Valesia barely kept herself from gasping. Especially when Darcy responded, “Yes. She’s dead,” from behind her. She spun around. Darcy was still pale, his skin the shade of a mild rain cloud rather than wet clay.
His tone was so convincing, so broken yet final, that Valesia questioned if she was actually the one they were talking about. Darcy held a finger to his lips and said, “Valesia’s debt has been paid.”
The door swung open all the way, and to keep Trevton from seeing her he stepped into the full light, blocking her from his view.
Trevton climbed out and regarded Darcy. Seemingly satisfied he gestured to his person. “Well, is there any proof besides your word?”
Darcy retrieved her amulet and her dagger from his own inner pocket, his being located on the inside of his trousers. “She would have never given this willingly,” he said, passing the twisted blade, then the necklace, “And she never would have let this pass into another’s hand unless she were dead.”
Trevton smiled, relieved. “Well done, Darcy. Come elf!”
Darcy took a step forward, confused, but Trevton waved him off. “No, not you. Come up here!”
Out of the hole emerged Draemir in the flesh. He appeared thinner here, very out of his element. His eyes flicked her way, and Valesia’s breath caught in her chest, but she said nothing. How could he have ridden faster, harder? How could he be here so quickly? It wasn’t possible.
Draemir made a nearly imperceptible nod towards Darcy, then her amulet. “You promised,” he seemed to say. Her fingers flitted to the cultish scars on her abdomen, grooves that would eternally define her. “Unfortunately, I don’t keep my promises.” That’s what she thought in her head, but with her actions she silently flashed the metal, stood up slowly, still allowing Darcy’s figure to conceal her, and then leapt around him and attacked the dark drow. The snide demon who couldn’t be here, not really.
Her front was lined up squarely with Draemir’s, and she launched herself up so that her legs encircled his waist. She wrapped one arm around his neck and leaned back slightly for leverage while she thrust the rusted metal into his carotid artery. Bright red blood spurted from the wound in rapid bursts, leading her to conclude that he was, in fact by some miracle, here in the weak, mortal flesh. Draemir’s eyes barely had time to widen in surprise as he collapsed to the ground, Valesia pulling her weapon out of the side of his neck and plunging it into his throat.
Edward launched himself at her, the twisted dagger in his white-knuckled grip. Valesia flung herself from Draemir’s prone body and rolled to face the enraged man. “I thought you said she was dead!” he screeched, turning to Darcy. “Finish the job, you bastard!”
Darcy unsheathed his own dagger, covered in his own blood. He took a hesitant step toward Valesia, but winced. Valesia stood very still. If Trevton tried to kill her, she’d fight until she sighed her last breath, but she deserved to die by Darcy’s hand. In fact, she wouldn’t have it any other way.
A few lazy flies suckled on Draemir’s blood as it caked in the dust. Other than that, there was no movement. Even the tree didn’t so much as sway in the blistering and breezeless heat. The scent of death stung Valesia’s nose and eyes, but she stood. Trevton seemed to be under the impression that he had somehow won. A stupid grin was plastered to his grimy and dirty features. An obscene hunger beamed from his eyes as he looked to Valesia, then to Darcy, and back.
YOU ARE READING
Black Bloods: Valesia's Vow
Fantasy"Valesia looked outside the window and saw that the sun had just disappeared behind the hillcrest. She had until the second sundown to murder her best friend. The only person who loved her through her plight for Talio. Talio. Was he ever going to st...
