Throne of the Fallen

Regardless of how drained he was, Envy moved with as much of his immortal strength as he could muster, dragging his blade across the vampire’s neck.

The wound was superficial, a warning that Envy was still playing.

He spun and struck again, this time sinking his blade into flesh until he nicked bone.

Zarus howled.

Envy barely noticed the hellebane-coated blades as they tore at his flesh.

His gaze was fixed, hungry, on one target.

He brought his dagger down on the vampire’s right knee, bone shattering from the impact. Zarus, for the first time, lost his sneer. He hobbled back, wincing.

Envy stopped playing. Only one of them was walking out of this arena and it sure as fuck was going to be Envy. Fear entered Zarus’s eyes.

Vampires healed fast, but bones took time to mend.

Envy struck again, breaking his other kneecap. It shattered to dust.

Zarus wouldn’t be standing again.

The Kiadara circled them both, spittle flying, landing in acidic hisses on the sand. Envy was momentarily distracted, and one of Bovinae’s bull horns pierced his shoulder, going clean through.

The wound didn’t begin to heal.

Envy gritted his teeth, swinging his blade up and through the Kiadara’s rib cage, despite the ripping pain in his own chest.

His earlier wound had split open, but at least the Kiadara had crumbled into a heap, twitching.

Zarus had summoned the other two Kiadara to his side, forming a meager line of protection. His knees likely wouldn’t heal until he feasted on blood and had a day’s rest.

Zarus would not see sunrise.

The remaining Kiadara growled and screeched.

Envy’s grip on his dagger tightened.

Lion or Falcon. Panthera or Falconidae.

In the end it didn’t matter where he started. Envy felt no satisfaction in destroying these creatures, descended from gods. It was a waste.

And one more reason he would kill this vampire who took life without care.

Not kill, he reminded himself. That final blow belonged to another. Envy might be a soulless demon, but Zarus was a rotten bastard. His court deserved better.

Panthera roared, the sound vibrating the ground with its force.

Until this point, Envy hadn’t paid attention to the crowd; he’d tuned them out, focusing instead on the sounds of his blade, meeting and tearing and shredding flesh. Now he heard their jeers, their cries for blood. They didn’t care whose it was.

He wanted to look for Camilla again in the stands, to know she was still secure, but didn’t. Alexei had his instructions. He’d die by Envy’s hand if he didn’t follow them.

Panthera prowled in a circle around Envy, closing in slowly.

Falconidae let loose a shrill call meant to distract. They would come at Envy as a team.

The wounds in his back bled freely, the drops turning to gold as they hit the ground. The creatures scented it, their gazes turning fully black. Envy was damned, but his blood was still divine; one taste was worth dying for. Or so he’d been told.

“I know I’m pretty. But are you going to stand there mentally undressing me all night?”

They leapt in tandem, each striking out at him. Envy narrowly missed Panthera’s teeth but wasn’t as fortunate with Falconidae’s sword. It carved into his side, hitting a rib.

Hellebane made the wound twice as painful, his breath turning sharp with each damned inhalation. His gold blood mixed with the red and black of his opponents and their previous victim, spilling faster than it had ever done before.

Fucking hell. He was getting… dizzy.

Panthera used the distraction to knock Envy to the ground.

Sand ground into the wounds on his back as Panthera’s teeth gnashed at his throat. Where its saliva hit his skin, it sizzled like water hitting hot rocks.

Envy bucked, sending the lion flying across the pit, its body hitting the stone wall with such power that it fell, limbs and head crooked, dead.

Envy did not pity the final creature. Falconidae.

He charged the raptor-headed monster, dagger puncturing one eye, then the next, before he tore the creature’s head off and tossed it aside, panting. The hellebane continued to burn beneath his skin. He needed to clean his wounds soon. And the fight needed to end.

Envy was weakened, more so than he’d ever admit.

Zarus, however, was trying to drag himself away, trailing his useless legs.

Envy walked over and drove his blade through Zarus’s hand, pinning him, then crouched in front of the wounded vampire, arms propped casually on his knees. The position hurt like nothing he’d ever experienced. But his expression didn’t let any pain show.

It would be so easy to rip Zarus’s head off and feed it to the flames right now. But the game hung in the balance, so he waited, wounds searing. The Fear Collector had given an unmistakable command.

He wondered, briefly, if the vampire had known all along what was at stake today.

If he’d agreed anyway. The Unseelie were excellent at stoking egos, making a win seem inevitable instead of improbable.