Page 130 of Sharpest Court

“Perhaps,” I said, “you should be begging me, General.”

He chuckled deeply, darkly. “What could I possibly want from you?”

I looked pointedly to Erik’s man, whose blood gurgled from the gash in his throat. “A death as quick as his,” I said.

And this time, when I released my specter, I aimed it directly between Holden’s legs.

He flew backward with a choked grunt, and landed hard on his back. His knife fell from his grip, landing too far away for him to reach. He was still wide-eyed and spluttering as I stalked forward, my specter teeming in the air around me.

“You’re a—”

“Wielder?” I finished drily. “Yes, well done. I can certainly see how a smart man like you rose to power. And, you see, I too have lived in a community of highborns. They pandered to me, just as you did on my arrival. They bent to my whims and grappled for my favor.” I looked down at his prone body and cocked my head. “But I discovered that there was nothing I liked so much as the taste of their fear.”

I struck—a solid blow against his ribs—and heard the crack over the sound of Holden’s roar.

“Well, General? Will you offer the same plea you sought to wring out of me?”

He gasped for air, his face contorting with pain and anger. “I would never lower myself by begging a Wielder.”

I saw red, remembering how he’d smirked at Perla. So here you are, pet. Fetch.

So I struck him again—and again and again. For every time he’d mocked her these past weeks. Every time he’d made her flinch.

Every time she had wished to do this to him herself.

The sound of his anguish pierced the night as my hair streamed around my face. I was breathing hard, my specter lashing out in thick, pulsing tendrils, when I glimpsed the blond head in the distance.

My breath hitched as I caught Erik’s eyes. He stood on the deck of a boat, scratched up from his fall, simply watching me. Smiling.

I will ensure that there is blood on your hands before the night is out, he’d promised.

And here I was, exultant in my rage, prolonging the general’s suffering for no other reason than to satisfy myself. Here I was, acting exactly as the woman he’d always wanted me to be.

My throbbing power stuttered. I swallowed hard as Erik turned toward the boat’s hatch. And I knew: That was where I would find the Unbreakable Blade.

I can handle the king, I’d told Goren. I’d meant it.

I was just settling my fury, coming to my decision, when I saw Holden’s knife hurtling toward me. My specter burst out to meet it, but the blade sliced through my power.

And buried itself in my stomach.

The air left me in one long gust. Warmth blossomed across my blouse, but I didn’t feel the pain. I didn’t feel anything except a sprawling numbness as I looked toward Holden, whose snarling expression was laced with victory.

“Look at that,” he gritted out. “You really are just a stupid, arrogant—”

My specter gushed out, as hot and thick as the flow of my blood.

Holden’s head cracked back on his neck. He slumped backward, eyes still open.

I didn’t spare his corpse a second glance before I headed for the boat. Toward the Unbreakable Blade. Toward Erik.

With the knife’s hilt sticking out of me, shifting with every footfall, the climb was uncomfortable. Still, the violent hum of my energy dulled the worst of the pain as I reached the deck. Panting, I staggered through the hatch and into a cabin lined with weapons.

Erik was surveying the daggers at the far end, facing away from me, his hands clasped behind his back.

He hadn’t commanded any soldiers to stay and guard him. He was a fool.

“Stand down,” I rasped, one hand pressed to my wound. Blood trickled like warm oil between my fingers.