Page 129 of These Fractured Bonds

“I would have thought you’d have trained her better.”

Tuom shrugged. “A miscalculation on my end.” He handed her a scroll. “Here are the terms. Make sure she doesn’t die in the final challenge.”

Allyah skimmed the scroll’s contents. Her voice hardened. “You propose staging an attack on Andhar?”

“We must separate her from your ex-fiancé. His presence is meddlesome; he has a ward on her now, keeping me from approaching her without alerting him. It’s distance-based. I need you to separate them so I may break it.”

She leveled a cold stare at Tuom, saying, “If I agree to this, youwilluphold your end of the bargain. After all, it’smycitizens I’m risking.”

Tuom smiled, sipping his coffee before responding. “Of course.”

“I’ll send a message.” Allyah stood, her robe flitting behind her as she walked away.

“This is where he ended the engagement, isn’t it?” Tuom’s words froze Allyah in place. “How fitting that you take something from him in the same place he took something from you.”

“You know nothing of what you speak about,” Allyah replied coldly and left.

Tuom chuckled, and his laughter stayed with Yareli as the memory faded. She panted for breath, placing her hand on the wall.

Save yourself, Allyah’s words came back to her. She had known what was awaiting Yareli and had mocked her. Any admiration and respect Yareli had for her dissipated. Fury rose. Yareli should have known better than to trust a snake that had bitten her once already. She was disgusted by how easily those in power had traded her around as if she were nothing.

And now, the coup that threatened the human world had begun. Those same powerful Fae were poised to invade her world and trade humans like cattle. She ground her teeth in frustration. Even with her newfound power, she had barely overpowered Tuom, and he was one of many strong enemies. Weni chimed in.

What you need is power.

“Shut up,” Yareli said. She was tired of being told what to do.

Then, become the one everyone answers to.

That gave her pause—Weni was right. Yareli wanted to laugh; she had spent so long debating the morality of power, about her rage, but she had failed to consider one thing—the powerful gave no fucks about the weak like her. Why should she give a fuck about their lives? She would take what she was owed.

Weni echoed her sentiment, saying,Claim what’s yours. Go to the palace.

Yareli retreated from Tuom’s mind.

Returning to awareness in her own body was a jolting experience. Gravity pulled her down, making her movements feel sluggish. Tuom still struggled against his restraints; his face, red from exertion, was contorted by fury. She straightened momentarily, cracking her neck, and stepped on him as shebent down. She smirked, drawing a dagger from nothing—compressing magic into a tangible object—and plunged it into his side, between two ribs, stopping short of his heart.

“You don’t seem to understand.” She pressed her foot harder until he groaned in pain. “This was meant for me.”

He laughed, surprising her. “You’re a fool. In time, you will realize what I offered was a mercy. You will never be the same.”

Yareli raised her lip in disgust, tired of his cryptic sentences that meant nothing to her.

“Change happens much faster for humans. I’m not afraid of it anymore.”

His laughter was cut short by the sickening sound of gurgling liquid; the bleeding had reached his lungs.

“Fool. You may kill me, but they will come for you.”

“Let them come. I’ll kill them all,” she spat.

Yareli twisted the dagger. His laughter ceased, his body convulsing. His eyes zeroed in on hers; hatred gleamed in them, hardening them like coal. She held his stare as life drained out of him, holding the weight of his death in her hands. The curse lifted off of her, the chain on her life force dissipating into nothingness.

His eyes, already cloudy, remained fixed on her as though his hatred had transcended death and promised to haunt her forever. Disbelief at the scene before her held her captive.He was dead.One glance told her Bri was unharmed and still unconscious. She collapsed then, falling onto her hands and knees.Dead. He was dead.

Vomit rose hard and quick, and she emptied her stomach acid onto the floor, splashing the corpse beside her. Her arms shook, and her wounds bled, dripping fat droplets of blood on the floor, mixing with her vomit. She clenched her hands, dragging her nails across the floor. She had done it; she had killed el hijo de puta. Another wave of nausea rocked her body.

She told herself it was because of the strain she had put her body through. Her magic was depleted, raw just like that time during the second challenge. He haddeservedto die.