Slowly, the forms of at least a hundred fae soldiers came into view. A chill snaked up Ursula’s spine. Each soldier held a pike, aimed at them. They weren’t in the hall; they were outside somewhere, on some sort of wooden platform.
She started to raise her sword, but Bael grabbed her wrist, pushing it down. This was not a fight they were going to win.
The mist continued to dissipate. Beyond the soldiers, tips of trees became visible in the clearing air. Where were they? Ursula glanced down and her knees almost buckled as a wave of vertigo hit her. Apparently they were standing on a platform of branches woven together like the nest of a giant bird. Through the branches, she could make out the dark form of an enormous tree trunk—and beyond that, nothing. Just darkness. Ursula had a suspicion that Oberon’s hall was buried somewhere far, far below them.
The king’s voice came from behind them. “What was it you desired to ask me?”
Ursula spun around, her gaze landing on Oberon, who sat on a wooden throne carved into the form of a kneeling stag, its antlers forming his seat. He wore a silver robe, and a small circlet of gold in his pale hair. A golden satchel lay at his feet.
“Is it true that you’ve struck a deal with a whelp of Nyxobas?” Bael demanded, as if he was in a position to demand things.
“I am a hundred thousand years old, as old as the earthly gods,” said Oberon. “I should have the power of a god.” He flicked his fingers and the guards moved to flank them, keeping their pikes trained on Bael.
“And you think Abrax will grant you that?” His voice dripped with disdain.
“He’s pledged his loyalty to me. We will lead his brethren out of the darkness and into the light. Abrax and I will rule the mortal realm together.”
On cue, Abrax stepped from between a pair of soldiers to stand by Oberon’s side. Ursula’s breath caught, as an icy chill constricted her chest. She remembered how Abrax’s claws had carved chunks of flesh from her legs. He’d tried to murder her—twice.
“Give me my wings,” Bael roared, and the platform beneath them trembled. Ursula clamped her hands to her ears, the sound sending a rush of pure fear through her bones. God, he was terrifying.
In front of them the pikes of the fae soldiers quivered and shook like reeds in a storm.
“You can scream all you want, but your wings are mine,” said Oberon, his eyes sliding to the golden satchel. From within, he drew two pieces of skin.
Ursula grimaced. What the fuck is wrong with these people? Blood dripped from between Oberon’s fingers. She strained her eyes, just making out a tattooed design on the strips of skin: golden wings. Those were Bael’s wings? Yuck.
“If you damage my wings, I will tear your spine through your throat.” Bael didn’t scream this time, but pure venom laced his voice, and somehow, it was worse than his roar.
Oberon ignored Bael, holding the skin higher. “These wings are a direct conduit to the magic of Nyxobas.” The soldiers cheered again. “With their power, we will no longer need to conceal ourselves in this realm. With their power, we will rule the mortals.”
Abrax stepped forward. “Are you ready to receive them?”
“I am.”
“Good. I want Bael to watch.”
Ursula wasn’t sure what was happening, but her stomach turned.
Oberon let his robe drape off his back, exposing his skin in the moonlight. From behind him, Abrax drew a thin dagger from his jacket. The king bowed his head.
“Get away from my wings.” Bael boomed, the timbre of his voice shaking her.
Oberon turned his head to address his soldiers. “If the fallen demon speaks again, incinerate him.” The soldiers began to weave the ends of their pikes through the air, magic hissing and sizzling at their tips. Ursula’s heart raced. This had not turned out well.
Next to her Bael stood, his entire body rigid with tension. She could tell that it took every ounce of his willpower not to charge forward.
Abrax held the dagger over Oberon’s back. “Prepare yourself to join the kingdom of Nyxobas,” he solemnly intoned.
“I am ready for the power of the night god.”
Abrax’s dagger glinted in the moonlight. Then, like a silver meteor, it plunged into the center of Oberon’s back.
Chapter 41
Oberon threw back his head, screaming in agony. As the king slumped, Abrax grabbed him in his arms. Ursula felt an icy chill ripple through the air as the incubus drained Oberon’s soul.
For a moment, the fae soldiers stood transfixed, as if they weren’t sure if this was all part of the process, until Oberon’s limp body tumbled to the ground.
“Get down,” said Bael, pulling Ursula to the floor and shielding her with his arms. Above their heads, the pikes unleashed their magic like a thousand lightning bolts.
For few moments it was eerily silent, until a voice cried out, “The king is dead!”
Ursula lifted her head. Abrax stood by the throne, Bael’s “wings” clutched in a bloody hand, the body of the king at his feet. Fae soldiers circled him, their pikes ready.