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“You keep that fucker knocked out cold, Ramses,” the other seraph griped. “He nearly tore my entire godsdamn wing off. That can’t be healed in this realm. I have to wait until we can go back to—”

“It is not as if I have a plethora of Fae up here to keep my magic wells filled,” the other interrupted with a snarl. “Varlis should have let us keep the female to feed off of.”

Eliza shifted slightly, trying to get a better view of the two. Sure enough, one’s left wing was almost completely shredded. Her lips curled involuntarily into a sadistic grin as she studied Razik’s handiwork.

“He completely fucked this up. Too shortsighted about the female. The Fae here are undisciplined,” the injured one grumbled. “Allowed too much freedom.”

“Once this is over, that’ll change,” came the response as they kept moving out of sight.

She waited, not wanting the sound of her boots on rock to give her away. She was surprised they hadn’t scented her. Then again, she’d been sleeping in Razik’s clothing. She probably smelled like the dragon they were keeping unconscious.

She rolled her eyes at the thought of smelling like him.

After a few minutes, she rose from her crouch, moving silently along the same path the seraphs had followed. She’d thought of killing them both right there, but she needed them to lead her to wherever Razik was. If the one was using his gifts to keep Razik unconscious, they couldn’t be far. It explained why he wasn’t giving her more down the bond.

She went a little farther until she realized there was a ledge ahead that dropped off to…somewhere. Dropping to her stomach, she once again thanked the Witches for the tonic that allowed her to crawl on her belly and not feel her shoulder. She made her way to the edge and peaked over.

And saw a massive black dragon curled up. The bolt was still in his wing, splayed out and lying lifelessly on the ground. His other wing was tucked back along his sleek black scales. His eyes were closed, no sapphire orbs glowing brightly. The way his neck was curled and head sitting, she couldn’t see if the bolt they’d struck him with in the chest was still there. But there were pools of blood beneath him, whether from the bolts or the damage he sustained when he’d fallen from the sky.

The fury that filled her blood was the song of death itself.

Dead.

All these fuckers were dead.

That grin tipped on her lips again.

Until she heard the wings rustle behind her.

Flipping onto her back, she found the seraph with the wind magic standing over her. Keres. That’s what Varlis had called him. He’d obviously used his gifts to conceal the sound of his movements.

“Valiant effort,” Keres said with a sneer. He strolled casually forward. “Varlis said we didn’t need to monitor you, but you didn’t become the general of a powerful Court for no reason, did you? I imagine even in this world, it requires more than spreading your legs to reach such positions of power.”

Eliza said nothing, watching how he moved, sweeping his body for weapons. Her fire wouldn’t do much. His winds would suck the air from it, and it would waste her already weaker-than-normal reserves.

“I flew over that cave a few times a day, not surprised to find you gone after the first one,” Keres continued. “It is interesting that such an archaic way of thinking still exists in some worlds. That females are still considered the weaker beings. Varlis certainly seems to think so.” He stood over her now, looking down on her. A mixture of amusement and victory written on his features.

“What is interesting,” Eliza said, shifting her weight slightly to her injured side, “is that you just acknowledged that males are arguably weaker, and yet you stand over me as though you have won.”

“Females may be stronger than males in many ways, but I am still a seraph. And you are still just a Fae,” Keres retorted.

“A Fae with fire,” she countered, flames flaring to life.

Keres scoffed, the fire instantly dying at the power of his winds, but it provided the distraction she’d needed. Rolling to her feet, she grabbed the dagger she’d seen shoved down the inside of Keres’s boot. She felt him pull the air from her lungs, leaving her gasping, but she’d already thrown the blade with force, lodging it deep into his side.

He bellowed a curse, hand dropping to the hilt, and he lost the grip on his magic, oxygen flooding into her system once again. She’d been prepared for that move, had already been holding her breath when he’d stolen her air. While he was yanking the dagger free, she was pulling her knife from her belt, throwing it at the hand wrapped around the dagger. Keres cursed again, dropping the dagger.

“You bitch,” he snarled, eyes full of rage narrowing on her, before he hissed another curse as he jerked around, putting out the fire she’d set on his feathered wings.

She felt the air sucked from her lungs again, but she stayed on her feet, ignoring her body’s demand for oxygen as she drew the spirit sword from the air. Kere’s eyes went wide when he spun back around, the apparent shock making his gifts falter, and she sucked in another breath.

“We were told that sword was with the queen across the sea,” Keres said, eyes fixed on the blade.

“She has her own spirit sword,” Eliza replied, trying to regulate her breathing again, preparing for the next time he took her air. “This one is mine.”

“How is it thattwoSwords of the Requiem are in this realm?”

Eliza’s gaze darted to the sword, then she shrugged as flames wound around the blade. “Maybe that question will be answered while you rot in the Pits of Torment.”