Between the Moon and Her Night (Between Life and Death #3)

Chapter 6

Von

B eads of sweat pooled on my skin, joining together before they rivered down my heavily inked torso, catching on the lip of my pants. There was fire in my lungs, heating my muscles, expanding my broad chest, filling my bloodless veins with adrenaline.

I stood in the arena of my gothic-inspired amphitheater forged from volcanic materials. The behemoth structure spiraled towards the amethyst sky, tall enough it could rival the mountains in the distance. It stretched across ten acres of land, the circumference so large one could get lost in it. The arena itself was split into quarters, each part used for a different purpose, for a different form of entertainment. The section I stood in now was a span of black sand, used predominantly for gladiator battles.

On any given day, the amphitheater seated tens of thousands, but today, the stands were empty. All because I was a gracious king, and I would spare my brother’s fragile ego from public humiliation as I kicked his ass.

Like I said. Gracious king.

Folkoln stood across from me, blotting his torn bottom lip with the back of his hand. He was missing a thin pie-shape from it, the pierced flesh now lost to the sands. In his other hand, he held a dagger forged from a dark metal, a glistening, emerald gemstone set in the pommel.

“You’ve been spending too much time at Hard Spirits, brother,” I taunted him, inspecting my own dagger, saturated in his golden ichor. Immortal veins always wept gold, and yet, on that fateful day when the Goddess of Life had slit mine open, it was as red as the mortals’.

I didn’t know what to make of it.

“And you haven’t spent enough.” He smirked, eyes as black as a viper’s scales meeting mine. The left corner of his mouth twisted upwards, the severed bit of flesh sewing itself back together. “Haven’t you heard? The war is over. We should be enjoying the spoils of defeat. You know, drinking, smoking, enjoying a warm pair of thighs.”

“I have no desire to bed any of the women here.” I twisted my wrist, rotating the dagger as we began to circle one another, much like vultures about to square off over a scrap of meat. The scrap of meat being bragging rights for the winner, which would last until our next sparring session when the board would be wiped clean.

“Of course not. The one you wish to bed is in another realm, playing runaway bride,” he chuckled, stepping one combat boot over the other. “Explain something to me, will you? You made a deal with her, so why don’t you just go get your new pet? Or call the deal in? It’s not like you to not collect on a bargain.”

“You’re not wrong,” I told him, studying his movements just as carefully as he studied mine.

“So then, why don’t you?”

“If I collect her or call in the deal, it’s going to make it that much harder to win her over, especially if her skin begins to rot. She’s as stubborn as a newborn filly determined to learn how to walk. I can only imagine how well that conversation would go over with her.”

Folkoln raised a questioning pierced brow, his tone sarcastic. “ Win her over?”

“It is what I intend to do.”

“Saphira won’t like that.”

“That’s her problem, not mine.”

If my sister had it her way, she would have the Crown of Thorns placed on Aurelia’s head the moment she got here, thus ending her immortal life. Yes, I had made the crown which was crafted from the root of a tree that possessed white leaves. That nameless tree, which was located in the Golden Palace, was said to be Aurelia’s weakness—the very thing that could kill her. And yes, I had fully intended to use the crown, but then things had changed. Aurelia showed up at my castle, asking for my help, and I knew right then and there that I would never be able to let her go.

Now, I hungered to take her life in a completel y different way.

One way or another, she would be mine .

She already was, she just didn’t know it yet.

Folkoln slit the air, marking it with an “X.” Black fire engulfed where he cut, and it shot towards me. I swung my blade, producing a shield of wind to blast against it. Then we charged, right through the middle of wind and flame.

With a mighty swing, he drove his dagger in my direction, extending his arm above me. I stepped into him, catching his arm in the air before he had a chance to complete the follow-through. I forced his hand upwards while I tried to fire my dagger into his ribs, but all it caught was a skiff of smoke.

He emerged behind me.

I twisted around, blocking his attack.

We went at it again, looking for a way to break one another’s balance, but each time, we both came up short. We were constantly moving around the arena, searching for that one misstep in the other’s movements, that fatal error that either of us could capitalize on. Every once in a while, one of our daggers would find a bit of flesh to chew into, but nothing to tip the fight in one another’s direction.

