Lord of Embers(The Demon Queen Trials #2)(54)

She sacrificed all the Lilu to save her own ass.”

“In the double world,” he said in a faraway voice, “people play out the same tragedies, again and again.”

He stepped back on the frosted earth and lifted his right hand. Silver claws grew from his fingertips. Shimmering, he vanished and reappeared a few feet away. “Orion has almost no fear.”

“Because he believes his soul died in the dungeon.” I looked down at Tammuz’s claws, and my heart clenched. “You’re… uh… not going to kill me again, are you?”

“No. I am going to teach you to fight like a demon. You may die in the process, if you are not careful, but you will return again.”

I raised my eyebrows. “That’ll take a long time, I’m afraid. How long do we have?”

“Time passes differently in the doubleworld. We will take as long as we need. As my son, Orion inherited my ability to kill, but you will have to learn it.”

I was going to fight with the Dying God in a frozen underworld. I waited for terror or a feeling of dread, but I’d already died and had nothing to fear anymore.

I lunged forward. Claws sprang from my fingertips, and I struck at Tammuz’s chest, but I’d been too slow, hesitating at the last moment.

His claws ripped through me before I could take another breath.

USING A TREE BRANCH, I pulled myself up, feeling the ache in my muscles. The ice stung my fingers, and the cold air burned my lungs. I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled, sending billows of frosty mist floating among the crystalline branches.

I’d died four times so far, and I was starting to get used to it.

Tammuz had a thing for killing me and bringing me back… when he wasn’t finding ways to torture me with exercise and endless sparring.

But truth be told, I was enjoying the physicality of our encounters. It helped me shut off my mind and forget the visions he’d given me.

But it also made me wildly hungry, and I was surviving on acorns and berries, not the most satisfying of diets.

Tammuz materialized in the dark grove. “Enough. It’s time for you to run.”

I dropped out of the tree onto the snowy earth and did as the god commanded.

WITH MY WINGS OUT, I soared behind him over snow-frosted trees. His deep gold wings glowed, making him easy to follow through the night sky. The speed of our chase exhilarated me. We pitched and rolled though the marine winds.

The icy sea air tore through my hair, and I raced after Tammuz over the waves. I angled my wings like he did, curving back over the rocky shore.

A WINTER WIND whispered through the trees. The Dying God stood behind me. Placing his hands on my hips, he shifted my stance slightly.

“Bend your legs more,” he said. “Swing your torso, twist your hips, and use your whole body.”

I obeyed, punching the air slowly, trying to perfect my form.

“Good. Faster.”

My fist shot out, lightning-quick.

He disappeared, materializing again in front of me. I aimed for his jaw, but he blocked it.

FINALLY, I landed a punch to his temple, my knuckles stinging with the force of the blow.

His response was swift and brutal. Pressing his right forearm against my throat, Tammuz crushed me against a tree trunk. I stared into his dark, forest-green eyes. Pain pierced me, a momentary shock, and then his claws ripped my ribs apart, and darkness fell.

FROM THE GROUND, Tammuz swept at my feet, scissoring his legs. I spread my wings and rose into the air. Snapping my wings shut, I dropped, landing on his ribs, and slammed my fist into his face.

Something caught my eye—a dark rock covered in snow. It reminded me of chocolate cake. Hunger was driving me mad.

He flung me aside, sending me crashing into a tree. Leaping to his feet, he darted into the woods. I followed close at his heels, dodging tree branches.

AFTER MONTHS of training with Tammuz, I’d grown infinitely stronger, but also hungry as fuck. There was no pizza here in the underworld, no ice cream.

Each day, I slept in the cottage with the warm fire and the bearskin rug. Tammuz had given me a gift—my demonic magic had returned. But he didn’t seem to eat, so I was on my own in that regard. The thought of clam chowder from the inn was tempting, but if I left the forest, I’d be hanged before I had time to enjoy the first bite.

My stomach ached as I wandered back to the cabin, looking for anything I could forage along the way. Sometimes, I gathered mushrooms, juniper berries, acorns, cranberries, and wintergreen for tea.

The sun was up, and tangerine light spread over the snow. It looked good enough to eat, sweet and fruity, like Italian ice.

In the morning light, a splash of ivory caught my eye. My stomach rumbled. A large cluster of oyster mushrooms sprouted from a log across a snowy clearing. Ravenous, I hurried over and ripped them from the log, shoving them into my little leather bag. I knew from experience that they tasted better cooked. As much as I wanted to gobble them raw, I’d wait and fry them in an iron pan back at the cabin.

Unfortunately, mushrooms had almost no calories. Kneeling on the icy ground, I foraged every bit of the fungus, soaking the knees of my pants in the wet snow.

The forest was my guide and the key to my survival, telling me what to eat and where to find it. I knew, for instance, that the white mushrooms that sprang up behind Tammuz were toxic and would make me vomit for days.

Goosebumps rose on my skin. The forest was speaking to me. I looked up from the log, the faint sound of moving water catching my attention. A stream I hadn’t yet discovered.