“I amnotyour sister,” Morgan spat furiously. “You tied yourself to my brother by force. ’Tis unnatural, no matter the ceremony you undertook to make it official.”
Guinevere shrugged one elegant shoulder and tossed a long lock of wavy hair over it.
“It matters not what you think, little witch. The fact is that the king is mine. And through him, the empire.”
She advanced a step toward them, forcing them to retreat a step back.
“You have your uses, Morgan, and I mean to keep you longer, if you do as you’re told. Butyou…”
She turned her eerie glowing eyes with black centers to Ere.
“You are entirely irrelevant, whoever you are. I might have tortured the truth out of you—who you are, why you’re here, and so forth—but I haven’t the patience.”
Casually, she pulled out a long dagger from behind her back and came toward Ere with deadly intent.
Ah shit, was Ere’s first thought.
Because he was useless as a fighter in human form. Against a maniacal demon bitch like Guinevere, wielding a sharp object as she was, he was doubly useless.
Maybe Morgan could protect him, was his cowardly second thought.
But when the witch tried, pushing her magic at Guinevere until her palms turned bright red, she was suddenly flung back by an unseen force against the cavern wall.
She landed with a thud and a splash, lying limply in shallow water. She tried to get up, but the fog swirled around her, glowing bluish-white. She gasped for breath, as if it suffocated her.
“Why is it not working on you?” Guinevere said, focusing on Ere.
She reached toward him and closed her fingers in a fist, making the mist curl around his head the way it did Morgan.
But aside from being slightly more difficult to breathe, no more so than being smothered by any thick fog or scentless smoke, Ere didn’t suffer the same effect that Morgan apparently did.
“What are you?” Guinevere hissed, her demonic opaque eyes practically throbbing with violence.
“Better question is, what areyou?” Ere snapped back.
She brandished that long dagger like she meant business and was a lot more adept at wielding the weapon than Ere hoped she would be.
“Doesn’t matter if you’re dead,” she growled, advancing upon him.
Faster than the eye could track, she struck.
Ere managed to dodge to the side, but just barely, the dagger ripping through the arm of his tunic, slashing a thin, bloody line into his flesh.
She rounded upon him and attacked with vicious arcs, swings and stabs.
As he dodged and deflected as best he could, unarmed as he was, a part of his irreverent brain wondered how she could move so fast in that mermaid-like dress. It was as if a Victoria’s Secret Angel was trying to stab him to death.
Surreal!
Then, his foot slipped on a rock beneath the water and he flailed back, losing his balance. As he lay in the shallow pool, defenseless, and the she-demon swooped upon him, Ere thought this was it.
Followed by—he hoped it wouldn’t hurt too much to die.
Again.
Followed by—Sorin would besooopissed at him if he did.
Die, that was.