Talons scowled at Ursula, tapping a long red claw on her silver goblet. Talons’s silver hair tumbled over a violet gown. “Who invited the dog?”
Ursula narrowed her eyes. “The name is Ursula.”
Viking twirled her champagne flute, shooting a sharp look to Talons. “Easy, Budsturga. We’re not supposed to make a scene.”
So that was Talons’s name—Budsturga.
Goth Princess shot her a dark look. “It upsets the balance to have a human in here. And the smell is unbearable.”
Ursula cocked her head. You want to do catty? I know how to do catty. “That’s funny. Your husband Abrax doesn’t think I’m human. Apparently, that’s what he likes about me.”
Princess glared. “He has a perverse fascination with freaks.”
Ursula plucked her glass from the table. “Doesn’t speak well of you, does it?”
Viking slapped the table. “I said, we’re not to make a scene. Honestly, ladies. Who is the real enemy, here?”
Budsturga’s face was incredulous. “What in the heavens are you talking about? The oneiroi?”
Viking leaned in, whispering, “When was the last time you saw a woman fight? Our husbands say we must do as they say because women are weak.” She gazed right at Ursula. “But Ursula is proving them wrong. If they are wrong about Ursula, maybe they’re wrong about all of us.”
Goth Princess crossed her arms, practically pouting. “What makes you hate your husband so much, anyway?”
Viking shrugged. “I hate yours, too. He is a monster. But Hothgar is the one I have to live with. You see this?” She pointed to the purple bruise on her chin. “That was because I lost a bet on the melee.”
Budsturga stabbed her talon into a canapé. “Men are brutal, yes. Best avoided.”
Viking turned to Ursula. “Surely Bael is different. He’s unmarried. But I’m told he does like women. Is it true what they say about him as a lover?”
Ursula cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t know. We train together. That’s it.”
The furrow in Viking’s brow suggested she didn’t believe this. “Of course, ladies of the Shadow Realm would never bed a man before marriage. But I assumed a woman such as yourself...” Her sentence trailed off.
Ursula’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t realize demons had rules about sex before marriage.”
“Not all demons,” said Goth Princess. “Only the nobles of the Shadow Realm.”
Ursula nodded. “And let me guess. It only applies to female nobles.”
“Of course,” said Budsturga.
Viking leaned in close. “It really doesn’t seem fair. We should get to try them out before committing. The first time I kissed Hothgar was at our claiming ceremony. It was a horrific disappointment, but by then it was too late.”
Ursula took a sip of wine, nearly too engrossed in the conversation to notice the waiters bringing bowls of steaming mushroom soup. “What’s a claiming ceremony?”
Viking slurped her soup. “It’s the ceremony when a husband claims his wife. It is the one tradition the warriors of Nyxobas adopted from the oneiroi. And because it comes from the beasts, it’s positively savage.”
Ursula shook her head. “But what is it?”
Budsturga stabbed another crudite with her talons. She’d have a hell of a time eating soup. “When a warrior claims a woman, they exchange rings. Then, the contract is sealed with a public display of lust. Nothing too far, Nyxobas wouldn’t allow that. But the warrior must show sexual domination over his woman.”
“As you can imagine,” the Princess sighed, “Abrax took things a bit far.”
“It’s a marriage ceremony?” asked Ursula.
“More like an engagement,” said Budsturga.
Viking’s cheeks reddened. “Hothgar proposed in Asta’s spire, then forced his tongue down my throat in front of the other lords. He ripped off my top. Frankly, that was the last time he showed any interest in me, and that was over a thousand years ago.”
Goth Princess shrugged. “Men only want what they can’t have.” Her dark eyes slid to Ursula. “The forbidden flesh. And yet you’re telling us Bael has no interest in you?”
Ursula’s cheeks warmed. “Apparently not.”
Viking wiped the soup off her chin, staring at Goth Princess. “Asharoth. Why does your husband hate Bael so much?”
Asharoth—apparently, that was her name—cocked her head. “He is the son of a god. He demands worship. And Bael has never been sufficiently submissive. His role as Sword of Nyxobas always rankled Abrax.”
