first step is choosing your weapon. Seeing as you’re a woman, I would recommend you stay away from the axe and mace—”
“Why, because girls can’t handle themselves like men do?” I scoffed. “Sexist much?”
“No—”
“Well, I choose the mace, so there.” I pried the weapon from its slot, and it slammed to the ground next to me. Shit, that was heavy…
He raised a brow. “The mace, really?”
“Yes, the mace. Deal with it.”
“Alright.” Cadagon shook his head and settled into a low stance. “Take a swing then.”
“A swing…”
“Yes. Take up your mace and hit me. I will give you this strike, free of retaliation.” Laughter danced behind the Reigning Reaper’s eyes.
I strained, lifting the hefty metal a good foot off the ground, but seconds later it pelted back into the moist grass at my side. “Okay, I want a re-pick.”
“Ah, so you admit I was right then?” He smirked.
“No. I just want a different one, that’s all.” I shuffled to the rack and studied what options remained: a longsword, bow, and spear. My fingers grazed each, weighing them in my hands, but none felt right. “I don’t want any of these.”
“I figured you might say that.” He rummaged in unseen pockets at his hips and fished out two half-moon shaped blades. “Here, try these.”
I took the curved daggers from Death’s grasp and shifted them about in my hands. They were light, evenly matched in weight, and the sound they made slicing through the wind? Music to my ears. “These are more like it.”
“For the time being, yes,” Cadagon nodded, “but those are my personal weapons. I’ll see that yours are completed in due time, so you can have them in your possession during the crowning ceremony.”
“Why would I need them for that?” I asked, still whirling the blades through the air in a display one might expect from a toddler with a toy airplane. It just felt too damn cool.
“It’s customary. The weapon a Reigning Reaper chooses is a testament to their rule. It bears witness to the reaper’s coronation and so is uniquely imbued with trace amounts of magic transferred in the ceremony.”
I stilled and looked at the daggers, then to Cadagon. If I chose the same weapons as him, would I end up on his path? Fall victim to the power and use it for selfish reasons? Not worth the risk. I handed the blades back, face stern. “I’ll choose something else.”
His gaze pinned me. “I know what you’re thinking, but you have no reason to worry, Princess. The weapons a Reigning Reaper chooses in no way point down a specific path. The weapon will be forged with your own blood and so will react to your will and yours alone. You have no reason to fear that you will end up as another has. As…I have.” Cadagon cleared his throat and snatched a spear from the rack. “Now, spread out. Five feet between us.”
I pushed away my lingering questions, readying myself. The rest of the night-covered afternoon went about as one might expect for a noob. Sure, I knew my way around a combat knife well enough to take down a rouge shifter or vampire in the mortal world. But sparring with Death himself? Entirely different story. I would lunge; Cadagon would dodge—complete with fake yawn—and I’d end up knocked flat on my ass. He’d insist I get up; I’d do so, strike back with purpose and…again be knocked off my damn feet. Death taunted to coax out my wrath no doubt; but no matter what I did, I failed. By the hundredth time hitting the ground, I tapped out.
“Enough,” I wheezed. “I’m done, I’m done.”
Cadagon spun his spear around and released a catty chuckle. “Already? But I was quite enjoying myself.”
He extended a hand to me, and I took it without a second thought. The gesture, small and insignificant as it might seem, didn’t sit well. I hated him, meant to end his vicious reign, and yet I’d sparred with him. Trained with him. And if I were honest, I’d even had a little fun doing so. In the end, I reminded myself it’d been worth it. That I’d gotten first person insight into his fighting style: something I could bring back to Lyvias to prepare us for our attack.
To my unfortunate surprise, Cadagon didn’t set off on his own when we reached the castle stairs. Instead, he followed me clear to the south dining hall. I glared up at him. “Meeting Nasheesh here?”
“No, why would you assume that?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I crossed my arms. “Maybe because you never follow me to the south wing after one of our meetings?”
