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Corayne bristled. On her back, the Spindleblade hummed with magic, sensing the portal.

“No one is owed the world,” she said. “Not even the greatest king, and you are certainly far from that.”

The insult broke against Taristan like water on stone. He barely felt it and put out his hand instead. White veins stood out at his wrist, running beneath his sleeve. They looked like dead worms.

“Give me the blade,” he said.

With a growl, Dom stepped between them, his greatsword pointed at Taristan’s heart.

Taristan did not move or seem to notice the blade hovering inches from his chest. And for good reason. It would not harm him, and they all knew it.

Corayne’s mind whirred, trying to formulate some sort of plan.We are surrounded, pinned down by a dead army, fire hounds, a cityburning to the ground.She looked sidelong, meeting Sorasa’s flaring eyes. The assassin’s gaze burned like the rooftops around them. Behind her, more undead pressed into the churchyard, forming a thick circle around the Companions and the roses. Slowly, Sorasa tipped her head from side to side. She didn’t have a plan either.

Because there was only one plan to be had.

“How many people must die for your selfish dream?” Corayne barked, whirling back to Taristan. “Forhers?”

At the mention of his wretched queen, something sparked in Taristan. His smirk disappeared and he threw back the folds of his cloak. Corayne expected finer clothing for a prince but knew this was Taristan as he chose to be. A rogue, a murderer, a mercenary behind someone else’s throne.

“I would hope you would be lucky enough to find someone to share your ambitions, as I have. But I doubt you’ll survive the afternoon,” he answered hotly. Then he eyed Dom’s blade, still raised and ready. “Has he forgotten how to speak since I last saw him?”

Corayne glared. “No, he’s just thinking of all the ways he’s going to kill you.”

“Well, he’s failed twice before,” Taristan replied, settling back into his smooth manner. He gave a nod to Ronin, and the wizard spun his hand, fingers gnarled like the branches above his head.

With a wet snarl, three undead lurched forward and seized Dom by the arms, trying to drag him down. The immortal snarled back and threw them off, their bodies slamming against the nearby graves. Stone cracked and split, spines snapped, but the undead were undeterred, pushed on by Ronin’s clawed fingers.They eventually overwhelmed the Elder, and wrestled him to his knees, his body half covered in walking corpses.

“Coward,” Dom ground out, breathing hard against the arms wrapped around his neck.

Corayne could only watch, her heartbeat ramming in her ears.

Taristan raised a single brow. “Coward?” he said, crooking a finger.

Behind him, Ronin did the same, and the undead fell back, freeing Dom. The immortal wasted no time, a blur as he closed the distance between them. He hit Taristan with the force of a marauding bear, his massive hands going to his neck. Corayne tensed, eyes wide. She expected him to tear Taristan’s head clean off, but her uncle snarled back, gripping Dom’s wrists with long, slim fingers. Corayne watched in horror as the mortal peeled off Dom’s grip, Elder that he was. Somehow, Taristan was now stronger. He wrapped a hand around Dom’s throat instead and squeezed, lifting him clean off the ground.

“Call me a coward again, Domacridhan,” Taristan said in a low, dangerous voice. Above him, Dom’s face was unchanged, set with rage. But his skin began to purple.

He struck hard, kicking and punching at Taristan. It did nothing.

“Don’t,” Corayne heard herself whisper, her voice lost in the chaos.

On the ground, Sorasa strained at her captors. They only pinned her down, holding her head to the dirt and grave dust.

Suddenly, Taristan let Dom drop. The undead scrambled to hold him again, forcing him onto all fours.

“Funny, you Elders raised my brother,” Taristan said as Dom wheezed, gasping for air. “But I’m more like his precious immortals than he could ever be.”

At Ronin’s command, the undead shoved Dom’s head down, his body bent. He looked like a prisoner before the headsman’s block, awaiting execution.

Taristan raised the Spindleblade in both hands.

Without hesitation, Corayne stepped sideways, planting herself between Dom and Taristan’s sword. She raised her own long knife, ready to parry his blow.

Again, he laughed. “Is that supposed to be a sword?”

“You’re not as strong as you think you are,” she snapped, with a laugh of her own. It echoed darkly through the yard. “Not when the realm rises against you.”

“The realm,” Taristan spat, lowering his sword an inch. “So many splintered kingdoms and countries, all set against each other, all concerned with their own foolish endeavors. This realm is broken. It deserves to be conquered and claimed.”