The Throne of Broken Bones (Weapon of Fire and Ash Book 3)

by Brittany Matsen

  Wild excitement danced through her, and she smiled. Leading the charge, in a chariot pulled by massive bony creatures that resembled horses with skeletal wings tucked into their sides, was the sleek, leather-clad Prince Levian. The beasts bared their pointed teeth and snarled. Their empty eyes, as white as the snow, were locked on her. Beneath their hooves, tongues of flame sizzled in the snow, licking up their black legs. They trotted on, unaffected.

  Thousands of Shediem stormed behind the prince and his dramatic war chariot. His dark, slicked-back hair and sneer were illuminated by the fire dancing in front of him.

  “BY THE ANGELS’ BLOOD WE WERE MADE,” a booming voice echoed over the beating of marching footfalls.

  “TO SERVE AND PROTECT AS IT WAS DECREED!”

  The Giborim’s war cry made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

  Utter chaos ensued, but Emma’s thirst for Shediem power had her charging forward as well, her eyes fixed on the prince.

  The winged beasts pulling the chariot kicked up into a canter, huffing and snarling. Steam curled around their bodies from the live flames. But Emma was a creature of fire too.

  Slightly changing direction, she ran parallel to the prince. Once she spotted her opening, she took it, lunging through the air.

  Hands reached for the anticipated surge of power that didn’t come.

  She hit an invisible barrier with a crash that sent her shooting backward. Her body barked in pain when she landed on her back in the snow, staring up at the dark night.

  It took several moments before she could draw in breath again. But when she did, Emma’s gaze zeroed in on the dark, cloaked figure that marched behind the chariot.

  A Spellcaster.

  Leaping to her feet, she took off at a run. Not toward the prince whose back was turned, his sword slicing through the arm of a Giborim who misjudged their own swing, but toward the Spellcaster who conjured a shield around Levian.

  Emma pulled out the dagger from her thigh holster automatically. It wasn’t until she drove the blade into the Spellcaster’s chest and their hood fell back—revealing a slender, feminine face with dark eyes—that Emma registered what she’d just done.

  She’d murdered a human.

  Not a monster. Not a demon. A person.

  Her face contorted with agony. Warm liquid pooled around the dagger’s hilt, coating her hand. It bubbled up between the girl’s thin, parted lips.

  “I’m sorry,” Emma gasped.“I’m so sorry.”

  The Spellcaster fell back, and Emma caught her before she hit the snow. The girl appeared to be around her age, and from the way confusion marred the girl’s brow, Emma didn’t think she spoke English.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Her words poured out on repeat. With a sickening crack and gurgle, Emma wrenched the blade from the Spellcaster’s sternum. Then her hands went to the wound, trying to staunch the blood flow. But there was too much.

  The girl’s face took on a greyish hue even in the small amount of light. Then her eyes flicked to the sky, where they stayed.

  Unseeing.

  A sob bubbled up Emma’s throat.

  Arms hauled her to her feet. “Leave her,” Taryn hissed. “There’s nothing you can do now.”

  She pushed Emma away and she stumbled, the chaos of the fight coming back to full volume.

  The prince circled around, grinning at Emma’s tear-streaked face.

  This was his fault.

  All of the Shediem race’s fault.

  She’d killed because she’d seen no other option.

  The blood on her hands was more than just the Spellcaster lying dead in the snow. It was the hybrid children she’d burned. It was every Giborim that died or would die because of this war.

  She wiped her sticky hands on her jeans, thankful for the black material. After cleansing the dagger in the snow, she straightened, eyes narrowing.

  Emma let out a snarl and took off at a run, dodging weapons and Shediem alike. Animals fought too—familiars, she thought. Some flew in the air; others crashed into each other in the snow, clawing and biting.

  It was a brutal bloodbath.

  Levian’s grin faltered. His hands lifted at his sides, palms raised, but nothing happened.

  The prince’s realization struck only moments before she leapt up, barreling into his carriage.

  She knocked into him with the force of a raging bull, her hands tearing at his face and neck, drawing blood.

  His power soared through her. A scream of retribution scorched her throat.

