Steel met steel with enough force to produce sparks, Killian driving Rufina toward the balcony.
But he couldn’t focus on the fight. Not with Lydia still in the room. Not with every move he made intended to keep himself between her and the demon that stood before him.
“Run!” The word tore from his throat. And out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lena dragging Lydia through the hole in the wall. Safe. And then the world around him fell away, leaving behind only the fight.
Their swords slammed together, hilts locking, and his eyes met Rufina’s between the crossed blades. She hissed, “I’m going to enjoy taking your life, Lord Calorian.”
“You can try.” He swept out a leg, sending the corrupted stumbling back even as he flipped his sword around and lunged.
Rufina deflected the blow, but Killian got past her guard and slammed her into the wall of glass, both of them falling together as razor shards rained down upon them, pain blossoming across his body.
They rolled, losing their blades as they grappled, Killian coming up on top.
He slammed his fist into her face, hearing the crunch of bone; then motion flickered in his periphery as the deimos attacked.
Diving sideways, he felt the heat of the creature’s mouth as he passed under it, coming to his feet in time to see Rufina kick his sword out of reach. Behind them, the main doors to the ballroom burst open, civilians pouring inside, not even the sight of the deimos stopping them from running toward the tables full of food.
“Go play with the rabble,” Rufina told the deimos. “He’s mine.”
The deimos snorted and trotted inside, and a heartbeat later screams echoed from the ballroom.
Her gaze locked on Killian, Rufina tossed her own weapon aside. “Your life is too good to waste on steel.” Then she lunged, as swift and deadly as any snake.
Killian darted back, dodging each swipe of her deadly hands. Hands that reached for his throat. For his face. For any inch of bare skin that might allow her to drain the life from him. Back, step by step, until he reached the balustrade.
And overhead, he could see the flicker of flames carried by riders on the backs of at least a dozen deimos, all of them soaring in the direction of the harbor. And the fleet.
No.
Killian struck with his knife, and the corrupted sidestepped him, only to reach out, her fingers grazing the skin of his throat.
He spun away, but he still felt a tug. Minutes of his life stolen. Maybe hours. Though if this creature got the better of him, he wouldn’t live long enough to care.
She was too damn fast. And unlike most of her kind, Rufina knew how to fight.
But so did he.
Killian feinted, then slashed at her right side.
Rufina danced out of his reach, leaping onto the balustrade, then using the height to launch herself at him with blinding speed.
His shoulders hit the floor with enough force to rattle his teeth, but he somersaulted backward, slamming his knife into her side even as he flipped her over his head.
On his feet, he pulled another knife and threw it, but Rufina batted it aside. Walking backward into the ballroom, she pulled the knife he’d embedded in her ribs out, inch by inch, coughing up blood.
Attack her now, instinct ordered him, but the deimos was terrorizing the civilians; half a dozen bodies lay still on the ballroom floor. Those inside were trying to flee, but they were met with a sea of starving people unaware of the danger inside. The deimos was slaughtering them, but just as many were dying beneath the feet of their friends, the air loud with screams. So instead of lunging at Rufina, Killian grabbed hold of a lamp and threw it at the curtains.
Glass exploded, spraying oil in all directions, igniting the fabric.
Shouts of “Fire! Fire!” filled the air. The tide of civilians caught sight of the flames rising to the stone ceiling and turned, trying to flee. The deimos shrieked in fear, galloping to the balcony, but Killian didn’t have a chance to see where it went before Rufina slammed into him. His head cracked against a column, agony racing through his skull, but he saw her reaching fingers—
Killian ducked, ignoring the pain as he rolled, retreating until the stars faded from his vision.
Then he attacked, knocking aside her hand and punching her in the face. She reached for a fallen knife, but he kneed