Page 85 of The Shard and the Serpent (Shard Daughters #1)

Less Empty

Rayze

Saltmaw tilts as I leap. I hit the ground, and rain slams down in sudden fury. Dirt turns instantly to black sludge under my boots.

Beyond me, the field lies under drifting mist and light drizzle, but here the downpour is a solid wall, drenching everything in moments.

Water sheets off my coat. Mud splashes high with every step. The air itself seems to tighten and darken around me, heavy with the promise of lightning.

In it, I feel Fate. I feel my power.

Rigged soldiers turn as I advance, their metal-plated bodies gleaming slick with rain. Orange Brass smoke coils low, rolling around their ankles, thickening with every cannon blast behind their lines.

I inhale hard. The Brass burns in my lungs like fire and I let it. Power licks through my veins, stoking the storm harder.

A Rigged swings at me.

I draw an arrow, pulling the storm into it, the shaft crackling with raw light. It punches through the vents lining his neck, sending him sprawling in the mud, limbs jerking.

Thick orange plumes sting my eyes, but I feed on it.

Threads of Fate glow across the field. I reach out and—“ Drop ,” I command.

Three Rigged drop mid-charge, crashing face-first into the sludge.

I spin, arrow drawn again. The bowstring bites my fingers.

Above me, Saltmaw hovers low, sails rippling, ready to answer any command. Its coils glow orange in the gloom, reflecting the Brass below.

I sense the ship. It’s in my head like a second voice. Not words, but intent. Hunger. Willingness. When I breathe in Brass, I feel it burn in Saltmaw’s engines, too. When I tighten my grip on my bow, the cannons above shift, tracking with my focus.

We’re tethered. Even here in the mud, I can feel the ship wanting to kill for me. Waiting for me to ask.

As if we’re Bonded .

I smile.

“Let’s clean them out,” I rasp, my voice ragged with smoke.

Its cannons swivel, groaning with tension before firing in perfect unison. The blasts tear through ranks of The Rigged, bodies flung aside in arcs of mud and blood. The recoil rattles the air, sending shivers through the ground beneath me.

I run. Boots pound wet. Rain lashes my face like needles.

Shapes move within walls of Brass—The Rigged pushing forward, hacking down anyone in their path.

A child breaks from cover, stumbling. A Rigged soldier swings for him without hesitation.

I pull. “NO,” I growl.

Threads twist and snap. The soldier’s body jerks, locked up. The kid dives away, rolling in the mud as the Rigged collapses.

My fingers flex, pulling power from the swirling smoke. I drive it into my next shot. My arrow blazes orange as it flies, slamming through neck after neck, bursting between Rigged in a spray of heat and light.

Saltmaw growls overhead, chains creaking, sails flexing like a creature awakening from a deep slumber.

I raise my hand and flick my fingers.

Cannons fire again, timed with my pulse.

The storm thickens around me, rain falling so hard the mud surges in waves at my feet. My hair clings to my cheeks, soaked, plastered with blood.

Then I whip over bodies and latch to gravity, flying into the air and soaring back onto Saltmaw, the canvas of its dark sails kissing my skin as I close my eyes, letting the storm sink into the deepest parts of myself.

Warrick

The Rigged advance in heavy lines, eyes glassy, movements stiff but unyielding. Weapons rise and fall with mechanical precision. I meet one head-on, blades crossing in a jarring clash.

But another slams into me.

My arms burn, muscles shaking with the strain to hold him back. He towers over me, blank-eyed, blade rising.

My vision sears.

Black cracks spread like shattered glass.

Color drains from the realm in a sucking rush. Orange smoke fades to ash grey. Blood turns black in the mud. The lines of reality split. Threads shudder and warp. Shadows crawl from the seams, hungry, twisting.

Static crackles over my skin, black, pulsing strings crawling over my knuckles and dancing along the Serpent blades. The air bends, edges fraying like scorched paper.

I reach for the dark, and I know as I do that I’m choosing a new Fate. A path unwritten. This power, it feels opposite to Rayze’s in every way. There’s nothing bright about it.

A void.

It pours into me like freezing water, pools into my lungs. For a heartbeat I choke on it. Then I push it out.

“Stop,” I growl.

The air tightens, and Fate’s veil splits around The Rigged soldier like tearing fabric. Black fissures spider across the space between us, jagged and writhing. Shadows pour from those cracks, coiling around his limbs like chains.

