Page 226 of Starside

The blood drains from my face, and with it, any desire to pretend. “The God of Death … is coming here?”

“For you,” he says. “He seems quite interested in you … perhaps more than the other gods.” He smiles. “I’m sure he’ll make great use of you.”

Use. I don’t plan to be used by anyone.

The blacksmith bows before his lord and—with a regretful look at me—exits the room. He leaves the door behind me open. The snake. The Great Betrayer. He’s certainly fucking earned that name. Why did I think he would help me? Why did I trust him at all?

A shred of empathy breaks through the fury, though. He’s protecting his son. Stellan would have done the same for me.

And maybe he’s allowed me a chance at an exit.

I stare at the open door with a flint of hope. I could make a run for it … but they’ll just follow.

No, I won’t run. And I won’t sit around and wait for the God of Death to arrive.

This is what I’ve been training for. Why I’ve been strengthening my muscles and working on my form and practicing with Raker. I unsheathe my sword in a flash of sparkling silver. Lord Rodin’s eyes glimmer with greed as he studies it.

“An unmatched blade. Perhaps he’ll let me keep it.”

I don’t even waste my breath on a response as I swing my metal at his head, using another position I’ve practiced countless times before.

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t reach with immortal speed toward his own weapon. He just … smiles.

And my steel stops just short of his neck.

What? It froze, without my order. I lurch forward, arms straining, hands gripping the hilt, trying to move, groaning with the effort—

But my blade doesn’t give an inch.

Lord Rodin’s laugh echoes through the forge. His voice is dripping in superiority. “You took an oath on your sword, stupid human. You can’t kill me.” He turns to motion toward his knights. “You can’t hurt any of my men. Not while you’re a guest.”

It doesn’t seem like that safety measure extends in the opposite direction.

Those knights inch forward, blades drawn. Lord Rodin’s own freshly sharpened sword glimmers beside him.

My arms tremble, trying to break free from the oath’s iron hold. But they can’t.

And that’s when I realize how fucked I am. I’m deep below an ancient Great House on Starside. I’m standing in front of an heir, surrounded by a dozen immortal warriors, each outfitted with massive swords that I can’t even attempt to deflect. The God of Death is on his way here, to collect my head himself.

There’s nowhere to run. No escape. No getting out of this.

The immortal warriors have me cornered. I’m surrounded.

And I might as well be weaponless.

“Your sword is useless here,” the immortal lord confirms, eyes lit with nothing short of smug delight as a dozen blades close in around me. Then—

“Mine isn’t.”

That voice, dark and unyielding as this castle’s obsidian walls, comes from right behind me. The immortal’s eyes widen. His army turns with their immortal speed toward a new target.

They’re too late.

As if time has slowed to a crawl, I watch as Raker hurls his glorious sword into the air.

And that blade spins, starting at the first guard that has me surrounded, then cutting off immortal head after immortal head, body after body dropping at my feet. One after the other, in rapid succession, they fall. They all fall.

He kills every single one of them.