“Shut up about August,” I snarled, drawing the obsidian dagger from beneath my dress, “or I’ll cut out your tongue.”
The threat earned a gleeful snicker from Zhara. “So,” she said with a hiss, “Slyfoot’s baby snake has fangs after all. But is she willing to bite?” she taunted. “Or will she just waggle her tongue with empty words all night?” I bristled at the reference to the Book’s prophetic words.
Casimir gave a warning noise beside me, but I ignored him. Let Zhara know that I had her dagger and wasn’t afraid to use it. Maybe my temper would be the thing that doomed us after all.
Casimir’s lips were set in an expression of grim resolve. Zhara abruptly ceased her pacing, drawing up short and staring at me with an expression of bewildered fury. I wondered if she’d already attempted to draw the Umbra Noctis to her using her prowess with Metallurgy. The obsidian blade wasn’t forged in steel, but its hilt was adorned with Ethervalean runes. If she had, her attempts had been silently thwarted by my necklace’s protections.
Casimir caught my eye, giving an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “Let me handle her.”
Hearing this, Zhara gave a wicked cackle of delight. “Are you going to punish me, Darkseer?”
But Casimir’s eyes were gleaming with something dangerous, like smoke unfurling. He stepped in front of me, blocking me from Zhara’s line of sight.
“She won’t get close enough to touch you,” he promised.
Casimir’s face was pale, and his movements slower, drained as he was from the venom. I stepped back to avoid getting in the middle of their skirmish. It was unnerving, watching Casimir fight Zhara while she was morphed into Gwen’s body. I recalled Casimir’s warning from our first combat training session.
“Above all else, maintain distance. A stab wound is the least of your concerns… If you allow a Daemon to get close enough to touch you, it’s over.”
All he needed to do was get close enough to Zhara to glamour her into unconsciousness, but she was a skilled combatant. Zhara strategically kept herself just out of Casimir’s reach, instead, electing to fling small, vicious-looking knives that he fluidly dodged. This was the first time I’d truly seen Casimir fight. He maintained a predatory focus on Zhara, dodging her attacks with a feline grace punctuated by sharp kicks aimed at her legs. She stumbled with a furious hiss when he managed to make contact with her ankle, but it wasn’t enough to deter her. Even as she hurled another dagger at Casimir’s head, she unsheathed a nasty-looking, curved ivory blade that looked horribly as though it were carved from bone. The edges of the knife were serrated, each tooth promising a drawn-out, agonizing death. He held out his palm to me, silently demanding I hand over the knife. I hesitated only for a moment before relinquishing it to him. Casimir’s eyes were trained on Zhara’s face, never wavering to glance at me or at the unusual weapon in her hand. At once, they began to circle one another, eyes locked onto each other in a graceful but lethal dance. One that must end in bloodshed.
“Bit of a deviation for you, isn’t it, Zhara? Wielding bone instead of metal?” he goaded. “Not very clever for a metallurgist.”
Zhara snarled at him, taking the bait.
In the few seconds she was distracted, Casimir whispered to me, “Run. Now.”
I stiffened at the command, but didn’t move. I couldn’t leave him to fight Zhara alone.
“Have you been exiled so long that you’ve forgotten that bone-forged blades have their own magic?” Zhara’s tone was mocking, but her expression held little humor. “The Umbra Noctis may absorb poisons and venom, it is true, but this?” She twirled the serrated blade deftly between her fingers. “This boneblade is the sister to one you might be familiar with. She is famous for wielding centuries of pain...”
My eyes darted to the serrated boneblade in her hand. Centuries of pain?
Casimir quirked a brow. “You may be a decent Morpher, Zhara, but even you cannot pretend that yours is anything like the one Nymara wields?—”
Her dark eyes flashed. “Oh?” she interrupted, teeth bared. “If you’re so sure, why don’t you come closer and have a taste?”
Abruptly, she lunged forward, the boneblade slicing through the air, but Casimir was ready for her. He gracefully sidestepped the attack, pivoting away and striking at her ribs. She managed to dodge his dagger just before it made contact with her skin, hissing and twisting away in anger. But the Morpher was not deterred.
I watched in terror as their deadly dance continued. Casimir was weak—Zhara’s lithe attacks forced him onto the defensive. He couldn’t win on strength alone. But after a few minutes, his strategy became clear. Casimir would wait until Zhara either ran out of knives or exhausted herself before going in for the kill. He sidestepped her attacks in the clearing as their battle continued on, silent except for the occasional grunt and the rustle of dead leaves beneath their feet. When he dodged her a fifth time, Zhara growled in frustration, finally wise to the game he was playing. Her face began to mutate, melting as if made of wax as she morphed back into her original body, all toned muscle and cascading darkness. Her eyes were as black as coals as they bored into Casimir.
“After I’ve finished gutting you,” she purred, her tone seductive and cruel, “I’ll see to the girl. But I won’t make it quick. I’ll take my sweet time with her.”
Her gaze flickered to where I stood a few yards away. Casimir did not turn, but I saw his spine stiffen at her words.
“Maybe I’ll sever her head as a gift for Evren,” she taunted. She gave a false little gasp. “Oh! I have a better idea. Perhaps I’ll let her join your dear sister in Carcerus for a few decades—I hear Isolde is lonely these days…”
Casimir unleashed a low, guttural growl deep in his throat, but his eyes never left Zhara’s face.
Zhara paused, balancing on the balls of her graceful feet like a ballerina. “Or perhaps I should kill her now?” She flashed a sneerin my direction. “After all, anticipation can be so overrated?—”
Before she could utter the rest of the sentence, Casimir was on her like lightning, striking with astonishing speed and alacrity. Before she could react, Casimir’s knife had punctured Zhara’s arm, and she screamed, staggering back and clutching at her bleeding wound.
Casimir was breathing heavily. He still held the Umbra Noctis, dripping with Zhara’s blood. His lips curved into a poisonous smile as he glared at Zhara. “You’ll be interested to know that dagger’s laced with Hydra Datura.” The Morpher’s eyes went wide with fear as he continued, “Evren inadvertently infused it with Hydra Datura venom when he cut me. It’s really too bad I’ve already taken the last of the anti-venom.” He laughed. “But I owe you for what you did to Arden at the Yu-Ri Manor. I hope you rot slowly, Zhara.”
Zhara screamed in fury, lunging at Casimir, but he was ready for her. He redirected her attack with a well-placed kick to the knee, and on her way down, his fist collided with her jaw. Zhara recovered quickly and retaliated with a vicious kick to Casimir’s ankle, forcing him to the ground. In the chaos, Casimir dropped his knife.
My heart stuttered painfully against my ribs as I watched them grapple, debating whether I should go over to grab the dagger, but fearing I would only put Casimir in more danger if I intervened.