  Haunting and heady, his dark energy was a tornado. It tore apart her insides and forged them anew.

  She was remade in the darkness.

  Yes, more, her inner beast demanded.

  The prince’s body crumbled, his blood still wet on her fingers as his ashes scattered.

  Behind her eyes, it felt like thousands of needles pricked and stabbed. She winced at the pain, covering her eyes while they fought to adjust.

  The new addition to her power begged to be used. And as the chariot rocked over mounds of packed snow—or perhaps bodies, she wasn’t interested in finding out which—she focused on the massive, bulky beasts still pulling the chariot around the battlefield.

  Sleep, she willed.

  Their hoofbeats slowed, their muscular bodies seeming lethargic. They stopped, and at once, lay down.

  Emma jumped out of the carriage and moved to stand in front of them. Without another thought, she laid a hand on their foreheads one by one.

  Their deaths were quick, and their energy fueled her.

  Looking around at the feast of Shediem, she smiled.

  By the time I’m done, my power will never again fade. I am a goddess of darkness and death, reaping the wicked as I see fit.

  No one will stand in my way.

  44

  Adrianna

  T he Shediem outside the tent chanted, calling for death. Adrianna burrowed deeper into the thin blankets, trying desperately to get warm. Athena curled up against her

  stomach, the size of a medium-sized dog. Her small spikes poked Adrianna in the belly, but she didn’t mind. Her familiar was warm and comforting.

  Sensing Adrianna’s unrest, Athena lifted her beautiful violet head. The creature’s magnificent eyes searched hers before she nuzzled Adrianna’s cheek.

  “People are going to die, Athena,” she said sadly. “Innocent people. The people we should be fighting with, not against.”

  Tlahaz chose that exact moment to tear into the tent, his body armor glinting.“Still abed, Witch?”

  Adrianna ignored him, pulling up the cover over her and Athena completely. The wyvern huffed a puff of smoke in indignation. “If he can’t see us, maybe he’ll go away,” she told her familiar.

  “Not going to happen, Witch. Get up.” To punctuate his words, he ripped the blanket off, and she squealed.

  Athena whipped her head around and blew a gust of hot steam in his direction. Tlahaz waved it away, his lip curling.

  “What have I told you about feeding the beast fish? Its breath reeks for weeks after.”

  Adrianna stuck her tongue out.“You told me I’m not allowed to feed her any of the Shediem out there”—she pointed outside the tent—“so I gave her what we had.”

  Tlahaz’s golden eyes swirled with a hint of amusement. “I also said to keep the creature off the bed. It tears the sheets.” He turned, heading for the armor hanging in the corner. The attire she was meant to wear.

  Adrianna snorted as she sat upright. “You tear the sheets more than she does.”

  He flashed her a rare grin over his shoulder before laying the armor at the foot of the bed.“Get dressed,” he instructed.

  She folded her arms across her chest, feeling particularly unruly.“I don’t want to wear that.”

  He leaned onto the bed, resting his weight on his fists. “If you don’t put it on yourself, I will do it for you. Would you like that, Witch?”

  She sniffed.“I don’t see why I ha
ve to wear that in particular. I’m a Spellcaster; can’t I just use my magic to protect myself? I’ll be in the air anyway.”

  “Other familiars will be in the air, as will the Veemuris.”

  “But they won’t attack me,” she pointed out. Her gaze fell to the sheets that she twisted in her fingers.

  Silence remained like a heavy cloak over them.

  Then Tlahaz spoke.“What is it, Adrianna?”

  She still didn’t look at him when she whispered,“I can’t do this.” She didn’t have to elaborate.

  Tlahaz stood to his full height and inspected her. He didn’t make threats or belittle her. Instead, he walked around to the side of the bed and sat down beside her.

  Taking her hand in his, he brought it to his cheek and kept it there, drawing her gaze up to meet his. “Your spirit is kind and good, Adrianna. I’m not commanding you to kill unless it’s truly necessary. But you know what the prophecy states. It knew which side of the battle you’d stand on. Your job is to stay alive and to fulfill the prophecy.”

