Page 111 of This Dark Descent
Gren had seen Atara’s true form. He knew she wasn’t a normal horse.
And he was going to tell Rezek.
CHAPTER 41
MIKIRA
NO NO NOno no no no.
The word beat through her with every strike of Atara’s hooves. If Gren told Rezek what he’d seen, their deal would be void. Ari’s life would be forfeit, her Kinnish magic exposed.
She had to catch him. She could bribe him. Threaten him. Whatever it took.
Suddenly they were beside Iri and Atara snapped at his throat, gouging a chunk of flesh. The horse screamed, and Atara struck again, tearing deeper. He buckled, hitting the ground hard and sending Gren tumbling.
“No!” Mikira shrieked. Reining Atara in, she leapt off her back, rushing to Iri. The horse thrashed as blood leaked into the muddy ground. He kicked and writhed, his fearful heart pumping blood from his neck.
“Iri, please, you have to stop. Iri!” she screamed.
He kicked again, then lay still.
Mikira dropped to her knees beside him, clasping her hands against the wound. “Please no. No no no. Iri!” But no matter how hard she pressed, she could not feel the beat of the stallion’s heart. He was gone.
Atara whinnied. Mikira staggered to her feet, spinning to find the mare dancing away from Gren. His lip was split and bloody, his face a patchwork of scratches and dirt. And in his hands, he held her knives.
Too stunned from Iri’s death, Mikira could barely process what that meant. That this whole thing had been orchestrated against her again.
“What is this demon beast?” he yelled across the roaring wind.
“It’s not what you think,” she said. “The mirrors, they lie.”
Gren laughed, advancing toward her. “Rezek told me about the mirrors, little Rusel. I’ve heard stories of Kinnish creatures made of clay. Did Damien’s new pet make this beast for you?”
She shook her head, stepping back. Her boot fell in a puddle of Iri’s blood, squelching as it melded with the mud beneath.
“I can pay you,” she said. “I can give you whatever you want. You can work for House Adair when this is over. Damien will treat you better than Rezek ever—” She stopped when Gren smiled. He didn’t care what she had to say. All he cared about was that she lost.
“Not that it matters,” he said. “You won’t be making it out of here anyway.”
He lunged for her, and she leapt aside, stumbling over Iri’s outstretched legs. A sharp cry was all the warning Gren had before Atara nearly ran him over.
“Not this time, you bloody beast.” Gren yanked a long rope with weights on either end from his belt. As Atara came for him again, he swung the rope at her forelegs. It tangled around them, sending her crashing to the ground with a horrible thud.
“Atara!” Mikira scrambled for her, but the mud pulled at her boots. Gren’s knife sliced across her forearm, and she hit the wet earth hard.
Gren struck down. She caught his arm, her wrist screaming with the effort. He grinned at her shaking strength. “I’m going to treasure these blades,” he hissed. “I’ll show them to your father and tell him how you died screaming.”
Her hand slipped, sliding blood along the length of the blade as it drove through her shoulder. She cried out, and Gren ripped free the blade, aiming to stab her again. She seized his wrist, desperate to push him back, but there was no resistance.
Gren was staring at the blade in confused awe. The stone in the handle had begun to glow a pale, smoky red. He tried to push it down, but it wouldn’t budge. It hung in midair as though it had struck a wall, pinned between their hands.
Then, slowly, it shifted direction.
Falling back, Gren released the knife to Mikira’s hold, but she had no control. It pulled her forward, the point aimed for his heart. She grabbed it with both hands even as her arm shrieked at her, but she couldn’t stop its slow crawl, no matter how hard she pulled.
Gren scrambled back, and as if sensing its prey escaping, the knife leapt from her grasp and buried itself in his chest.
Gren stilled, his head falling limply to the side.
