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“No, you came here to steal this back and try to kill me for revenge.”

War kicked his leg out and caught her ankle, tripping her up, but she dropped into a squat and grazed the dagger against his inner thigh. War dove and rolled out of the way, then threw out a blast of power that slammed into her shield with a crack and the impact lit up like a bolt of lightning.

Hel stepped back several feet to observe and folded his arms, assessing the goddess of night. She was better at combat than he anticipated, given that to his knowledge she’d never participated in any wars. She ducked and weaved, flipped and bent in ways that were incredible to miss War’s weapon. There was no doubt she was able to take out Synick. But no one was better than War at combat. She was mistaken in thinking Synick had been the Primevar’s most elite warrior.

Hel watched him pull back at least twice when he could have knocked her in the head. His downfall was having a soft spot for females, even for one that wanted to kill him apparently.

“Come on, War. Stop playing around,” Hel said.

Their weapons clashed midair, and they stared each other down. “I’ll back off if you will,” he said, barely breathing heavily.

She shifted to shadow and Soulender whooshed through the air and sliced across War’s shoulder, cutting into the thick fabric of his leathers, but no blood by the looks of things. In a blink, she was gone in a flash of darkness and appeared before Hel; Soulender pierced his chest.

Mouth dropping open, heat flared in Hel’s body, panic filled him. He didn’t want to die— couldn’t die. His hand wrapped around the blade and both she and he looked down… it didn’t go through. His eyes flicked up to hers, her chest rose up and down rapidly as she blinked in confusion. After a moment she bared her teeth, and she pushed harder—to no avail. Hel slowly smiled.

How was this possible? She’d caught him by surprise, and he should be dead. That was the true weapon, and he didn’t have the time to put up a blocking shield.

The frustration fell from her face to one of confusion and she backed off, letting the dagger hang at her side. After a moment she brought it back up to eye level to inspect it, and Hel tugged his shirt down. A tiny bead of blood welled up from where the blade struck, and from there a new mark slowly appeared, the outline of a lily on a vine. “Well, that’s interesting.”

Before Valeen could attack again, Hel flicked his wrist, forming an impenetrable bubble around her, trapping her inside. She flipped the blade over, continuing her inspection of it. She seemed as baffled that the blade hadn’t done its job as he was and didn’t appear to notice her cage yet.

War slid his ax onto his back and cautiously walked around her then stared at the new mark beside many others Hel already possessed. “New shielding magic? Have you made yourself invincible now?”

Hel tugged his black shirt back up and looked Valeen over. “It wasn’t me.”

War’s brows furrowed. “Perhaps the Maker spared you and that is a mark you are favored.”

“Perhaps.” He might believe so if he didn’t see the same mark on Valeen’s shoulder that hadn’t been there moments before. Did it mean they were to be sworn enemies marked to kill the other? Or something much deeper he didn’t dare fantasize about. It was absurd.

Valeen lifted her hand and pressed it against the invisible bubble. “Let me out.” Her voice was venomous, deadly.

War took a step closer to her and held out his palm. “Give us the dagger first.”

She laughed and slid her hand along the length of the dagger, and it vanished. “No one will ever find it but me.”

Hel was familiar with making things disappear into the aether, another realm, or simply sending something back to the place it belonged but to be able to do such a thing was a rare gift. One thing was for certain, no one would find that dagger unless she willed it—it could be anywhere, at any time, in any realm.

War slowly walked around her. “Do you have the sword of truth?”

“No. I couldn’t find it.”

“Why did you kill Synick?”

She tilted her head to the side, looking him up and down. “He murdered someone close to me. It’s an offense punishable by death in Runevale if he wasn’t a Primordial. I also suspect he’s been stealing from my territory.”

“Can any of this be proven?” Hel asked. Truth was he believed it without question. Synick prided himself on his variety of “stock” and had no qualms with murdering those lesser than him. It made perfect sense he’d take from House of Night if only to boast. She was one of the few who wouldn’t sell or barter her people to others.

“Considering he is the head of the council—excuse me—was,” she smirked, “I didn’t bother going the standard route. He would lie, manipulate, and deceive as the rest of you do—as he has always done.”

“We’re not all like him,” War said firmly.

“So, you’re telling me you don’t treat your people like cattle? You don’t scheme to see who can have the most powerful bloodline or pit people against each other? I find that difficult to believe given who trained you. Your father and mother may be good people, War, but Synick was a piece of shit.”

“I rule in Ryvengaard and no, I don’t do those things. The dragon shifters follow me out of respect. And we’re in agreement about Synick. Yes, he trained us, but we don’t hold the same moral values.”

She looked at Hel, and he sighed. “You know why people follow War? It’s because he’s a god and he could kill them with little effort. It’s the same reason the people in my territory do as they are told and the same reason your people admire you. They revere and fear us. I give them small gifts of magic; they worship me.”

She rolled her eyes as if she wasn’t a goddess herself, revered and admired by others. “Exactly as I thought.” She glanced down at her upper arm and did a double take. Her fingers ran over her skin, harshly rubbing at the new lily mark there. “What did you do to me?”