He jerks once, frozen in place.

Shadows drag at his arms and legs, pulling them at impossible angles, cracking metal and bone with slow, deliberate force. Black light seeps from the seams in his frame, pulsing like a dying heartbeat.

For a moment his eyes flicker with awareness—blank horror trapped in his grotesquely manufactured body—before the void devours him completely.

He collapses inward with a muffled, wet crunch, limbs folding like paper, shadows swallowing the shape of him until there’s nothing left but twisted wreckage in the mud.

Around me the effect ripples.

Rigged jerk mid-charge. Eyes roll back. Shadows burst from their steel joints in ragged flares before they drop boneless into the mud.

The ground shivers. The rain warps, slanting at broken angles before straightening.

My blades vibrate with the backlash. My teeth ache from clenching. Color bleeds back in slow, seeping waves. Orange smoke, red blood, dark mud.

But the power doesn’t leave me. It crouches in my ribs, waiting for permission to go again.

Rayze

My boots sink deep in the mud, water sloshing around my ankles, rain pouring so hard it flattens smoke to the ground.

The Rigged keep coming. Broken, battered, but relentless.

Sparks crackle across my skin, starlight and lightning coursing in never ending waves through my veins.

I raise one shaking, bloodied hand. “ Rise ,” I breathe.

Every arrow I fired tonight lifts from the mud and corpses, dripping rain and gore, shafts splitting with crackling blue light. They lift behind me in a wide, jagged fan, floating on invisible strings.

My other hand lifts. “Come.”

The wind swirls around me.

The storm twists.

Lightning arcs from cloud to cloud, flashing so bright it turns the entire field stark black and white. Saltmaw trails my every step as I prowl across the battlefield. The ship releases a guttural groan, sails snapping, its hull flaring with electricity.

I close my fingers into a fist.

The Rigged halt.

Their weapons lower.

Their heads twitch.

“Die.” My voice echoes through the wind, my grief a swollen, tortured thing caressing my rage. “ Die .”

Threads scream in my vision, unraveling all at once. The Rigged seize, bodies convulsing as they turn their weaponry on themselves.

Blood sprays in black arcs against the orange glow of dying Brass.

“Release,” I whisper.

My arrows launch, a hailstorm of light and wrath. They punch through any Rigged still moving, pinning bodies to the sucking mud.

Silence.

My heart thunders. My limbs shake. Slowly, I lower my arms, breath ragged.

Then all across the night, cheers erupt.

My eyes search the chaos. I don’t dare smile, not until I know he is alive . “Warrick!” I shout, shouldering through celebrating citizens. Serpents and Skin, Chrome Guard and civilians—there’s no difference, every one of them laughing, crying, yelling.

I push and push, my vision stuttering out of Fate’s veil so I can focus more on passing faces. I make a slow circle, forcing myself to look to the ground, too.

To the corpses.

He’s alive , I promise myself, chewing on my lip before a wide smile breaks across my face when I see him.

His shoulders heaving, rain washing away the blood coating him, Warrick shoves his mask up, his brows drawn as he shouts my name into the night. He looks between Saltmaw and the battlefield until finally his eyes find mine.

Warrick

She stands among bodies, and neither of us can move. I can sense the fear between us. The want to be close and the knowledge that every other attempt seems to rip us apart.

But my power—it reaches.

My hand runs over my chest, my palm smearing blood over my heart.

It beats harder and harder as the Voids of Fate swim in soft whorls toward my angel.

Behind the veil, she’s stunning . Starlight glimmers across her always, her green eyes a glowing white and her smile brighter than the Godsdamn sun.

She must slip beyond mortality, too, her chest dipping with a sharp inhale as she feels my power seeking hers.

Both of us stiffen, our eyes locked as threads weave between our guts.

A Bond.

Not one commanded but one presented.

It plaits itself loose as if the knots won’t tighten without our permission.

As if we have a choice.

Scared, snake? an angel whispers through my skull.

My blades fall from my hands. My lips part with a ragged breath. Her voice in my head—My eyes burn. There’s nothing more right.

Of you, my angel? I send along the Bond, the very act warming my chest. Always.

Rayze’s smile breaks wider, the widest I’ve ever seen. For the first time in thirteen years, she looks like Hallie.

But she falters, her happiness traded for uncertainty.

Damn it. This woman.

Wipe that doubt away , I tell her.

