Page 57 of Ringmaster (The Kingdom of Shadow & Bone #1)

“What should I do with you, brother? How else shall I punish you for your actions against me and my mate?” Azrael’s voice is rough with anger.

“Send me back to imprisonment, I suppose. Or end me. Do you have what it takes to end me? Could you retaliate against me with the same fate we bestowed upon you, dear brother?” he spits spitefully.

I can hear Azrael swallow hard before he replies. “You know imprisonment isn’t an option. You’re far too dangerous and powerful. I can’t trust that you won’t turn against me again.”

“Do what you must, Shadow King, Prince of Hell. End me if you dare. But make it swift and stop lamenting.” The Ringmaster snarls in a challenge.

Magic explodes from Azrael. He releases his sprawling wings and lunges at the Ringmaster, dropping me to the ground in the process.

I whirl around to witness the clanging and clashing of ancient metal as they battle.

The Ringmaster moves with an impressive speed, but Azrael is faster.

He dodges every attack, tiring out his weakened opponent.

No sooner does the Ringmaster show signs of fatigue than Azrael goes on the offense. He swings his sword, narrowly missing as the Ringmaster twists out of reach. Rage sizzles off Azrael’s body, shooting down our connection, and overpowering my own thoughts.

A pit forms in my stomach, my jaw locking as I watch them battle. Azrael swings harder faster—giving the Ringmaster no chance to deflect the blow. At last, he spins, driving his sword into the Ringmaster’s heart.

Black liquid leaks from the wound as Azrael siphons it away.

“I’m sorry, brother. You’ve grown to be too dangerous.”

The Ringmaster screeches. “Wrath made me do it. Punish him, not me.”

Azrael twists the blade deeper, and the Ringmaster shudders, gargling before going still. Azrael removes the sword and kicks the carcass to the ground. Nothing but silence surrounds us.

“Is he gone?” I ask cautiously.

“For now, until he’s deemed worthy of returning,” he says, unafraid.

Azrael waves his hand, turning the Ringmaster to ash. He holds up a second vial, and the ash is carried by a single breeze into the glass bottle.

“You’ll be missed, brother. Until we meet again,” he says, tucking it in his pocket.

Azrael turns back to me, disheveled and beaming, his hand outstretched—waiting for mine to fit perfectly into his. We were made for one another. I don’t know how I know it, but I do.

“Come, my love. There is much to be done before our return.” His voice is soft, serious.

I step forward slowly at first, but in a heartbeat I’m sprinting to him.

When I crash into his arms, he wraps me tight as his wings fold closed, cocooning us in a shield of feathers.

My mouth lands against his, still unsure of what to make of everything, but certain of the only thing that matters—I love him. Fiercely. Entirely.

I love you too. Azrael’s voice pours through our bond—low, rough, and aching with truth. The declaration pulses in my chest an instant before he deepens the kiss, pulling me under with him.

He breaks our kiss first, pressing his forehead against mine, then brushing a kiss across it.

“Don’t let go,” he whispers, taking my hand.

In the blink of an eye, we vanish. I squeeze his hand tightly, breath hitching to ask what’s happening—only to gasp. Suddenly, we’re standing at the entrance to the castle in the Kingdom of Shadow and Bone.

***

Azrael waves his hand and fresh clothes replace the torn, bloodied ones. He looks radiant, as if freshly bathed—sweat and battle grime erased. His familiar emberleaf aroma wafts from him. I inhale deeply, letting it calm my nerves.

He strides through the castle like it belongs to him. Mage lights flare awake as guards drop to one knee upon our passing, heads bowed, swords lowered against the gleaming onyx floors. I wonder if they know who he truly is—or if a spell still clouds their minds.

“Where are we going?” I ask curiously as more guards kneel.

“Throne room.” His clipped response offers no room for questions as we continue our brisk stroll through the castle.

“Why?”

“You’ll see. Like I said, there’s quite a lot to do before we return.” Another cryptic answer.

Our footsteps echo into the vast throne room. At its center waits Azrael’s father.

“Beelzebub, brother,” Azrael greets as they embrace each other.

Brother? I thought this man was his father.

Azrael senses my confusion.

“The curse has broken, my love. All will be revealed soon enough. Have patience.”

“The others will arrive soon for the crowning ceremony. Before they do, I have one last gift for your mate.”

I glance to Azrael. “A gift? For me?”

He nods.

“Quickly, follow me to the crypts,” Beelzebub commands, motioning us on.

