The Crown of Gilded Bones (Blood and..

on to his arm, not letting him get far. I pulled the sword from
my cloak and spun, sweeping out wide and high.
Only a few things in my entire life were as satisfying as
the feeling of the blade meeting King Jalara’s flesh, the
resistance of bone, and then the shocking ease with which it
gave way. The blade sliced deep into his throat and through
the spinal column, separating his head from the body.
My gaze lifted to where the knights had frozen, to where
the Revenant stood in utter shock, either held immobile by
the sight of their King’s head winging in the opposite
direction of his body, or by the sight of the other wolven
prowling out from the darkness.
And then I fought like a god.
I didn’t summon the eather. I didn’t visualize it. I didn’t
take the time to let the power ramp up inside me. I didn’t
need to because it was always there. I simply willed it.
The shields exploded, and then the swords. The necks of
the knights twisted sideways, silencing their screams before
they even formed. Their arms broke. Bones cracked
throughout the bodies. Their legs bent backwards, and then
I tore them apart from the inside.
In the mist of blood, the Revenant quickly withdrew two
black, crescent-shaped swords. He held them as the wolven
growled and snapped. “That won’t work on me.”
“No. It won’t,” I said as a rush of wind whipped from
above. The light of the moon was suddenly obscured.
The Revenant glanced up. “What the—?”
Reaver landed before me, rocking the ground and the
trees. His tail whipped around, sliding between the wolven
as he stretched out his head and opened his mouth. A
deafening roar erupted from deep within his throat as a wisp
of smoke floated above the frills.
“But this will,” I finished, sheathing the sword. “Fire of
the gods, right? That will kill you.”
“Good fucking gods, is that—?” The Revenant stumbled,
tripping over his feet. He caught himself just as Reaver’s