Viking threw back a long gulp of wine. “Hothgar isn’t even a demigod, and he demands worship. You should see the inside of his temple.”
Ursula ate a spoonful of her soup. This sounds good. “And what would I find in the inside of his temple?”
Viking giggled. “We can’t always get humans here in the Shadow Realm. They simply die so easily. But when we run low on human slaves, Hothgar has his dolls.”
Ursula leaned in over her soup. “What does he do with his dolls?”
Viking held her hand to her face, whispering. “He gets drunk on vodka, and uses his magic to animate them. He has them bend down to worship him, calling him Nyxobas. One or two he declares to be heathens, and he crushes them beneath his feet.”
“And the whole time,” added Budsturga with a wicked smile. “He has his lunar staff out.”
“And I thought my husband was perverse,” said Asharoth.
Ursula’s lip curled. “And you’re not allowed to have any fun with other men while your husbands do whatever they want?”
Asharoth’s jaw dropped. “Of course not.”
Ursula sipped her wine. “You ladies are getting a raw deal.”
Asharoth shrugged. “It’s not all horrible. As soon as a man claims you, you are protected. No man may touch another man’s wife. No one may harm us. And men are forbidden from killing the women they’ve claimed.”
Ursula stared. “That’s it? They can’t kill you? Like I said, you’re getting a raw deal.”
Before anyone could respond, a commotion erupted at the lord’s table.
Bael stood. His dark magic whipped the air around him. “Abrax attacked me in my manor. He crossed my threshold uninvited.”
Hothgar held out his hands, a placating gesture. “I know you’re angry—”
“I’m not angry.” And yet, icy wrath laced his voice. “But I want the fealty to which I am entitled.”
Hothgar waved a dismissive hand. “As I said already, you killed his champion.”
“His champion attacked me like a wild animal. If Abrax hadn’t invaded my house, his champion would still be alive. I’m owed a fealty.”
Hothgar rose. “And as I said, your killing of his champion is fealty enough.”
“I know you two are colluding. A lord’s manor is sacrosanct. A real Sword of Nyxobas would never allow this transgression.”
Abrax leaned back in his chair, studying his nails. “Maybe you should have been more careful and not lost your wings.” His gaze flicked to Bael.
“If you weren’t Nyxobas’s son, I would have slaughtered you months ago,” Bael snarled. He turned, walking from the table and out of the hall.
Abrax’s gaze slid to hers, and Ursula’s stomach turned. Time to get out of here.
Budsturga leaned in to her, whispering, “I think you should follow him.”
Ursula rose, yanking her cloak off the back of the chair. You don’t have to tell me twice.
Chapter 30
Bael waited for her in the carriage, and she ran across the onyx platform. She yanked open the door, clambering inside.
She took her seat across from Bael, trying to catch his eye. As the team of bats pulled the carriage into the air, he studied the window intently.
She shoved her hand in her pocket, toying with the silver ring. “The lords’ wives really aren’t that bad.”
He cut her a sharp look before fixing his gaze out the window again. Clearly, he wasn’t i
n the mood for conversation.
She closed her eyes, trying to rid her mind of the image of Hothgar parading before a congregation of animated dolls, stroking his lunar staff. Despite herself, laughter escaped, and she covered her mouth.
“What in the gods’ name is funny at this moment?” asked Bael.
“Did you know that Hothgar animates dolls to worship his knob?”
Bael’s eyes widened. Slowly, a smile curled his lips. “I did not. Perhaps I could have lived without that knowledge.” He kept his eyes on her, studying her intently. All traces of tension had left his face. “Would you like to go riding when we return to the manor?” he asked quietly.
“On bats, I assume?”
Bael nodded.
“I’m not really dressed for it.” Ursula glanced down at her evening gown. “I suppose, with the enormous slits Cera cut up the front, I could get my legs around a bat.”
Bael cleared his throat. “The cloak will keep you warm. It’s beautiful, hunting in the daylight, the way the sun catches the moths’ wings.”
