Page 108 of Dance of Kings and Thieves

He gasped when the point rammed through his throat, then crumbled to his knees. In the next heartbeat, one of the skyds blew a ram’s horn, and the other pointed his sword toward the covered bridge when a deep growl broke the night.

Valen stepped into the streaks of moonlight.

By the hells, nothing thrilled me more than the sight of trembling broad swords in the hands of my enemies. They gaped at Valen. His claws, the blood on his face, the glow of his eyes.

“Stay back,” one skyd shouted. They’d long forgotten about their dead companion, or where the rogue knife had come from, and instead kept an unwavering watch on Valen.

Pointless. In another breath, Valen’s lust for blood and pain took hold. He attacked. Primal and wild, with no skill of battle the skyds could counter. It was, in every way, a perfect vision of murderous desire. The king lunged, unafraid of the cut of swords against his body. The more his flesh soaked in his own blood, the more power he seemed to gain.

His jaws clamped on the face of one guard, peeling back the skin there. The guard screamed his agony and fell. Valen swiped at the second with his claws. Narrow, deep gashes opened up the skyds throat. Not fatal, but enough to pump fresh blood with his pulse. In another breath, Valen had him pinned to the ground, feasting on his throat until the guard stopped moving.

More guards spilled into the front courtyard, but it was a marvel of sheer, perfect violence watching Valen’s lust for blood turn to slaughter.

Fae came, some like the dead sluagh we found. They tried to press their mouths close to Valen’s, but the beast rammed his claws into their necks, shredding their airways to pieces.

Rifters came. They snapped Valen’s arms, his legs. He roared his agony, but never fell. Never ceased his dance of savagery.

From my corner, I opened my palms, embracing the fear soaking the courtyard, and coiled my mesmer around new victims. I closed a fist and the shadows snapped three guards at their spines. They crumbled backward, and I moved to more. Like knives and arrows, darkness plunged into chests and innards.

My arms trembled. Strength would wane soon, but the death I caused helped strengthen Valen. Already the king entered Felstad stronger than he’d arrived.

When Valen was well into his slaughter, I removed my shroud of mesmer and followed a step behind the king. Any guard Valen tossed aside broken, but still breathing, I slipped behind and finished with my sword.

“Kase.” Tor skidded to my side, one hand on my arm. “What the hells was that?”

“He needed to get closer,” I said. “Seems to be working.”

Tor lifted his gaze. Screams bellowed out from the inner corridors. Calls for the protection of Ivar and his lady added to my own bloodlust. Ivarwashere.

“Did he harm you?” Halvar appeared, breathless and dripping in sweat.

“A scratch.”

Halvar barked a laugh. “Gods, it’s working.”

The greatest victory of the night was the vicious grin splitting over Tor’s usually stoic face.

“Tell us where to lead him, and he will obliterate them,” Halvar said, loading an arrow.

With the courtyard bathed in blood and Valen still slaughtering his way into the corridors, we would need to keep him contained with killing our enemies, but away from our people. I scanned the upper floors, then dropped my gaze toward the weapon wall.

My heart sank.

Tethered behind iron bars, Dagny screamed watching the ferocity of Valen spill blood. She was stripped to nothing but a diaphanous chemise. Scabs and welts were raised along her arms and flesh. Open one of those marks and she would be devoured.

“Cover me.”

Tor and Halvar sprinted at my back, watching their king, as I skidded to a stop at Dagny’s cage.

“Dag. Dagny, look at me.”

She lifted her dirty face, and a wrinkle of emotion filled her brow once she recognized me. “Kase.”

I hacked at the pathetic ropes keeping her cage locked. Not even iron. Enough to keep her locked inside, but simple enough to break through. When I pulled the cage door open, she fell against me. Her arms choked my throat and she sobbed.

There were times I could be kind, maybe Malin would say I could be tender, but not now.

My grip tightened on her arms as I pulled back. Voice rough, I gave Dagny a slight shake to catch her attention. “Focus, Dag. Where are they keeping the littles?”