He shifted side to side, and a strange, almost insecure snicker escaped him. “To be fair, I don’t know that we’ve ever had a meeting go as well as today’s. Do you?”
“Well, no.”
“Precisely. Which is why I thought we might spend some time together—” He stopped short, attention stolen by incoming footsteps.
Lyvias wrapped around the corner and called out, his face buried in a book. “Princess, I was...” He peered up from his page, noticed Cadagon at my side, and his words slowed. “…looking for you.” He tucked the book under his arm. “Where were you?”
“That is not your business,” Death said in a fatherly tone that creeped me the fuck out. No man in my life had the right to use that tone with me. Period.
“We were at the training grounds, and now we aren’t. He was just leaving.” I flashed Cadagon a dismissive glance. “Right?”
“Correct. I have many things that require my attention anyway.” Head held high, he sauntered off.
“The training grounds? Explains the vicious attire. Although I must say, this outfit…” Lyvias’s gaze devoured me. “It does something for me.”
His wink sent heat radiating through my cheeks, and I told my body to behave. But those crimson eyes, the way they lingered a little too long on my breasts…no. We were business partners: assassins on the same mission. I would not fuck him. Though something told me it’d be a wild ride I’d never forget. A hate fuck…hmm. New kink maybe?
No! Stop it! Bad Kim.
When Cadagon drifted out of earshot, expectation crossed Lyvias’s face.
“What?” I asked.
He folded his arms. “Care to explain what that was about?”
“What ‘what’ was about?”
“You and the king?” He batted his eyelashes.
“Nothing.” I brushed him off and started towards the kitchen. Who the hell did this guy think he was, questioning my whereabouts? “He followed me back after training, that’s all.”
He stepped into my path, tapping his foot impatiently.
I looked him over. “What? It’s true.”
“You two seemed…chummy.”
“Chummy?” My nose wrinkled in disgust. “You’re delusional.”
In point-zero seconds, he had me pinned against the nearest beam. Face an inch from mine, he whispered between bared fangs, “You backing out of our arrangement?”
I latched my hand around his throat. A moan rattled through him, reverberating in my palm, and the sound made me damn near feral. After so much emotional bullshit the past few weeks, a good old-fashioned fuck would have been a welcomed distraction. No messy feelings or complicated depth. Just him on his knees, wearing nothing but a rope around his wrists. Gods, the things I’d do to him…
I shoved his head back. “Haven’t you learned not to threaten me by now, or do I need to teach you a lesson in manners?”
Darkness spilled across his face as his sights dropped to my lips. He pushed closer, my stomach jumping as his warm breath grazed my cheeks. “You can teach me a lesson any day, so long as you don’t fuck me over. Fuck me, sure, but if you back out of our deal—”
“I wouldn’t touch you if you begged,” I snarled, and pushed him back, releasing my hold.
His pointed gaze carried down my body, settling between my legs. “That’s funny, because I can hear your heartbeat, and it tells me otherwise.”
“Enough! My stance hasn’t changed, and you’re not getting in my pants, so tell me why you were looking for me.”
“If you say so, Princess,” he said under his lashes. “Suri told me you’d gotten up today. I wanted to check on you if you must know.”
His expression made my lungs seize. It was the exact way Cooper used to look when he’d decided to lay claim to someone. To make them his plaything. Or worse, his partner. I dropped my eyes to my feet. “I’m fine.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.” I swallowed hard. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go change out of this damn thing. Believe it or not, leather doesn’t breathe well when you’re slinging a blade around for hours.”
“If you need help removing it, I could be of assistance—”
“Fuck off,” I said, and pushed past him, waving a hand dismissively.
“Kim…”
The sound of my nickname on his tongue stopped me in my tracks.
“For what it’s worth,” he continued, “I’m sorry. For whatever happened. Your girl, is she…”
My hands clenched as I turned to him. “Gone? Yes. But she’s where she belongs and so am I. It’s stupid really, me allowing it to have so much control over me. But I’ve got a handle on it now; I won’t let it affect our mission.”