How could she say no to that? “I suppose I could really use the practice.”
“Good.” He leaned back in his seat.
Pale sunlight streamed through the window, sparking off his icy eyes and illuminating the perfect contours of his face. She had the strongest impulse to reach out and touch him, but he’d already told her how he felt about “hounds.” And if she thought about it, the rebuke still stung. Obviously, he didn’t like hellhounds. So what kind of women did he like?
She bit her lip. There was no reason she should care. They were going to fight to the death in less than a week, if she even made it that far. Clearly, the wine and the altitude had already gone to her head, muddling her thoughts.
What she needed was to focus on the race that lay ahead of her.
She drummed her fingertips on the seat. “For this race coming up, is there anything else I need to know besides flying?”
He shook his head. “You’ll only need to follow behind me, and try to stay on the bat.”
“Where does the race take place?”
“Around Asta’s spire. We race in three loops.”
She nodded slowly. “And the winners are the fastest?” She frowned. “I really do need the extra practice. I can’t imagine anyone there will be slower than me.”
“Just try to keep up with me.”
She felt the carriage touch down on the roof, sliding over the marble, and she grasped a handle to steady herself.
Bael opened the door, and she stepped out onto the gleaming roof. Bael stared up at the black sky, and he put his fingers in his mouth to whistle for the two bats.
As the carriage lifted into the air, she hugged her cloak tightly around herself. “Did you say something about hunting?”
“Yes. Hunting for moths.”
She scrunched her nose. “Do we have to kill them?”
His brow rose. “Are you suddenly wary of drawing blood? That’s not the warrior I saw slaughtering demons twice her size in the melee.”
She shrugged. “I have a strange affinity for the moths.” Because they’re prey, and so am I.
“We needn’t kill them, if you don’t want to.”
She shielded her eyes, catching a flicker of movement in the dark sky.
Gracefully, the two bats glided onto the roof, just a few feet away.
Bael mounted Vesperella, gripping his neck while Ursula climbed onto Sotz’s shoulders. She wrapped her legs around Sotz, and the fabric of her dress fell away from her thighs. I’m going to have a bit of wind burn by the end of this journey. Bael stared at her for a moment longer than necessary before lifting into the air.
By the time she and Sotz found their way to the roof’s edge, Bael was already circling in a wide arc above her.
She tightened her thighs around Sotz, leaning forward to whisper into his ear. “Follow Vesperella.”
Sotz beat his wings, taking flight off the roof’s edge. He climbed higher, until he flew just beside Bael and Vesperalla.
“Nice work!” Bael shouted over the wind.
“Soon, it’ll be second nature.”
Bael’s flight climbed higher in the sky, rising above the crater’s rim, and Ursula followed a few yards behind, moving in time with the beating of Sotz’s wings.
“See if you can keep up,” Bael yelled. He leaned down, increasing his speed.
Ursula leaned low over Sotz’s neck. Simply adjusting her weight was all the encouragement he needed. His wings beat more strongly as they raced around the crater’s edge in the pearly sunlight. Ursula’s hair blew wildly about her head, but she could still see a stunning view of the crater.
Ahead of her, Bael and Vesperella charged forward, extending their lead and climbing higher into the sky.
Ursula crouched even closer to Sotz. “Can you catch them?”
Sotz’s wings whooshed thorough the air and they sped up. Ursula’s pulse raced as the wind whipped over her skin.
Despite the icy cold that bit into her exposed knees, a strange feeling rippled over her body, almost as if she belonged here, up in the air under a clean, black sky.
She pulled alongside Bael, thrilling at the speed of the flight. They’d climbed higher than she’d ever flown in the carriage, swooping up above Asta’s spire. A frothing sea of moths rose up before them.
With a whoop, Bael directed Vesperella straight at the moths. Sotz plunged after them so fast, Ursula almost lost her grip. She tightened her grasp on the bat just as they hit the edge of the cloud.
The moths parted as they entered, both encircling them at a safe distance. Sotz’s ears perked up, and a low growl rose from his chest. A rich sound vibrated through her gut—the deep thrumming of the moths’ beating wings.
