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Then she lost herself to the dance of bloodshed, making her way to the main doors. Any guard in a gold tunic and any male with wings was left either bleeding or burning in her wake. She could hear Razik above her, ash floating down to the ground like fresh snow as he matched her song of death in the sky.

By the time she reached the main doors, two guards in the standard issued uniforms were opening them for her. Both of them avoided her gaze as she prowled past them and into her home.

She wished she could take it all in. The seven levels of fire glass bridges that connected the eastern and western sides of the Fiera Palace. The Tana River that flowed through the middle. The six-story library and the private training area beneath the glass palace roof.

As it was, staff and guards alike were darting out of her way as she made her way to the Great Hall. It was also the throne room, but Sorin rarely used it as such. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time he had actually sat on the throne. Granted, he was gone for three years, but even at the Samhain feast, it had been out on display but never sat on.

That was not the case when she threw open the double doors of the Great Hall, a trail of fire blazing behind her. There were two dozen guards in gold tunics between her and the Fae seated on the throne.

Bastien glared at her, his dark auburn hair tied back at the nape of his neck and flames sparking in his navy blue eyes. Eliza flipped the spirit sword in her hand, blue wildfire igniting down it. He knew if they fought, she would win. Just like she had every other time he’d tried to best her. She’d tried to conserve her magic, but while Bastien was a pain in her ass, he was smart. Hence the two dozen guards to wear her down.

That was fine.

She had her own backup.

Raz? Are you done with the airborne acrobatics?

The grounds and the skies are clear.

Great. There is a terrace on the west side. I need you to make an appearance.

Are you asking me to come defend your honor?

What? No. I just want all my magic for this fucker.

When we are finished with this, we should go flying.

Razik,she hissed.

But then a spiked tail was shattering the terrace doors before a black diamond-shaped head appeared, smoke furling up from his snout. Sapphire eyes went directly to her.

“All of them except the one sitting on his ass,” she said.

So excessively violent.

She could hear his dark laugh down the bond as he opened his mouth. The guards began scrambling, but it didn’t matter. Dragon fire erupted into the space between her and the throne. And when the guards were no more than fluttering ash, those black flames brushed against her own in a caress.

“This is the part where you get the fuck up,” Eliza snarled, stalking across the hall towards the throne. Ashes were still drifting down around her as she moved.

“Or the dragon will step in?” Bastien sneered.

A whip of fire shot from her hand, wrapping around Bastien’s throat, and she yanked on it hard. He fell off the throne onto his knees. She could feel his magic battling against hers, feel his flames trying to force hers back.

As she closed the space between them, she said, “I challenge you for the royal seat of the Fire Court, Bastien Eynon.”

She pulled on her flames again, and he lurched forward to catch himself on his hands where tendrils of flame snaked from her and wrapped around his wrists, holding him in place. Then she yanked once more, forcing him to bow before her with his nose to the floor.

“I yield,” he gasped. “I godsdamn yield. The throne and Court are yours.”

She loosened her flames enough so that when she tipped his chin up with the tip of her sword, he could look into her eyes as she said with lethal softness, “The only surrender I will accept is your death.”

“That is not the honorable way this is done,” Bastien rasped, his eyes growing round as she raised her sword.

“While that is true, I’ve been told I am excessively violent,” she replied, and then she brought her sword down, his head rolling a few feet away when his body collapsed onto the floor.

She sent her sword to a pocket realm. She’d clean it later. Then she yanked the tie from her braid that was already half out of its plait. The sound of footsteps had her turning, then she froze, her fingers still tangled in her mess of hair.

“You’re naked.”