“Loving someone is never stupid,” he said, sincerity in his stare, “and the duration of love does not dictate its depth.”
Love. While I hadn’t admitted it to myself, I’d always known that’s what had been between June and me. That deep longing. It’s why I’d had to fight the urge to follow her through that door to Elysium. To keep her with me always. Or had it all just been a cruel act of Fate? Whatever the reason, sharing more than what was absolutely necessary with Lyvias was dangerous. A liability. I wouldn’t show my weakness. Not to him. I turned to leave.
“Wait.” He stepped closer, popping open the book he’d stowed at his side, and turned to a dog-eared page. “There’s something I wanted to show you. I found this in the grand study. I went to pull a book from the shelf above, and this fell out.” He rubbed his neck. “I know it sounds weird, but I don’t think it was a coincidence.”
“What, you think a ghost hand-delivered it to you?”
“You’re hilarious,” he teased, monotone. “Anyway, I found something I think would interest you. It’s about the shifters.” He spun the book around and extended it, finger pointing halfway down the right-hand page. “The rest is pretty cryptic, but I think this might be important.”
I scanned the page:
Two shifting houses, one born of talon, the other bane of blood, deceived. One to blame, the other to pay. Beware the void-talker.
“What do you think it means?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. I didn’t get a chance to read further. Nasheesh has been up my ass all day for some reason. Seems he doesn’t know what to do when he isn’t at Death’s beck and call.” He handed the book to me. “You keep it, and let me know what you find? I’ve got some business I need to attend to.”
I squinted up at him. “What kind of business?”
“Nothing to concern yourself with. See what you can dig up, and I’ll touch base with you soon.”
With that, he drifted from the room, and I turned the tome in my hand over. A journal, it looked like. Interesting.
After a much-needed trip to the bath, a long and consuming nap, and a change of clothes, I snagged the journal and headed to the back most gardens. I read the halls around each turn to assure my late night excursion remained undetected. Anathema’s glorious night lured me through the rose-covered gates, and I tucked myself beneath a blooming sickle tree just outside my view of the castle windows. If I couldn’t see them, nobody could see me. Perfect.
The handwritten notebook belonged to one Barges Frain, a shifter fifteen years my senior. It seemed he had a fondness for conspiracy theories. His hyperfixation? The pureblood shapeshifter families. The Bloodbanes and the Talonborns. Lyvias wasn’t kidding; him finding this couldn’t be a coincidence; it was too pointed. I took a final glance around before diving in.
Barges went on to explain that the Bloodbanes and Talonborns were the strongest pureblood lines. They possessed unique abilities. While most shifters took the shape of one animal their entire lives, the purebloods could steal another person’s identity, endless people’s if they wanted to. They could transform into mythical beasts from ancient lore. Horrible creatures. The Bloodbanes celebrated their strength, lorded it over the shifters they deemed lesser. In one run-in with the eldest Bloodbane brother, Barges described it as “all the oxygen being sucked out of a room.” I shivered and turned the page.
The Talonborns proved the exact opposite. Caring for their people, they sought an audience with Cadagon the moment shifters started going missing in the Evermoor Woods. They wanted the incident investigated, and in exchange offered a spy to infiltrate the Bloodbanes’ inner circle. While Barges couldn’t know for sure if Cadagon struck the deal, I did. The shadows tickling under my skin assured me so.
Death: always ready to sacrifice others to save his own skin.
For years, Barges had researched. Studied. Crossed countless theories off his list. Come the last chunk of his journal, he’d landed on his magnum opus. Before the massacre, rumors spread of the Bloodbanes forming an alliance with a cult stemming from the demon and vampire courts. He believed that the rumors were not only true, but that the Bloodbanes were sacrificing the missing shifters in the Evermoor Woods…to create a hybrid. One strong enough to change the royal bloodline. Absorb it somehow. My mouth went dry.