Sotz winged forward, deeper into the cloud.
Ursula leaned into him. “We’re not killing today, Sotz. Just riding.”
Another growl rose from his throat. She had the feeling he wasn’t thrilled about that idea.
Beating his enormous wings, Sotz rose again, climbing out of the cloud of moths until she could see the black sky once again.
From here, Bael led her and Sotz around the edge of the cloud. The writhing mass extended high into the dark sky. From there, the light of Asta reflected off of the moth’s wings, washing them in flashes of purple and violet. There was something almost hypnotic in the way they undulated around the spire.
One hundred feet above her, a bat burst from the cloud, a bleeding moth in its jaws. Another followed. She could hear the beating of their wings as they passed over her. Sunlight highlighted their forms in the dark sky, beautiful and terrifying at the same time.
Far above her, another bat burst from the cloud. Ursula gasped. The pale form was unmistakable—the white bat of the Gray Ghost.
“Bael!” she shouted.
He turned to look at her, but when she tried to point, the white bat had disappeared.
“What was it?” he asked, circling back.
She followed his path, the wind whipping through her hair. “The bat of the Gray Ghost.”
“Did you see where it went?”
“No!” Bloody thing disappeared. Much like a ghost.
Leaning down close to Vesperella, Bael began curving back to the manor. Ursula leaned closer to Sotz, picking up speed to keep pace with Bael. Her pulse raced with a sharp thrill as they swooped lower over the city. I actually think I can do this. I can keep pace with Bael just as well as anyone.
She might have frostbite on her legs at this point, but the clean feel of the lunar air called to her. Somehow, she felt she was meant to fly.
And clearly, so was Bael.
Vesperella dove sharply for the roof of Abelda, and Ursula followed close behind. As the black marble drew nearer, Sotz beat his wings, slowing his descent. He glided gracefully to a landing by Vesperella’s side. Bael was already dismounting.
She stepped off Sotz. The inside of her thighs burned from exhaustion, and the outside
from the freezing wind.
She straightened, glancing at him. “I take it you miss your wings.”
“It’s hard to get used to being grounded after twenty-two millennia of flight.”
She smiled. “The lords’ wives said you were worshipped as a god in the old days.”
“The lords’ wives have a lot to say about me.”
“And yet you’re still a total mystery.”
He eyed her cautiously. “What do you need to know?”
A chilly lunar wind toyed with her hair. “You said you were from Canaan. Where’s the rest of your family?”
“Dead,” he said flatly.
Shit. She shouldn’t have brought that up. She already knew his wife had died. She swallowed hard. “I meant your parents.”
“Dead. A long time ago.” He climbed back on to Vesperella’s back. “You should get inside. You’re going to freeze.”
Before she could respond, Bael leaned forward on Vesperalla’s shoulders and whispered in her ear. Vesperella’s wings stroked the air, and Bael surged upward into the black sky.
Chapter 31
Ursula sat on the sofa, rubbing a salve into her palms. She eyed the sun, edging dangerously close to its zenith, and her pulse sped up. Not long now.
She’d been practicing on Sotz for several days, building up her speed and control. And now, the day before the race, her muscles burned with a deep fatigue.
She pulled up her dress, wincing at the sight of her inner thighs, rubbed raw from spending hours each day winging around the crater with Sotz.
She dabbed the salve onto her thighs, working it into her skin until some of the red faded to a pale pink.
F.U. may not have ridden a bat before, but she seemed to understand the principles of controlling a beast, making it conform to her will with subtle shifts in muscle, little twitches of her hands. Feeling every movement of Sotz’s muscles and sinews. Directing him as though he were an extension of herself. She wasn’t as skilled as Bael, of course, but she was getting there.
At Cera’s insistence, she’d even dipped her toe into the art of clasping her arms around Sotz’s neck to ride upside down, her hair dangling toward the moon’s surface. That particular move still made her heart leap into her throat, but she’d attempted it, nonetheless.
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