Shadow's Claim

It was almost worse that she could always see the forest from here, forever out of reach.

She trained her gaze far below. Thousands of demons and other Loreans had flocked to the streets, tossing confetti over the procession of combatants.

Brightly colored pavilions and tents circled Abaddon's famed Iron Ring-an enormous stadium with a caged arena. A grandstand overlooked all. Bold standards hung limp in the still, humid city.

Bettina surveyed the procession, shuddering at many of the "suitors." The pus demon wore rubber boots and gloves to catch the filth bubbling from his skin. A pair of Cerunnos slithered along the cobblestone streets, leaving sidewinder trails in the confetti. A crocodilae shifter went shirtless, the better to show off his speckled, platelike skin.

"Look at the males below." This is actually happening. She'd wanted to feel safe; those entrants were terrifying. "They're repulsive."

"Not all of them. I dated a coil of Cerunnos once-they're not as bad as one would think." Morgana tapped her claw-tipped finger against her bottom lip. "Regrettably, no Sorceri are expected to enter. Even assured of my involvement, they all think this contest will be fixed. Or that it will come down to simple brute strength."

If the Lykae were the physically strongest breed of Lorean, the Sorceri were among the weakest.

Morgana frowned, then said, "Of course, I could force the issue-if I thought a champion of ours might actually survive."

As the Queen of the Sorceri-both royal and mystical-she had absolute mastery over her subjects and all their individual powers. She could order any member of their species to do anything, and they would be compelled to obey. Or she could simply steal their powers.

Chapter 12

Morgana wasn't a beloved ruler, but she was content to be a dreaded one. "Alas, poisons are frowned upon in these matchups." The Sorceri were famed toxinians. They didn't necessarily make them, but they certainly utilized them.

"I don't suppose you've finally stolen the power of foresight and have seen a good ending for this."

"Foresight?" Morgana scoffed. "Never. Oracles go soft in the head. I'll take my blind alleys and my sanity any day."

"Surely you're going to steer the course of this thing?"

"I cannot, by thought, action, or deed, affect the outcome of this tournament. But I did negotiate with Raum so that you would have some influence over the competition," Morgana said. "There will be a lady's choice round. Consider it a safety clause. Don't ask what that entails, because I'll say nothing more on the subject."

Bettina's question died on her lips. I hate it when she does that. "Are there any contestants here that you would accept as your husband?" she asked innocently.

"For gold's sake, Bettina, you know I'll never wed." She flicked her fingers in a dismissive gesture. "I'm surprised that demonic wastrel you call friend hasn't entered. Raum's certainly for that."

Really? Wait, why does everyone keep calling Cas a wastrel? Did no one see past the devil-may-care skirt chaser? He'd nabbed his first bounty at fourteen and had been risking his life to collect more ever since. Cas was determined to earn respect in this kingdom, one death demon at a time.

Oh, where was he? Bettina would have thought he'd be here to see her off. She didn't spy him below either.

Maybe he'd fled Rune to escape Daciano? Would she never see Caspion again? Then she swallowed. Or had the vampire already returned?

Surely Daciano wouldn't have come back until night was full upon them.

"You told me that you would give anything to feel safe again," Morgana said. "These competitors are feared champions."

"Many of them are dangers to me!"

"Whoever wins is who you're supposed to have," Morgana said blithely.

Bettina glared. "The Sorceri don't believe in fate."

"I will clarify: Whoever wins will be the strongest, most cunning, most powerful competitor. Potentially all of the above. That is who you will have for your husband."

One problem. A Cerunno could be all those things.

Morgana sighed. "If you don't approve of your new husband-and really, Bettina, when did you get so persnickety?-make yourself a widow. Bettina the Black Widow! Then you'll rule all by yourself with no irksome male to influence you. Just as I do."

Bettina's lips parted. Part of her suspected Morgana wanted a monster for her ward, just so Bettina would have to kill him. Morgana wanted to toughen her up-after all, Eleara's daughter had come crying all the way home. A wedding-night execution would be just the thing!

Bettina would certainly lose her reputation as a pushover.

"And what about the Abaddonae?" Bettina asked her. "Why would they tolerate a Cerunno as king?"

"Tolerate?" Morgana's many braids drifted around her head as if an invisible wind blew, and the gold pieces on her body thrummed-her anger manifested. "You're about to be their queen. They'll tolerate whatever you choose to give them. Always remember that." Smoothing her hair, inhaling for calm, she said, "Besides, you know these demons worship strength-might maketh right, and all that. They'll accept whoever wins."

A knock sounded on the door. Bettina stepped back inside her sitting room.

"Oh. How surprising," Morgana sneered, following her in. "Raum is right on time."

Her godfather strode in, clad in his ceremonial armor, his dark horns polished. His breastplate bowed out to cover his barrel chest. His black beard hung nearly to his breastbone and was neatly braided.