Page 38 of Ringmaster (The Kingdom of Shadow & Bone #1)
The Leyak barrels toward me, ready to end this.
No longer able to hold a shadow form, the beast charges, teeth and claws bared.
Cool metal brushes against the palm of my hand.
My fingers close around the hilt. In one swift motion, I roll and drive the blade into its shoulder—then kick it off with all my strength.
Like one of the gymnasts in the circus, I roll and leap to my feet, taking a defensive stance, waiting for the next attack…
It circles me, each step deliberate, close but just far enough out of reach. I study it: the struggle of each breath, the sag of its wounded shoulder as thin membrane pulses bleeding freely from the stab wound.
“Give up,” I snarl. “Your end is imminent.”
“Not without you, Shadow Prince. The Divine have such a lucrative ransom on your soul, and that pretty little mate of yours.” It cackles. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. Did you really think you could hide her from them?”
My body shakes, consumed by white-hot rage. I fight the urge to lunge—deny myself the option. It’s trying to get me to strike. Instead, I smile.
The Leyak lunges, snapping at me, but I’m faster.
I pivot, spin, and slice clean through its chest. Binding magic surges up through the tip of my blade, coiling around my arm.
The Leyak’s carcass crashes to the ground, a rush of souls pouring out of the wound.
I scramble to collect them in a large glass jar—these are worth preserving.
I’ll present them to Lucifer as an apology for the delay.
It’ll please him and the Ringmaster both.
As I dig the blade in deeper, I lean over the Leyak as it struggles to breathe.
“Did you really think you stood a chance against me, puny Leyak?” I growl, shifting in a flash, wings spread wide, beating against the tendrils of shadow streaming from them. My teeth gleam in the moonlight as drool seeps from the corners of my mouth.
“Please, don’t send me back. I can give you information,” it pleads.
“You know I can’t do that creature. What information would you trade to avoid punishment for your escape?” I ask, trying to negotiate.
“I’ll tell you nothing unless you free me.” It hisses.
I shrug and plunge my sword the rest of the way through, then bite its head off, swallowing it whole.
Blood and shadow slick my throat as I devour the foul thing, silencing its final plea.
Wrapping the Leyak’s limp tail around my arm, I yank the sword out and sheath it.
I’ll clean it off back at the manor. My wings beat harder as I go soaring past the market and over the ocean, dropping the carcass where it won’t wash up on any nearby shores.
The body hits the water with a splash and vanishes beneath the waves. I disappear into the night, cutting through the clouds and trailing shadow like a storm. I return to the circus triumphant, ready to present my spoils to Lucifer with my head held high.
The cool, misty air kisses my skin as I pass through the barrier.
He’s here—Lucifer. I sense him with the Ringmaster.
I descend landing lightly on the rooftop.
Shingles skitter underfoot. I steady myself, open the bond, and search for them.
Glimpses of the Ringmaster’s office flash in my mind.
I burst into shadow and reappear sitting in a high-backed wing chair between them in the smoke-steeped office.
“Azrael, I assume you’ve completed your assignment,” the Ringmaster sneers, glaring down his nose at me.
I hold up the large glass jar, filled to the brim with the inky black liquid. His jaw drops in surprise. He chokes on the smoke from his burning emberleaf but quickly recovers.
“For you both,” I say casually, glancing at Lucifer. “Consider it an apology for my delay.”
Lucifer grins wide. “Excellent. Apology accepted.”
I hand the jar to him, watching the jealousy flare in the Ringmaster’s eyes. Lucifer claps his hands. “Glasses. This calls for a toast.”
A serving tray appears on the table, bearing three crystal glasses.
I don’t dare refuse—not with him. He twists open the lid and pours the dark liquid, sealing the jar again and slipping it into his jacket.
Seems he has no intention of sharing with the Ringmaster after all.
He hands us each a glass, raising his own in the air.
“A toast,” Lucifer purrs. “To Azrael. Slayer of filth. Collector of debts… even if fashionably late.”
I tip the glass. Souls pour over my tongue like warm velvet—honeyed with agony. I swallow slowly, relishing the way they settle into my bones. The others drink, glasses drained and returned to the try, which vanishes from sight.
Lucifer stands to leave. Clearly, our presence is no longer required. He was waiting to see if I’d fail. Now that I haven’t, he’s done. He dips his chin. “Gentlemen. Until next time.”
He walks to the fireplace and disappears in a flash of flame. I stand to leave, and so does the Ringmaster. The back of his hand strikes my face. I rub my jaw, biting back the urge to rip him to shreds. My eyes flash in warning.
“What was that for?” I ask through clenched teeth.
“Never embarrass me like that again,” he seethes.
I freeze, biting my tongue, rage pulsing in my gut. One strike. One movement. That’s all it would take to bury him in the floorboards. But I let the moment pass. My power curls inward, like a blade sheathed too long.
One day, I muse. One day I’ll destroy him and take this realm for myself.
Soon.
He scowls once more, then walks into the fireplace and vanishes. I follow him, stepping out in my bedroom—exhausted, sore, and ready for some restorative sleep. But first, I need to clean up.