Page 87 of Lady of Starfire (Lady of Darkness #5)

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 that two Swords 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.”

Keres growled, hitting her with a blast of wind that sent her flying back.

She managed to keep her grip on her sword, her head hitting the rocky earth hard.

The tonic kept her from feeling the pain, but black spots still filled her vision.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the sound of his wings rustling.

The crunch of his steps. The movement of the world around her.

The press of his boot on her wound. The feel of the blood seeping out as he opened it back up.

He stole her breath—slowly, torturously. She felt the air stir, knew he was bending over her now.

“Pathetic,” he sneered. “You cannot even look your death in the eyes.”

Her lungs were burning, her brain screaming for oxygen now, but he was certain he’d won. Just like all those times males in the armies thought they had bested her. She opened her eyes, the edges blurred and Kere’s face swimming before her.

“So you do have some honor,” he said with a cruel smirk.

A smirk she mirrored on her own lips. She saw the pause. The sudden worry that he had missed something.

And then she slammed her hand into the still bleeding wound on his side, sending flames into his body the same way he was sucking the air from hers.

Keres lurched back, a scream of pure agony ripping from him. If Varlis and the other seraphs hadn’t heard them before, they certainly did now. Gulping down oxygen, she gave herself five seconds.

One.

Keres was still bellowing, having turned his magic inward now. She could feel it battering against the fire burning away at his insides.

Two.

She pushed to a sitting position as his wild gaze landed on her again.

Three.

He rushed her, winds slamming into a thin shield of flame she’d managed to get up.

Four.

She raised her blade, fire igniting around it once more.

Five.

She took in one more deep breath, all that time learning to control her breathing with sword meditation coming into play. Eliza pushed to her feet at the same time she felt Keres rip through her shield.

And she plunged her burning sword into his chest. Keres didn’t have time to lurch back before she was yanking it back and swiping it across his throat. Then she spun, popping up behind him to slice both wings from his back in one clean swing.

Less than a minute.

That’s how long it had taken her to have the seraph dying at her feet.

Less than a minute was also how much time she had before another seraph was in the sky and diving for her. The same one that was keeping Razik in slumber. That had to be using all of his power, which meant he had nothing left to combat hers.

Her dark smile grew as her fire wrapped around his limbs and yanked him to the ground. The sound of him hitting the mountainside echoed around them. Eliza stalked forward, already feeling her power starting to wane. That was fine. Blades would do.

“You are the one keeping him asleep?” she asked too calmly, crouching beside him and pulling a dagger from her side.

The seraph groaned, trying to push himself up on his arms and collapsing once more onto his front.

“Wake him up,” Eliza demanded. When she was met with another groan, she slammed the dagger into a wing, dragging it down the feathers.

The seraph howled.

“Wake him up,” she ordered again.

“Can’t,” he rasped, thrashing on the ground, trying to move away from her.

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“It’ll …wear off,” he panted.

“Then I have no use for you,” she replied, pushing back to her feet. She cleaved his wings from his spine one by one before she separated his head from his body, leaving it all burning behind her.

Stalking to the ledge once more, she found the seraph with the damaged wing armed with a bow, a shirastone arrow trained on her.

She laughed as she leapt from the ledge at the same moment he let the arrow fly.

She’d feel the impact of that jump when the tonic wore off, but now she landed on her feet in front of him.

He didn’t even have his next arrow nocked before she was plunging her spirit sword through his throat, twisting as she withdrew it.

She turned her back on him as he fell, fire already burning away his existence. Blood was splattered across her. Hers. The seraph’s. It was on her face, her clothing, in her hair.

None of it was the blood she wanted.

In this moment, she understood on a soul-deep level why Sorin had lost his mind when Scarlett had been injured all those months ago.

How Thia’s death had driven Cyrus nearly insane.

She understood why it had been so godsdamn hard for Scarlett to let Talwyn live and what that would have done to her when Sorin made that request. Razik wasn’t dead, but he was greatly injured.

Their bond wasn’t even a full bond, and yet it demanded payment for harming him.

And she was all too happy to bestow it.

“Varlis!” she screamed, spinning in a slow circle as she searched for him. He’d be nearby, hiding like the fucking coward he was. “You should have killed me,” she cried again, sheathing the sword down her back.

His death would be completely by the fire he loathed.

The fire that had caused the death of her mother. Her father.

The fire that had loved her when no one was left to do so.

She heard the crunch of gravel beneath a boot before she spotted him. He had been slinking towards Razik’s still form, another bolt in his hand. Close-up, she could see it was nightstone. She heated the bolt, letting it absorb her fire until Varlis dropped it with a yelp.

With slow, measured steps she approached him, his tanned face leeching of all color as she burned away the vines he tried to subdue her with. He was powerful, but even in a weakened state, she was more so.

“Eliza.” He said her name with venom, taking a step back with every step she moved forward until he was getting far too near to Razik.

“I would stop right there,” she said in a dark calm. “Any part of you that touches him will be cut from your body, set on fire, and shoved down your throat.”

Varlis stilled, but the condescension on his face didn’t waiver. “You are involved with the dragon,” he sneered in realization. “You truly found every possible way to disgrace your lineage, didn’t you?”

“There is no doubt in my mind that my lineage is about to smile as I burn you alive,” she replied, fire flaring at her fingertips.

“Your father was nothing but a mill-worker near the Xylon Forest,” Varlis spat. “Worthless, with half the power of your mother.”

“And yet …” Eliza said with a half-grin as she flicked a flame at him. He cursed, batting at the hole she’d burned into his fine jacket. “I am still more powerful than you.”

“You are nothing compared to me,” Varlis sneered, taking a step towards her despite the way her fire flared. “You won’t kill me.”

She barked a laugh. “What in the realms makes you believe that?”