Page 268 of Of Masks and Fury

Mine,I growled.Back away.

Her head snapped toward me and for a moment, I thought she wouldn’t listen.

He’s mine,I repeated.I will end this. I swear.

Shrieking, she flew toward Gavelle, who wasn’t moving.

The king sneered at the birds. “Even your unnatural creatures are weak?—”

My sword was at his throat before he finished the sentence.

“Make one move,” I said with death clear in my voice. “And I’ll open your windpipe.”

He went still, his eyes meeting mine. The daughter he’d tried to mold into submission had become something he couldn’t control.

“Surrender,” I said. “Order your army to stand down. We can end this without more death.”

He laughed, the sound as bitter as a crack of his hand across my face. “Mercy, from you?”

“I’m offering you what you never gave anyone else, a choice.”

“There is no choice.” He reeled away and spat at my feet. “You’re an abomination. Better to die than live in a world where creatures like you wield power.”

His hand moved toward his belt and the whip he’d used on my back. He cracked it through the air.

“I taught you obedience once,” he said, stalking back toward me. “Fifty lashes should do it this time.”

I caught the whip mid-swing, the leather biting into my palm. Pain lanced up my arm, but I didn’t let go. Instead, I yanked hard, using his own momentum to pull him off-balance.

He stumbled forward, snarling, and jerked the whip backward. The leather tore from my grip, leaving a bloody line across my hand.

Cyril backed toward his warhorse, which had retreated during our fight. The destrier’s ears were pinned to his neck, his eyes rolling white. He grabbed the reins and hauled himself into the saddle.

He drew another blade from his belt as he wheeled the horse toward me. Rage contorted his face as he spurred the horse forward, the animal screaming in protest as spurs dug into his sides.

I stood my ground. Behind me, I felt Trew move to intercept, but I raised my hand.

Addie’s sharp intake of breath from a distance showed she’d backed away, giving me space.

The warhorse’s hooves pounded closer. Five paces. Three. He foamed at the mouth, the wild whites of his eyes spiraling.

Pherin roared and raced toward the horse in firecat form.

The warhorse balked, rearing back, its forelegs thrashing at air. The king yanked on the reins, sawing on the bit, trying to force it back down. But the creature had reached its breaking point. It twisted mid-rear, throwing its weight sideways.

They both fell, crashing on the ground, my father landing beneath the horse.

His head struck a rock with a snap that echoed across the silent battlefield. The whip fell from his hand, landing in the dirt beside him as the horse rose to its feet and stood, its reins dangling, its lungs blowing.

No one moved.

I walked forward slowly, sheathing my blade, and knelt beside Cyril’s body, pressing fingers to his throat even though I already knew what I’d find.

His eyes stared at nothing, still holding his terrible conviction that he’d been right, that magic was evil and that his daughters deserved death.

I reached down and closed his eyes.

Thiswas the last mercy I would ever give him.