At the thrones, he waves his hand over a stone wall. It slides open to reveal a spiraling passage descending into darkness. Without hesitation, Azrael follows, and I cast one last uncertain look before trailing after them.

Down deep below the castle we go, sweat dripping steadily from my body, the heat thick and suffocating. Each breath is a struggle, and my legs burn with every step, threatening to give out.

“We’re almost there,” Azrael’s deep voice whispers through our bond, sensing my exhaustion.

I don’t reply. I’m far too focused on placing one foot carefully in front of the other, afraid a misstep will send me tumbling to the bottom.Azrael doesn’t have to speak; I know he would never allow harm to touch me. Yet even his protection cannot shield me from destiny.

Finally, we reach the bottom. The space opens wide, the ceiling disappears into black, bone-like columns rising to support it. I exhale a shaky sigh of relief, leaning against the cool stone wall, letting my burning skin meet its relief.

The catacombs are hauntingly beautiful. At the center lies a large ritual space with a black stone dais, thrumming with unfamiliar magic pulsating from it like a living heartbeat.

My own power rises in a protective response, and the runes on my dagger hilts glittering, ready.

Every hair on my body stands on end as the dark presence sweeps over me, probing my soul, testing the shields I had so carefully maintained.

I resist the intrusion at first, fighting to push it out, refusing to submit to its power. I won’t let you hurt either of us. Turn back, or I’ll have no choice but to end you. I hurl the words through my mind and watch as they attach to the shadow-steeped threat.

It cackles, a shrill, high-pitched shriek.

I’d like to see you try and end me, dear one.

For I am older than time itself. I have no intention of harming you.

” The laughter curls around my mind, mocking yet amused by my boldness.

I only seek to test your identity and your worthiness to receive the gift I protect. ”

I’m sorry, ancient one. I didn’t mean to threaten you. I lower my shields, letting the presence flow through me, allowing its scrutiny without resistance.

It touches every part of my soul, spreading a tingling numbness over my body.

My knees buckle, and I clutch the wall to keep from collapsing.

Then, just as suddenly, it withdraws. The pressure is gone, leaving only the cool, dank air against my sweat-drenched skin.

My lungs fill with oxygen greedily, the weakness fading from my muscles.

I glance around, taking in the catacombs, they hum with a power I’ve never felt before.

The ritual space is encircled by tunnels, branching into an intricate web, pulsing like a living force.

At the center, the dais waits—ominous, patient, as though it knows what’s to come.

The walls are lined with souls sealed in glass votives, each one glowing faintly, illuminating the path.

Magic thrums beneath my feet, interlaced in the stones themselves.

Every slab is inscribed with a rune—the level of detail is impressive.

I can’t help but marvel at it all. Small clues reveal themselves through the ancient voice that whispers in my head, bestowing fragments of its knowledge upon me.

“Here, power sleeps until called. Each soul you see is no mere mortal. Gods, demons, witches, and ancient supernatural beings await a new destiny… This is the marrow of the kingdom. Every stone is bound in blood and sacrifice. The souls wait, not for death’s end, but for rebirth—a second forging.”

“The dais remembers every cut of a blade, every oath spoken. Only blood opens the way as sacrifice seals it shut. Power is never given, only traded—life for life, breath for breath. Do you fear bleeding, Celestial One? Even gods bled here, when thrones were forged.”

“Your soul hums like a star created for shadow. You’re not a guest here.

You’re one of us. May you never fear the darkness again, allowing it only to bring you comfort and strength.

Lucifer’s echo walks again. You were carved for him before breath touched your lips.

The throne will not break you. Not when you were made to balance it.

It’s yours as much as his to rule as equals. ”

“To command death, you must first be willing to touch it. Are you? Necromancy is no spell. It’s a bond. The dead will answer because you’ll listen. Life and death are not enemies. The living fear death because they don’t understand it. But you will.”

Mercy, Azrael calls, bursting through my thoughts.

I trudge toward him, toward his brother, toward the dais that waits like an omen. A grave look is plastered on Azrael’s face, but he stares at me with unwavering love. I’ve never seen such worry shadow him.

“My angel—my darling—my love,” he rasps. “Will you accept my gift, and agree to rule by my side forever?”

I know I should refuse. There’s no going back if I do. But I love him fiercely. I would endure anything to spend eternity by his side. He’s my savior—always—whether he wants to admit it or not.

“Always, my love,” I reply, allowing his intense stare capture me, rendering me helpless.