Dead of Winter (The Arcana Chronicles #3)(35)

18


“I’ll fry you!” Joules yelled.

Gabriel sped past me toward some target? Jack?

Cyclops sprang in front of Aric, crouching at the ready.

Ashen and shaking, Matthew muttered Tredici over and over. Tess ducked behind him and began to cry. Soldiers scurried from the fray.

Joules’s skin sparked in the mist as he hefted one of his javelins.

My gaze darted back to Death. The knight’s armored shoulders rose and fell, a weary exhalation. For him, this was just another day, another icon to harvest from an Arcana. Or from several of us.

When the Tower hurled his spear, Aric turned his helmeted head from me. Faster than lightning his sword flashed out. Metal on metal clanged, and the javelin sailed over the fort’s walls. Lightning forked out and an explosion sounded in the distance.

Joules howled with frustration.

“Who the f*ck let him in?” Jack yelled. Gabriel had intercepted him, holding him back from certain death. “Evie, get the hell away from him!”

“Why have you come, Aric?”

Again, Death turned to me. “To do what I always end up doing with you.”

He always ended up . . . killing me.

He reached up and removed that menacing helmet. As ever, the Endless Knight was hypnotically beautiful, with his collar-length blond hair framing chiseled features and radiant amber eyes.

In his deep raspy voice, he said, “I always end up forgiving you.”

My lips parted. What?

“Choke on this, Reaper!” Joules hurled another spear.

Aric deflected it, this time without gazing away from me—as if his starry eyes were greedy for the sight of me.

“Forgive?” I finally managed to say. “You promised to make me pay!”

“I intend to, Empress, but not in the way you’re thinking.” His accented words were loaded with innuendo.

“How can I believe that? Right before I knocked you out, you went for your sword!”

His blond brows drew together. “I was reaching for a vial of antitoxin. I’d had it formulated before the Flash, in the hope of neutralizing your poisons. I’ve always wondered if it would work.”

Antitoxin? Confusion rocked me. “B-but we’ve fought each other so many times. And you . . . you always win.”

Another javelin; another sword parry.

“Evie, you get away from him!” Jack bellowed.

“You know well that I would never be able to harm you,” Aric chided, “even should I have wanted to. Just as you refuse to hurt me. Twice now you could’ve killed me. This last time, you took pains to protect me.”

“But you . . . and then . . . your sword?”

He gazed at me with infinite patience. “Never again, sievā.”

I stared into his eyes, that soul-deep sense of connection sweeping over me. Oh, dear gods, I . . . believed him.

I had to defuse this situation before anyone got hurt. The trues! But Matthew couldn’t paint his blood on Death’s lethal skin. Could I use the Gamekeeper’s blood? I ran to Matthew.

He was already slashing his arm. “True-hearted,” he whispered. “For now.”

I drew my forefinger across his wound, then hurried to Aric.

“Don’t you feckin’ do it, Empress!” Before I could reach Death, Joules fired again.

Aric deflected, his voice booming in the night: “I begin to tire of this, Tower.”

“Aric, let me paint your hand!”

He sheathed his sword and dismounted with that eerie grace. Spurs ringing, he strode to me and removed one spiked gauntlet.

“Nooo!” Joules yelled.

I drew a red line across Aric’s icons.

At the touch, he shuddered with bliss, lids gone heavy, eyes ablaze.

“Get away!” Jack had broken free from Gabriel, was fearlessly charging for Aric. Jack’s bravery was like a living thing inside him—always wanting to be freed.

“Stop!” I rushed to head him off, but he shoved me behind his back, standing up to Aric. The two were about the same height, gazes locked.

“You can’t fight Death,” I cried. “He’s part of the trues.”

“I’m not Arcana,” Jack bit out.

“Drunk and no sword?” Aric sneered. “This isn’t even sporting.” Jack tensed, all his muscles swelling. Because he was about to attack. He smiled a chilling smile. I’d seen it before. An animal baring its teeth. He was about to launch himself at Death, his anvil-like fists swinging.

“Jack, you can’t hit him! You can’t touch his skin and survive! The only reason he’s facing you with no helmet is to bait you.” I turned to Aric. “If you hurt him, you will pay!”

He donned his gauntlet. “I have no intention of aggressing anyone here, love. I arrive on a simple errand, now that you’ve completed yours.”

“Errand?”

In a casual tone, he said, “I’ve come to take my wife home.”





19


Jack’s head jerked back as if he’d been struck with a sledgehammer.

A guttural bellow erupted from his chest. He swung for Death.

I screamed, but Aric blocked the hit with his armored wrist.

The knight stared into Jack’s eyes. “I always recognize a death wish. Do you want to die, mortal? I can oblige you.”