Warrick , she says, hugging her bow to her chest. I bound you to myself once.

I won’t do it again. Not unless you come willingly to me.

I feel her intake of breath, the way she’s trying to find the right words.

Cross this field, and I’ll never question us.

I swear it. But if you want to leave, I won’t stop you. I’ll let you go, my snake.

My Gods. How can she think I’d leave?

To love her? To let myself break apart and become something less empty—a vessel for her to fill with her hatred? I accept the challenge.

The next time she comes, she will know.

L—a hook of my finger. O—the shape of her mouth with each careful ministration. V—my teeth against her inner thigh. E—the arch of her back when she screams my name. To watch all that tightly wound vengeance become placated and mine. I need it. I need her.

I cross the field with no purpose but to defile her, to mark every inch of her skin with my declaration. It takes seconds for her eyes to widen, for her lips to part in surprise.

Already opening for me. I shudder and latch my hand around her head and into her hair, dragging her body into mine until my mouth slams to hers. Good girl.

Her hand tightens around my throat. My woman . Her nails claw through my hair, the moan that leaves her setting me hard.

“My Rayze,” I breathe between her lips, and I’ve never been so sure of a name. The feel of it in my mouth is ecstasy.

She draws back, her eyes wide as she searches my face. We stare and stare, our silence like a bound rope writhing to life between us. Then—soft and small and everything —“You came,” she whispers.

I tug her into my chest, my arms wrapping protectively around her. I dip my lips to her ear, a smile yanking at my mouth. “And now you will.”

A laugh bubbles out of her but it dies quickly, her green eyes dark with uncertainty.

“Rayze.” I pinch her chin. “I choose you—for whatever that’s worth.”

Rayze

“Are you sure?” I whisper.

Warrick cups my face. “Yes. Gods, vicious. Yes .”

“Fated to win. Destined to strike,” I say, grasping him, desperate to hold onto him in this life and the next. “But sometimes the strike is against ourselves,” I whisper. “Sacrifice is essential to a Daughter’s cause. We give up everything to seek revenge and keep the realm safe.”

I pull back gently and shake my head. “Warrick, you need to know that you’re not choosing a woman but a weapon, too.”

His eyes trace my face. His fingers tilt my head back, his lips skimming mine. “And I think you forget that’s the very reason I do love you.”

I kiss him gently. “I love you, too,” I say, my voice breaking.

The rain beating down on us, our city shining bright at our backs, my magic reaches tentatively toward his, brushes against the power growing in his gut.

Our foreheads press as we look down between us, Fate’s veil shimmering, all of the thousands of threads reaching tenderly between all that we are cinching tight .

I drag my gaze up to his, a smile lifting my face at the sight of his.

Warrick chuckles. Then he dips, his shoulder crashing into my gut.

I gasp as he throws me over him, his hand clutching my ass.

“Hey!” I slap my fists against his back with a laugh. “Put me down, asshole.”

He carries me toward the mountains, stepping over fallen Rigged. “Not a fucking chance, angel. We’re going home.”

Home . I press my cheek between his shoulder blades, listening to his heartbeat. “I want nothing more than to relax, my snake, but not yet.” My head thwacks against his back with his next step. “ Warrick .”

He laughs, stops, and puts me down, wrapping his arm over my shoulders as we walk toward the portal at the base of the mountains. “Fine.” He cocks a brow. “I don’t need a bed to fuck you. Lead the way, vicious.”

I look to Saltmaw, an ache throbbing deep within my bones.

“Where we’re going, we won’t be fucking,” I tell him, threading my fingers through his and turning back to face the portal.

“And where is this hell?” he asks, but the question lacks his playful tone.

I peer at his profile only to find him studying me, his steel-blue gaze filled with understanding.

“Rathem,” I say with a hard swallow.

He squeezes my hand. “Ruel?”

I lift my chin, my eyes narrowing on the darkness and stars waiting to devour us. “Ruel,” I agree. Then I grumble, “I fucking hate the beach.”

“Me, too. Probably for the same reasons.” He kisses the top of my head, the portal sparkling to life with stars. “Maybe it’s time for some new memories to erase those old ones.”

“Yeah?” I whisper.

He tugs me into the void’s embrace, our magic tugging affectionately between us, our new Bond growing every time our eyes meet. He flashes me that trademark, cheesy-as-fuck smile. “Fuck yeah.”