Forbidden Craving: The Nymph King / The Beautiful Ashes

Broderick frowned. “What of your other armor?”

“No.”

Valerian hefted his spear in one hand, his shield in the other, and stepped into the arena.

“Shall we begin?”

“We shall.”

Determined, he circled Joachim. “You will forever be an example of what happens to those who challenge my rule.”

“Is this the part where I taunt you back?” Joachim continued to swing his spear.

“I’d hoped it would be the part where you listened to reason. You are too war-happy to be king.”

Eyes narrowing, his cousin said, “Such a quality should be lauded.”

“Lauded? When the hunger will never be appeased? In the end, you might conquer all of Atlantis, but you will also destroy the entire city.”

“Better to rule a decimated land than no land at all.”

“That. That is why you are unfit. You don’t see the foolishness of your words.”

“I’m no fool!” With a roar, Joachim leaped at him. Valerian met him halfway. He’d told Shaye he would handle this quickly, and he would.

Their spears clashed together midair. Immediately Valerian countered, ducking low, pivoting and slashing. He missed as Joachim sliced to the side. Clang. Their spears met again. In the next instant, Joachim raised his lance and Valerian rammed it high. He spun, aiming for his cousin’s neck.

Joachim darted out of the way with a grin. “Getting slow, Valerian.” He removed his helmet and tossed it aside.

Valerian stabbed forward, his spike and shield swinging simultaneously. Joachim quickly lost his smile as he was forced to duck. He stumbled backward. Valerian’s spear nearly sank into his stomach, but Joachim blocked, swung. Thrust.

That low thrust grazed Valerian’s thigh, slicing cloth rather than skin. Valerian dropped to one knee, absorbing the next blow with his shield. When he regained his footing, he lunged forward. The tip of his weapon whizzed past Joachim’s side, taking a hunk of armor with it.

“Still think I’m slow?” Valerian asked.

Their fiery gazes met, blue against bluer, and Joachim scowled. He swung to the left, missed, then swung to the right. As the lance dipped toward the ground, Valerian leaped over its middle, trapping it between his legs and jamming his elbow into Joachim’s nose. Blood squirted and Joachim howled as he tripped, falling away from striking distance and flinging dirt in every direction.

“Get up,” Valerian commanded.

“You’ll pay for that.” His cousin jumped to his feet and ran straight at him, continuously stabbing forward.

Valerian circled on swift feet, his shield blocking. His muscles began to burn, and sweat began to run down his face and chest in rivulets. Already his breath emerged in shallow pants. At this rate, his strength would be rapidly depleted. Lack of sex did that to a nymph.

Looking tired himself, Joachim arched high, intending to puncture his shoulder on the downward swing, but Valerian hit Joachim’s wrist and his cousin dropped the spear. At a disadvantage, Joachim dived, rolled and reached for it. His fingers closed around the middle. Maintaining a fluid pace, he spun back to his feet. But Valerian was already there, stomping on the lance and snapping it in two.

Growling low in his throat, Joachim kicked up. His foot slammed into Valerian’s wrist and Valerian, too, lost his spear. Both men sprang apart, unsheathing the swords centered in their shields.

As blood continued to drip down his face, Joachim launched forward, wildly swinging. Air whistled, zinged, just like it had before the battle began. Movements slower than normal, Valerian didn’t duck in time. The blade sliced his forearm. He felt the sting of it, the burn of torn flesh.

He didn’t give a reaction, didn’t allow it to slow him further.

He stabbed low, then up, twisting before Joachim could counter. The tip of his sword whizzed by his cousin’s face, and the man paled. He raised his shield and slammed it into Valerian’s other arm, the sharp wings cutting skin. Valerian used the momentum to spin and slice into Joachim’s thigh.

His cousin shouted, and his knees buckled into the sand.

“Get up,” Valerian snarled. “We finish this.”

Gritting his teeth, Joachim lumbered to his feet. He still clutched his weapon and shield. His eyes were dark with rage, his irises bright with his thirst for power; he dropped his shield and slid a second dagger from his side.

Valerian hurled his shield aside, as well. He held out his free hand, and Broderick tossed him a second dagger. He easily caught the hilt. Two blades against two blades.

Instantly he and Joachim leaped for each other. One blade clashed, then the other, a lethal dance of dodge and slash. Valerian spun as he worked his blades, lunged and stabbed.

“I should have killed your father. I should have been king,” Joachim panted as he ducked.

“But you didn’t. You aren’t.” Stab. Turn. Stab.

“I was created to rule.”

“How can you rule an army when you cannot rule your own emotions?” The first blade finally slammed home, sinking into Joachim’s side.

His cousin screamed and dropped to his knees. Valerian’s momentum kept him from drawing back his other weapon. He wasn’t sure he would have, though, even if he could. But he did angle his arm, his second blade embedding in Joachim’s shoulder, close to his heart without damaging the organ. The silver glided smoothly through the links of armor. Joachim gasped for air as a trickle of blood ran from his mouth.

Total silence filled the arena.

Valerian straightened, panting.

Blood gurgled from Joachim’s mouth. “Should have...killed...me.”

“You will live, and you will regret,” Valerian said, unemotional and loud enough that everyone could hear. “If you ever again challenge my leadership, I will kill you. Without a thought, hesitation, or mercy. No matter that we are family. No matter that we were once friends.”

Joachim’s chin fell to his chest as his eyes closed. Dark shadows spread over his blood-coated face just before he tumbled into the dirt, unconscious. Grains of sand sprayed onto Valerian’s boots.

He slammed the tip of his dagger beside his cousin’s body and eyed the crowd of warriors who watched him in openmouthed shock. Perhaps they had expected him to kill his cousin. Perhaps they had expected him to deflect the final blow completely.

His gaze connected with Shaye’s. Mine, his mind shouted. Mine now. No one could say otherwise.

Like his men, her face projected her shock. And horror? He knew he must look a sight, blood and sand covering him from head to toe, strands of sweat-soaked hair clinging to his temples.

He couldn’t regret what had been done. She belonged to him, would live here with him now and always, so it was best for her to learn his way of life.

Tearing his gaze from her, he looked at each of his men. “Is there anyone else who wishes to challenge my authority?”

The echo of his voice settled. Silence reigned.

He paced through the arena. “Now is the time to issue such a challenge. You won’t be given another chance.”

No one came forward.