“So then, what is your plan with your little pet?” Folkoln gritted, his teeth clenched so tightly it triggered a muscle to kick in his jaw. We were caught in a deadlock, my strength pitted against his. “I know you must have one.”

“Trying to throw me off my game, brother?” I asked.

“Maybe. But I am genuinely curious.”

I shoved him back. “Once Aurelius learns that Aurelia is not in the Spirit Realm, he’ll send his men to look for her. When they find her, they’ll demand to take her back to the Immortal Realm, which, considering what Aurelius did to her, is the last place she’ll want to be. When that does happen, my ravens, who are watching over her, will alert me to go to her. I’ll simply step in, remind her of our deal, and she’ll be forced to choose.”

Slow clapping sounded from the stands, echoing amongst the obsidian arena.

“Bravo, brother, you truly are a grand manipulator,” Saphira purred, her condescending tone gilded in fake admiration. Piercing, emerald eyes swept to mine. “Donning the skin of a shepherd, pretending to protect his precious, stupid, little sheep.” Her lips twisted into a poisonous smile. “When in truth you are the starving wolf. It is a grand charade.”

Folkoln and I exchanged looks with one another, acknowledging our sparring session was over for the time being.

Saphira released a mocking, breathy laugh as she continued. “But what will happen when she learns the truth, that you were the one who whispered into the wind where the goddess is hiding, sending the information straight to Aurelius?”

I raised a brow in challenge. “Who says I was the one who let the information slip?”

“I do,” she said as she descended the stairs, heels clicking against stone, the hem of her black gown trailing behind her. “Because I know you. Just as I know that you will tire of her eventually, just as you have with all the others. Mate or not. And then what, brother? Will you come to your senses and realize that you traded two-thirds of our kingdom for some New God bitch?”

Her words, intended to cut like a scalpel, had the impact of a butter knife .

Yes, I had traded the two Realms for Aurelia, and I would do it again if given the choice. But I did not have to explain my actions or decisions to my sister, something she had clearly forgotten.

I quirked a black brow, my gaze sliding to Folkoln’s. “Do you see a crown upon our sister’s head?”

Folkoln gave me a look that seemed to say he didn’t want to be dragged into this. Still, he said, “I do not.” His flat tone furthered his stance.

“Neither do I,” I mocked, grinning. I ran the flat of my blade against my thigh, wiping away Folkoln’s ichor. I switched to the other side of the dagger, repeating the action. “And yet, she acts as though she is the sovereign of all.” My eyes flicked up to hers—a challenge in them. “Tell me, Saphira, who is the monarch of these lands? Is it you, or is it me?”

She stopped her descent. Her lips twitched, her nostrils widening as she inhaled a frustrated breath. Those small tells told me that I’d struck a nerve. Good. I wasn’t finished.

When she didn’t respond, I bore down. “If you wish to be queen of this realm, then prove yourself worthy and fight me on these black sands. If you best me, I will hand over my throne and leave you to rule the Spirit Realm as you please. And if I win, which we both know that I will, you will agree to return to your place as my commander, and never challenge me again. Do we have a deal, sister?”

Her sour expression turned honey sweet. “You know me, brother—I have no desire to replace you, I merely want what is best for you.” She dipped her head. “I’ll leave you two to it. ”

Shadows slithered around her, taking her away.

“What are you going to do about her?” Folkoln asked, his fingers running over the healed part of his lip. I could see the cogs turning in my brother’s head—he was itching to pierce that part of himself again.

I sighed. “I haven’t quite figured that out yet.”

Saphira was impossible to break once she got stuck on something, and right now, me calling off the war—and my reasons for doing so—were her latest obsession. Eventually, I would have to figure out a solution for how to handle things with her, as they were only bound to get even worse. Especially once I brought Aurelia back here.

A moment that could not come soon enough.

The thought of her being out there, away from me, caused tension to drill into my muscles, stringing them taut. I swung my blade and turned to Folkoln. “Again.”

“Alright, but the loser buys at Hard Spirits tonight,” he said, taking a step forward.

“Deal.”