Page 131 of Sharpest Court

Erik turned slowly, lazily. I glimpsed the beginnings of a smile before his gaze landed on my stomach. And his expression hardened.

“You’re hurt,” he said flatly.

The breaths whistled through my teeth as I looked him over.

I wasn’t afraid anymore. I despised him, was repulsed by him, but I wasn’t afraid. How could I be, after seeing the force he’d ordered to strike on Banarrat out of spite? After knowing that, amid this carnage, he’d ordered his soldiers to capture Keil while he himself remained out of danger?

Erik had needed to use Perla as leverage against me because he knew he could never stand against a Wielder in combat. It was why he wanted the power of the sword in the first place.

And why I could never let him have it.

“Stand down,” I repeated, fury strengthening my voice. “It’s over.”

“Yes, I can see that.” Sighing, he smoothed a hand over his shirt, now streaked with blood and dirt. “So how would you like me, my love? On my knees before you? Bound in chains for your pleasure?” The words were teasing, as though he were inviting me into another private joke. As though he still somehow believed he had me in his power.

“You’re going to leave with me now,” I said, smothering my own doubt. “And order your troops to stand down.”

A little smile twitched around his mouth. “Is that what you truly want? You seemed to be enjoying the bloodshed a moment ago. Perhaps, instead, you might like to join my soldiers in cutting down the last of these gnats?” He dared a step toward me.

I struck him down as easily as I’d struck Holden, my blood loss adding something wild and violent to the flow of my power. Erik’s knees thwacked upon the wood, and his palms splayed out to catch his fall.

Breathing hard, I curled my power like a noose around his neck.

Then, impossibly, he started laughing. The sound began as a chuckle and then wheezed into something strangled as my specter tightened.

“Oh, Little Thorn,” he breathed, tilting his head up at me. I couldn’t tell if his eyes glistened from humor or pain. “Your fear still blinds you.”

“From seeing what?” I growled, swaying, knowing I couldn’t hold on for much longer. My head was growing fuzzy and the flow of my blood was quickening; if he didn’t yield, I would have to incapacitate him or risk passing out right here on his boat.

Slowly, he lifted a hand to caress the tendril of my power around his neck. A shudder ran along my bones at the touch.

“That which you should have seen all along,” Erik said. “That which you did not want to see.” He looked me squarely in the eyes, a half smile curving his mouth, and said softly, “Me.”

Out of nowhere, a cooler, broader specter slinked against mine, replacing the touch of his hand.

I gasped, jolting back, an unfathomable terror stealing my breath—

Then there was only agony, sharp and splintering, racing through my veins.

Because as the king’s knowing smile blurred out of my vision, that specter tore my own to shreds.

36

Amber light shifted behind my eyelids.

I was numb all over, grounded only by a dull tugging sensation around my stomach. Pull-pinch-pull-pinch.

I jolted and my eyelashes fluttered, the light streaking through.

Cool tendrils of power wrapped gently around my body, but it was the terror that held me still. Because this wasn’t right, this couldn’t be right—

Fingers drifted around my hair. Something pricked my nape.

“You’re safe, my love. Rest.”

His eyes hovered above me, two chips of blue quartz growing smaller until they winked out like stars in the darkness.

The shouting roused me. Violent, angry curses I’d never heard him use before, now taking their sharpest form on his tongue. Then crashing. Confusion.