  “Doesn’t it bother you?” she asked.“That I’ll bind your king back in Sheol for all eternity?”

  He didn’t answer for several moments. “My duty is to my king,” he said softly, “but it is also to you. For whatever twisted reason, fate has created a bond between us that is unbreakable. I live to help you fulfill your destiny.”

  His lips kissed the faint silvery mark on the column of her throat where he had taken her blood.Where he’d seen the future. Their future.

  She blushed.

  “Don’t kill anyone,” she begged, and he let her hand slip from his face.

  This time he looked down.“I cannot make any promises. It’s war. People will die. There is nothing you or I can do to change that.”

  Adrianna stroked Athena’s back when she started to edge onto Adrianna’s lap. To comfort her.

  Tlahaz reached over and stroked the spot between the familiar’s eyes that made her go boneless. Every time she did it, it made Adrianna laugh.“Traitor,” she admonished her wyvern playfully.

  “Come, Beauty. We need to get you ready before the troops head out.”

  She wrinkled her nose at the raucous jeers and laughter ensuing right outside her tent, but she got to her feet, determined to see this through.

  When she was fully dressed—her hair pulled back in a braid—she observed herself in the mirror, looking every bit the warrior princess she always aspired to be.

  Horns sounded all through the camp, freezing her blood.

  Tlahaz took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to the back of it, before heading out to join the hellish soldiers.

  45

  Blaze

  A

  sharp slap hit his cheek.“Wake up, sleepyhead. I have something fun planned.” Emerelda’s cheery voice brought back the scene he’d spied of her kissing a prince of Sheol, and his blood returned to a boil.

  They’d mentioned killing the Shediem-Slayer. Emma . Blaze’s eyelids—heavy and dry like coarse sandpaper on his eyes—flitted open at that thought.

  Emerelda came into focus. But beside her, with his arms folded over his chest, eyes bloodshot and a cruel smirk twisting his full lips, was Derrik. Blaze sat in a chair, tied with thick rope around his chest, ankles, and wrists—no doubt enchanted rope to keep him from busting through the fibers.

  Blaze shook his head, stopping abruptly when nausea crashed into him like a tidal wave.“Derrik,” he sighed.“You too?”

  The Spellcaster sneered.“Oh don’t be so surprised. There are far more Shediem sympathizers than you realize.”

  His attention returned to Emerelda. “What did Mammon promise you? Riches? Power?”

  She scoffed.

  “You have to know he’ll kill you the second you’re of no use to him.”

  She flipped her golden hair over her shoulder in that vain, flippant manner of hers. “This is not a new alliance, William.” She spat his name, glaring down at him. “Mammon and I met by accident in Tahiti some thirty years ago. I could have killed him, but I didn’t. He didn’t try to kill me either.We were cautious of each other, but the attraction was instant and so intense, we couldn’t deny it.” Emerelda sighed dreamily, and Blaze’s stomach turned. “It was the best night of my life. After that, we kept in contact, mostly through his messengers. But I visited him in Sheol after getting wind of the Shediem-Slayer. I planned to kill her, but you kept her under such a close watch that I couldn’t get close without alerting you.” She barked a laugh.

  “And anyway, Jake might have succeeded if you hadn’t intervened. Then there was your brother.” Still smirking, she added,“I didn’t have to kill her myself; I just had to ensure that everyone hated her. Your uncle especially. It didn’t take much to convince him that she’s too dangerous. Too volatile. Don’t be surprised if the Giborim tear her apart for me. Especially once they see her kill another prince.

  “Levian is here now. He’s useless, really. No love lost there. But with his power added to her arsenal, our people will see her for what she is. A monster.”

  That meant Emma was still alive. He couldn’t hold back the surge of relief he felt.

  It must have shown on his face because Derrik slapped him hard enough to taste blood. Blaze didn’t make a sound.

  “What’s your part in this, Derrik?”

  The Spellcaster’s chest puffed with pride.“I worked the magic needed to get through the wards and helped pin everything on your brother.”

  Blaze’s jaw clenched.“What’s in it for you? Surely you’re not Mammon’s lover too?”

