Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Still, she had plenty, and she attempted to use it.
“Do you want me to wither her magic?” Daisy asked as Tarian’s sword elongated into a staff.
He chuckled darkly. “Her magic is nothing to me now. An annoyance. I’ll keep it at bay.”
The Fallen continued to fight with vigor. Tarian walked right through the center of them, his staff whirling, the light spinning. The princess flung out her hands. Shadowy magic curdled the air between them and met his gorgeous resistance of dawn. The new day would bleed away all the night’s power.
He was on her, thrusting with his staff. She snatched a blade from a sheath at her hip and countered. He twirled and struck, cutting off a necklace, then a beaded, decorative broach. She parried, blocked, stepped back. He was everywhere at once, striking at her, putting her on the defense. Always advancing. It wasn’t until they were in her bedchambers, Daisy running to stay close, that Tarian’s sword work intensified.
“You always wanted me in here,” he told the princess, too fast for her. Stripping away her layers of wealth one strike at a time. He was like a vengeful god, mighty and masterful, beautiful to watch. “You always wanted me bared and at your disposal. I told you that someday I would have my vengeance. Well, you can thank a human female for allowing my claims to come true.”
He slashed, opening a streak of red across her stomach. Again, down the middle. Insides fell outside and streamed down. She screamed, trying to protect herself. Trying to gain the upper hand. But he showed how he’d gotten those ten rings on each arm. He proved why he was the best, not just in magic, but in all things.
A limb hit the ground. Another. Then her head followed.
She didn’t die, though. She didn’t stop flailing. The mind was dead—well, detached, really—but the magic forced the body to live on. The reality of that would give Daisy nightmares. Zombies weren’t supposed to be real.
Tarian drove his staff through the princess’s chest and into the floor, skewering her and keeping the body put. Without arms, she’d be hard-pressed to get free.
“Drain her, dove,” he said, watching her with cold, heartless eyes. “End her.”
It would’ve been better if Daisy had some fire starters and a little time, but they’d have to settle for figuratively burning this shit-box to the ground.
She siphoned away the magic, and as she did, the body convulsed wildly. The feet kicked and braced, trying to help the body up. Even now—with no head!—the creature was trying to get at Daisy to save the life Faerie gave it.
In the silence that followed, Tarian breathed heavily, looking down at the corpse. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. Daisy could read the thoughts racing across his face, understand the pain, remembering how he’d suffered by the princess’s hand.
Daisy scooted closer and slipped her arm around him. He pulled her in quickly, hugging her close, not looking away from what used to be the princess.
“It doesn’t erase the…” He didn’t finish. Daisy nodded against his shoulder. “But it does close the book on that chapter of my life. It is the ending I sought.” He kissed her forehead. “I needed you for this. I’ve always needed you for this. The gods must’ve known.”
He tilted up her head and kissed her lips softly.
“Now,” he said, “let’s go get the others. And this time, we’ll bring a match. How’s that?”
It didn’t take them long. None of the nobles stood in their way, not wanting to sacrifice themselves for the good of the kingdom. Or maybe they knew this was for the good of the kingdom, and they didn’t want to stand in a Celestial’s way of chopping down the rotten royalty. The innocent servants and slaves who’d had no choice in this life weren’t harmed. They were freed and sent on their way, allowed to take any gold or jewels they could for a fresh start. Apartments and bedchambers were burned. Flames contained to the royal chambers danced in glory.
Strangely, people recognized Tarian for who he used to be—a Celestial prince—but not for the position he’d recently had. It seemed as if getting his old identity back had erased the temporary persona. They bowed or knelt, looking up at him with reverence or fear or both. It was a stark contrast to the mocking snarls the nobility had borne, or the avoidance the servants had employed.
If any of the nobles thought they’d get to go over the fringe, now they knew otherwise. Given other kingdoms were interested, the spies fled upon learning what was happening, evading anyone trying to stop them. It meant the corruption would continue to spread, and the human world was still not safe. Tarian had known that would happen, and if Daisy had had any doubts, they had been laid to rest.