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Her words buzz over me but don’t penetrate. Not when my heart is being stalked by his enemy, his cousin, who clearly wants him dead. And he’s slowing down. Brosh lands a kick to Azazel’s chest and two swipes to his chest and shoulder. More blood paints the cobblestones. Only one person’s blood.
Brosh laughs and spreads his arms. “Is this your leader? He’s as weak as he’s made our territory. Pathetic.” He turns . . . and runs right into Azazel’s claws.
I gasp. The sound is lost in the midst of the crowd doing the same thing. Someone screams. A handful of people cheer.
Azazel appears tormented as he holds his cousin’s shoulder and shoves his claws deeper into Brosh’s stomach. Deeper and up . . . to rip out his heart. The man falls to the ground, dark eyes glassy with death. Azazel stares at the bloody heart in his claws and drops it on top of Brosh’s body.
As if sensing my gaze, he lifts his eyes to mine. There’s nothing of the man I’ve come to know so well, of the bargainer I love, there. Only emptiness.
Ramanu steps forward and raises their voice enough to be heard over those gathered. “The challenge has been issued, accepted, and completed. Brosh is dead. Azazel is victorious!”
This time, the cheers are loud enough to shake the very city.
Lenora squeezes my shoulder. “That’s about enough of that. Let’s get out of here.”
“Yeah,” I say numbly. It’s not even the death that’s rocked me this time. It’s the implication. Brosh is dead. Azazel managed to do it honorably, which removes the threat against me, once and for all. That means I can go back to my life. I can go home.
Too bad home has started to feel a whole lot like a magical castle and a giant bargainer who holds my heart.