“Your king was weak. It is better that his soul join Nyxobas in his kingdom of eternal night.”
“Avenge the king!” the soldiers shouted, shooting another round of magic. It didn’t seem to touch Abrax, who glided closer to the throne. He chanted in Angelic, moving fluidly in a swirl of black tendrils.
Bael rose, pulling Ursula to her feet with an iron grip. “Get your sword ready.”
Dark mist rose around them again, churning and twisting like a maelstrom. In the center of the vortex, a small figure appeared. With child-like proportions and an innocent face, it could have been a cherub—a theory that was immediately invalidated when it leapt onto a nearby soldier and began tearing the flesh off his face with sharpened teeth. The vortex whirled faster, and more and more of the horrific cherubs appeared, attacking the soldiers with inhuman speed.
Bael pulled her close, shielding her again. “First we kill the Oneiroi. You must move quickly to defeat them. Then, we get my wings.” He released her, and with a bone-trembling battle cry, he charged at Abrax.
Ursula gripped Honjo, her gaze darting around as she tried to figure out what to do. A few feet from her, a soldier writhed on the ground, one of the Oneiroi attached to his head like a leech. Honjo effortlessly sliced the creature from the fae’s scalp.
A blur of movement at the edge of her vision warned her that an Oneiroi was coming her way. She ducked, and as the demon passed over her head she cut her sword upward. Hot ichor splashed in her face. It smelled terrible, like sour milk. Gagging, she wiped it from her eyes.
Hopping to her feet, she spied Bael fighting through a group of the demons. She ran to him, cutting through the necks of two more Oneiroi. This time, she managed to avoid drenching herself in their juices.
Bael carved through them with the stunning grace of a seasoned warrior, his sword swirling effortlessly through the dark mist. Each one of his movements was precise, calculated, no energy wasted—and with each stroke he dispatched another Oneiroi, until the last of their bodies lay on the platform. He’d hardly even needed her help. He turned to Ursula, pale eyes focusing over her shoulder. “Duck.”
She crouched, glancing up just in time to watch Bael decapitate another Oneiroi above her head. The little demons were fast, but predictable. They went straight for the throat.
She straightened, and Bael lowered his sword. “That’s all of them.”
She turned to see the once-orderly platform strewn with Oneiroi corpses, and her heart clenched. She knew they were monsters, but dead, they looked like children. Among them lay the bodies of dead and injured fae warriors. Other fae scrambled around, shouting confused orders to search for the incubus. Blood soaked the woven branches, giving the platform the appearance of the nest of a bird of prey.
“Where is Abrax?” she asked.
Bael inclined his head, leading her to the throne, and he pointed to the floor. The wood before the throne opened into a stairwell that led down into the tree’s trunk. Carved from wood, it was narrow, big enough for only one man at a time. This passage must have been Oberon’s private entrance to his high court.
Bael started in and Ursula followed. He had to crouch, his broad shoulders brushing the walls. Ursula had a bit more room, but not enough to hold Honjo unsheathed. With Bael in the lead, she was probably safe, but she kept a hand on her dagger’s hilt.
They passed a few corridors that led off into darkness, Bael sniffing at each before continuing downward. Her thighs burning, Ursula lost track of how many flights they descended. As the adrenaline from the fight wore off, the tension returned to her shoulders. They were going straight to Abrax. She’d seen what the incubus could do. Hopefully, Bael had some sort of plan, though she wasn’t getting the impression he was particularly cautious.
“This way,” he said suddenly, turning into a dark passage. She could just barely make out the shapes of doorways in the dark wood hall. Bael stopped, and Ursula bumped into his back.
“Don’t make any noise,” he whispered.
“I wasn’t—”
Bael’s hand covered her mouth, another strong arm wrapped around her stomach. Somehow, he’d slipped behind her in the darkness. That shadowy movement thing he did was extremely unnerving.
“He’s in there,” he whispered into her ear, giving absolutely no indication which door he’d meant. He released her.
Before she could ask him which room he meant, he was in front of her again ripping open the door with a splintering crack. Apparently, his whole plan was to charge in. She followed, drawing Honjo from her sheath.
Chapter 42