Once! "Your pet's making sniveling noises again, Omort. Shut-her-up!"
"I think you're not committed to this cause!" Omort snapped. "Perhaps I should withhold the morsus to spur you on."
Sabine's eyes narrowed. The chamber appeared to rock. "You keep threatening me with that, and you will not like the outcome."
"You dare-"
Four fire demons traced in front of the dais, just to her side. The court fell silent in shock.
The demons were beaten, bloody, and handless. Pinned to the shirt collar of one was a folded note stamped with an N in a black wax seal.
Nïx. The Valkyrie had sent them back with their hands lopped off-rendering them powerless.
Omort stormed down the steps to them and ripped the parchment free, tearing it open. As he read, a vein bulged in his forehead. "That bitch! She'll know my wrath and will learn to fear it!" he yelled, crumpling the letter and throwing it away. "I go for her myself!" In an instant, Omort raised his hands and smote the four to ash.
Stepping around the charred remains, Sabine scooped up the note, smoothing the paper to read:
Dear puss,
Is this all you've got? Why don't you strap on your big girl panties and come face me yourself? Unless you fear that the Nixanatar will spank Omort's wittle bottom.
By the way, you've taken one of the most respected leaders in our army. We're going to want him back. Especially since Sabine cant break him.
Bringing it,
Nïx the Ever-Knowing, Soothsayer Without Equal,
General of the New Army of Vertas.
Sabine whistled out a surprised breath. The Valkyrie truly was crazed.
Then she frowned. Can't break him? Again, was there a time limit? Style points?
And what was this Army of Vertas? Sabine had heard rumors that Nïx was placing factions together- the Lykae, the Forbearers, the noble fey, the House of Witches, a mix of Demonarchies, and many more. Had they all struck an alliance?
Perhaps they were using this letter to lure Omort into a trap. Sabine knew the other side had mystickal prisons, entire islands that were inescapable. Could they capture the deathless one?
Sabine stared at the script, her thoughts racing.
"Bring me the rage demon!" Omort commanded. 'I'll send Rydstrom's arms back to the Valkyrie!"
"No!" Sabine cried, her heart in her throat. Omort would butcher him. Rydstrom would regenerate the limbs, but the pain .. . "You will not-"
The sudden hit took her across the face, blood spray­ing out from her mouth over the marble.
Hettiah had attacked her? That cold, pure fury Sabine knew so well swept through her. Then came the bile, the nausea, that could only be allayed with violence. Self-preservation, survival.
A red haze covered her vision; Sabine spat more blood as Hettiah's friends surrounded her.
15
Rhydstrom was disgusted with himself. One blow job and he'd been ready to capitulate everything. Yes, it was the best one he'd ever received, but still...
He shook his head. It wasn't just what she'd done to him, but how. She'd been everything he'd ever dreamed of. And when the room had gone ablaze, letting him see the intensity of what she was feeling ... ?
What male wouldn't be tempted to do anything to have her?
So close . . . He'd almost broken down. If Rydstrom surrendered his will in this, he could impregnate her. And then, what if he couldn't escape before she killed him?
His child would be raised by her and by Omort, used as a pawn. They wouldn't understand a demon child's needs. As if they'd care. He would never subject a child of his to the hell on earth they promised.
She wanted a vow Rydstrom would not give.
For a rage demon king to marry, he would make a claim and a vow of self: "I claim the honor of protecting and keeping you. You are mine-my consort to touch, to guard, to cherish. You will rule beside me and create our dynasty. Accept my claim, and it will be so, now and ever after."
If his female accepted him, then they would be wed forever. But Rydstrom couldn't pledge his life to another under this kind of coercion. He would do it when he was ready.
And when she was worthy.
He heard footsteps, not hers. The attendants had already been here, leaving him free, clothed-
A guard of five vampires materialized in his cell. One was Lothaire, the Enemy of Old. He'd been a Horde general, but Rydstrom had never engaged his troops.
Rydstrom snarled, "What do you want-"
They attacked as one. No matter how hard he fought, he couldn't repel them with only his horns and fangs, couldn't keep them from shackling his wrists and ankles together.
When they traced him, he found himself in the court at Tornin. What Rydstrom saw there made his stomach clench.
The well, that purest power, was strewn with grisly body parts. The most evil beings in the Lore were gath­ered around it, dozens of breeds-the Neoptera, winged insectlike humanoids, the Alchemists, eternally old men with long, straggly green beards, the Cerunnos, ram-headed snakes....
In my home.
Omort sat upon a gold throne, smirking. When Ryd-strom lunged forward, fangs bared, the vampires held him fast. Can't break free . . .
"Welcome to my court, demon. The mighty Ryd-strom doesn't look so legendary now."
"Fight me, you f**king coward!"
Omort strode for Rydstrom, but then he stopped, turning his attention to the center of the court, as if helpless not to.
Rydstrom s breath left him in a rush. Sabine! She was surrounded by females, bleeding from her mouth. Every protective instinct within him flared.
When he grappled against the vampires, Lothaire gave him a sharp kidney punch. "Easy, demon," he mut­tered, his accent thick.
One of the lackeys with Lothaire said, "Hettiah will just erase Sabine's illusions. I'll bet twenty sovereigns
on her."
"A fool and his money," Lothaire sighed. "Sabine will thrash her. That one burns rage like kerosene."
Sabine's eyes did look glazed with a mindless fury. "What is this?" Rydstrom demanded.
"A mere feminine row. Hettiah-the one who vaguely resembles Sabine-and her friends intend to murder your female. They see her failure with you as a weakness. They'll keep attacking her." Under his breath, Lothaire added, "Demon, you're killing her."
"Release me so I can guard her!"
"Keep watching."
There were too many of them. She couldn't hold off a dozen. One snuck behind her with a dagger. "Sabine!"
Like a shot, she dropped down, dodging the blade, sweeping her leg around to take out the female's feet. Once the woman fell to the ground, Sabine snatched the knife, then raised her booted foot to crush her enemy's face with the heel.