  Derrik hit him again, this time with his fist. The punch connected with his nose, and a slight crunching sound made Blaze’s teeth grind together.

  “What’s in it for me is a world free from judgment and condemnation. You Giborim sit on your pedestals thinking it’s your job to police every little thing we do.” Derrik bent close, his rancid breath making Blaze gag.“News flash: you’re nothing.”

  When Derrik straightened, Blaze wheezed for fresh air. There was something very wrong with the Spellcaster. It wasn’t a lack of personal hygiene that made him smell so foul. No, there was something else at play. Something demonic. Possession maybe? Though he couldn’t sense anything beyond the fact that the tunnel they were situated in was filled with Shediem in cells.

  “Giborim don’t police Spellcasters,” Blaze said at last, cocking his head to the side to look at the two.

  The faint illumination from the sconces on the walls flickered. Derrik glared, the wrath of the Spellcaster filling the chamber with the scent of magic and fury. “Taryn and I have different dads, but we share the same mother. My sister’s two years older than me and pretty much raised me while our mother worked constantly, trying to provide for us. Our coven didn’t like our mom much because she was willing to take whatever jobs came her way. Many of them were from Shediem. One day when she was working a potion for one of her clients, the Giborim burst into our house. They killed her because of who her client was.”

  Derrik’s body visibly shook, his words growing louder and louder, echoing in the tunnel. “They said that she was trash because she deemed to work for the Shediem, and when they were done beating her until she didn’t even look like my mom, they threw her in a dumpster. If they knew she had kids, they didn’t care. They didn’t look for us. Taryn had hidden in a closet with me. The bastards destroyed our home and set it on fire with us still in it.”

  He lifted his T-shirt, revealing thick, gnarled scars on his left side. Turning, he showed that the scars waved over his back.

  Burns. Blaze tasted bile.

  “Taryn got burned too. Worse than this. But she healed her scars. She tried to heal mine, but I wouldn’t let her.” He dropped his shirt, turning to face Blaze again. “I wanted a reminder of who the real enemy is. You.” He punctuated the last word with a hard jab to Blaze’s chest.

  “Look, I am so sorry that happened. I would never order something like that to be done. If we ever go
t word that a Spellcaster was working a particularly nasty spell for a Shediem, we’d seize it, but we never killed anyone.”

  “LIAR!”

  The sound reverberated through the narrow hall, and the beasts slumbering in their cells began to screech and wail at the sound.

  “There were four men that beat my mother to death.You sent one of them. Jakob Bernal was your man. Under your command.”

  Ice sluiced through every inch of Blaze’s body.

  It couldn’t be true. He kept a close eye on his men, and though Jake was a hothead, he wasn’t a murderer. Was he?

  They were friends, but there had been several occasions where Blaze had wondered just how many secrets his comrade carried.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I had no idea that happened. That’s despicable. Unforgiveable. He and anyone else involved will be tried for their crimes, you have my word.”

  “Don’t worry,” Derrik snarled. “I already exacted their justice.”

  Flames leapt to the torches lining the walls, lighting the deeper parts of the tunnel.

  Four figures hung from ropes tied to the ceiling, their bodies limp.

  Horror shot through Blaze. Thanks to his angelic eyesight, he could make out every broken bone. Every bruise and cut.

  Jake’s body was the closest, his skin dull and grey.

  Dead. His friend was dead.

  The other three weren’t facing him, so he couldn’t make out who they were.

  Blaze shook his head, trying to quell the urge to roar in anger.

  “Well, it’s been a blast, Blaze. Now for the fun part.”Emerelda nodded to Derrik, who lifted his hands toward the corridor. The groaning protest of metal locks breaking and cell doors swinging open filled Blaze’s ears, along with the furious beating of his heart.

  More than a dozen Shediem of all shapes and sizes barreled into the tunnel. Some leapt for the swaying bodies overhead until Emerelda clucked her tongue.

  “Leave those. We’ve got a live one for you. Perhaps you’ll recognize him as your jailor.”

  They turned in unison. Snarls and growls rumbled the concrete floor beneath Blaze’s shoes. Emerelda and Derrik headed for the stairs while every beast clawed their way toward him.