Page 97 of Hellbound

Ksenia’s walk was evenly paced as she approached, and his gaze dropped momentarily to a mark beneath her jawline, shamelessly on display. His handiwork from the other night, right before she tried to drive her dagger through his neck.

Tivan’s thumbs were tucked into his pants pockets as he strode forward with wide, confident steps. He wore a saffron-yellow ensemble this evening, giving a nod to a stern nobleman in the rafters. Ksenia took another brief look at the balconies and saw no eagle-eyed woman staring back.

“Welcome to the final challenge. A duel to the death—to settle who will become the Sevrant.” Bohdan’s eyes cut from Tivan and lingered a beat too long on Ksenia. “You’re permitted to use anything you find in this room.”

Find?

Ksenia’s gaze swept the space with renewed interest. The room was large and bare, its wooden-planked floor covered with a thin layer of dirt. Every surface was flecked with dried blood, including the walls. Above, a dizzying lattice of chains crisscrossed through pulleys and levers.

“Oh?” Tivan’s crooked smile sharpened. “So you don’t intend for me to choke her to death with my bare hands.”

Bohdan shrugged. “The winning conditions are your opponent’s head.”

Ksenia’s lip curled with disgust. Karsan’s tastes had always been foul.

Tivan slithered his tongue over his teeth. “More than fine by me.”

A bitter smell wafted into the room.

Archbishop Serafin stepped over the threshold, swinging an incensed thurible at his side. Foul, spiced smoke wafted from the metal cutout, making people’s eyes water. He wore a tall, stiff cap that blended in with his pallid skin, elongating his face. His eyes were deep and sunken, covered by papery-thin eyelids, through which Ksenia could still see his pupils as he blinked slowly.

Long black robes dragged on the ground, lined in crimson. His bony fingers were like dead spiders, clutching obsidian beads and a medallion that he rolled over his knuckles as he circled the two combatants, bidding their souls to part in peace should they die.

Ksenia knew better than to think a little smoke would make the vengeful dead pass quietly.

“Nervous, Kitten?” Tivan’s oily smile and greasy hair complemented his shiny, balding head. His eyes were dancing over her form. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick and merciful.”

“Go fuck yourself,” she spat back.

The cheering and hollering from the rafters above grew deafening as Ksenia and Tivan were herded to opposite ends of the room.

Bohdan’s gaze lingered on her again as he followed Serafin to the exit.

Ksenia felt blood prickling hot beneath her skin.

The doors sealed with a hush.

For one moment, neither combatant moved.

There, urged Vornaya when Ksenia’s gaze caught a slight depression in the floor.

Her heel sank against the seam barely visible beneath the silt.

Overhead, chains whirred.

The wall cracked open on her right, revealing a broadsword… directly in front of Tivan.

Fuck.

He tossed it from hand to hand with a broad grin. “I guess I’ll be drawing first blood.”

Then, he came at her with the fluidity of a whip.

The wooden railing above groaned under the weight of spectators leaning and jeering.

He forced her backward with wide slashing cuts, a crazed gleam in his eye.

The wall behind you.