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The bull charged, racing toward me on thundering steps. His body leapt across the distance, his gait larger than I could ever dream to achieve. I thrust my hands forward, grabbing him by each of his horns. My feet slid back along the dirt as he pushed me, but I managed to keep him from goring me again. “Stop,” I said, my voice quiet and meant only for him.

He kept pushing, forcing me back toward the wall where I knew he would overpower me. If he pinned me, I was as good as dead.

“Stop!” I screamed, wincing when he ignored me and the red in his eyes flashed even brighter. In the background, I watched as Khaos got to his feet slowly, staring down at me as he realized I’d overcome my own hatred. My eyes no longer burned with the flow of blood, feeling more human than I had in a long time.

I glanced over my shoulder, repositioning my hands on his horns carefully and using that grip to pull myself up. I flipped my body over, coming down to sit on the bull’s back as he slammed into the wall horn-first, impaling the stone itself.

I held on as he bucked, attempting to dislodge me as I thought of a way to end this without bloodshed. With my anger gone, I had no desire to kill a creature that was being ridden by the same magic that had nearly turned me into a monster.

I gripped his horns as he yanked them free from the wall, using them to hold myself in my seat as I flattened toward his back, gripping as tightly as I could. The words came easy as I leaned toward his ears, a soft murmur that rang through the arena in spite of the quiet nature. “I am sorry for your son,” I said, the words ringing true in spite of the circumstances of his death. I wasn’t sorry he was dead when it meant I was alive, but Iwassorry that we’d been in that position in the first place. I was sorry it was him or me, and I was sorry that I’d had no choice because of the bitch who’d put me there.

He flipped me off his back, my hands clinging to his horns as he raced forward and dragged me beneath his body. I managed to avoid the heavy footfalls of his hooves by hooking my boots around his armor, releasing one hand to work the straps connecting it around his body loose. The armor flapped open, giving me a vulnerability finally.

A fail-safe.

He shook his head sharply, finally forcing me to release his horns as I fell to the ground. He stood over me, pressing a single hoof onto the top of my arm while I fought to get my small dagger free from the holster at my waist.

“You cannot defeat hatred with kindness. Nothing can overcome pure, absolute hatred, you fool,” he said, his deep voice too loud as he leaned in close, preparing to take a bite out of my face. I held his gaze, knowing that it might not be enough to overcomehishatred.

But it was enough for mine.

“You’re wrong,” I said, thinking of all the moments I’d allowed my own hatred to take over. Every time I’d stabbed Aramis when he’d only done what was necessary to save my life from the brother determined to kill me. When I’d made stupid choices because of that rage within me, picked fights I could never fucking win. I forgave them all, but more than that.

I forgave myself.

“I forgive you. You are more than what they’ve made you become,” I said, feeling the burn of tears in my eyes. This trial, this battle, was about more than a bull who wanted revenge for his son. But it didn’t stop him from becoming one more thing I needed forgiveness for.

He pulled back, preparing himself and then lunged forward. His horn was only a breath from my eye when I slipped my dagger between his ribs in his side, sliding it under the armor that I’d parted to give me access to his heart.

The bull froze, staring down at me and blinking past the red haze in his eyes. It faded from view as I shoved his leg off my arm, scrambling back to get free before he fell to the sand. With my dagger clutched in my hand, I watched him collapse, the brown eyes of an animal staring up at me as he bled.

“I’m sorry,” I said, holding that gaze and watching as it glazed over with death. “May you find peace in the meadows of Folkvangr with your son.”

He blinked, long and slow, his snout parting to reveal an already graying tongue. “You are forgiven, Child of Fate.”

I dropped to my knees, allowing the burning in my eyes to consume me. My tears fell to the sand, offering them a moment of hydration as I stood and stumbled toward the canteen Khaos had dropped.

I flung it open, pouring it into my mouth and allowing the sweet crispness of water to cool my insides. I turned my stare up to the Primordial who hadn’t stepped in, who had been more than willing to let me die for his trial. “What does my father wish for me to bring him as a gift to prove my worth?” I asked, attempting to keep the anger out of my voice.

In this place, this river filled with so much hatred, my own had no place.

I’d hold onto mine, filing it away for only the moments when it was needed.

“The horn that bled you,” he said, his jaw clenching. He shoved the emotion away quickly, and I was immediately reminded of the way Macha had said he couldn’t feel any emotions. Primordials didn’t feel. They just were.

So why did my father watch me saw the horn from the bull’s body as if he wished I could desecrate his corpse more?

When I finished and held the horn in my hands, I turned to look at my father and the man who still stood beside him, his face twisted into a scowl I recognized all too well. “How can you not take vengeance against the man who hurt me?” I asked, all trace of energy fading from my body. I didn’t know if it was the absence of the Styx toying with my hatred or the injury that continued to bleed, but I couldn’t find it in me to close the gap and take my revenge all over again.

“Oh, foolish daughter,” Khaos said, shaking his head sadly. “I already have.”

Byron faded from view, his body disappearing into a gust of wind as if he’d been a specter all along and not really there.

A figment of my imagination, brought by the trials to use my past against me.

I blinked, and the Lord of Mistfell was gone.

TWENTY