“You’re all criminal lowlives who don’t deserve the space in our city.”
“Hilarious, coming from you,” Hadrian muttered.
Kerrigan grinned at Basem. “Pot, meet kettle.”
“You’re surrounded,” Basem snarled over their jokes. “We have your friends. Turn yourself over to me, and I will release them. This is between me and you, leatha.”
“Fine,” Kerrigan said with a sigh. “Fine. I know when I’m beat.”
Hadrian and Darby looked at her with fear in their eyes.
“Kerrigan, no,” Darby cried.
Hadrian shook his head. “You can’t do this.”
“It’s done,” she said with all the confidence she could muster. “He’s right anyway. You two are better than me. This is… how it has to be.”
They tried to talk over her, but she began to walk toward Basem. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she tried to still her breathing. She needed to keep herself under control if she was going to survive what came next. Darby and Hadrian had to be safely removed from the picture. That was what was most important.
“Where’s your little House of Shadows boyfriend?” Basem taunted. “Decided he couldn’t stand a leatha anymore?”
Kerrigan gritted her teeth. “He decided not to help.”
“Just what you deserve.”
She was nearly to Basem now, where he stood by the edge of the fountain. “Release them,” she commanded.
Basem sneered at her, but he nodded his head at his two men, and they released the two prisoners and shoved them forward into the circle of Basem’s ruffians. They took only two stumbling steps forward when a swirl of black smoke circled their feet. One of Basem’s men cried out as the smoke intensified, coalescing into something solid. Then, suddenly, Darby and Hadrian disappeared, and standing in their place… was Prince Fordham Ollivier.
Encircled by a ring of darkness, he looked every ounce the prince that he was. Despite the absurd powder-blue suit, he was magnificent… and terrifying. His eyes glowed silvery as the smoke dissipated, and he rose to his considerable height.
“Now, Kerrigan?” he asked with all the calculated calm that she had come to rely on.
And as Basem made a grab for her, she blasted him in the face with a torrent of air. She leaped away from Basem and into Fordham’s ring of darkness. They stood back to back, their hands raised, their magic tight to them, prepared for the attack that was surely coming.
“Any chance you can use that shadow trick on us, too?” she asked hopefully.
Fordham said nothing, and it was answer enough.
When they planned this rescue mission, Fordham had finally confided in her about his powers. That they allowed him to bend the darkness between places. It was an incredibly dangerous and difficult ability. It ran in his family, but only his father was able to do it with any regularity and not wipe himself out completely. The magic required was so enormous that Fordham hadn’t even been sure he would be able to do it today, but they’d both agreed it was worth the risk.
“Great,” she muttered. “Twelve against two.”
“I’ll take those odds,” Fordham said.
Basem chuckled his rattling laugh and then produced a small amber orb out of his pocket. It was bigger than the thing she’d shattered in the alley the first time they’d met. Suddenly that meeting made so much more sense. He’d held her long enough with the stone, but it hadn’t been strong enough that night. She doubted he’d be that stupid again.
“I don’t think you’ll survive very long, prince. And I thought we would have become allies. Your people were the greatest human and half-breed haters in the world. You hated them so much that they exiled your entire population, and you still slaughter anyone who comes onto your grounds.”
“It is clear we are not allies,” Fordham said evenly.
“No, I could never be allies with a leatha lover like you.”
“Is that from your stash of magical artifacts from Elsiande?” Kerrigan challenged.
Basem grinned. “You have done your homework.”
“That’s what you used on me that first night we met.”
“Indeed. This is a bit of an upgrade. Would you like to see what it does?”
By the smile on his face and the cheery way he’d asked that, she did not want to know. Not if the objects were as valuable as Ellerby had made them seem. They must be able to do some pretty powerful magic.
“Fordham,” she whispered.
“I know.”
Kerrigan reached deep into her well, prepared to fling her magic wide and make a run for it. But then a disturbance came from the northern part of the park, and a figure walked forward in a red button-up and black slacks.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Dozan said, his smooth voice like silk in the heated tension.
“Dozan Rook,” Basem sneered. “What are you doing out of the Wastes?”
“Protecting my investment.”
Kerrigan recoiled at the statement, even as she knew that Dozan was here to help her. He stepped out of the shadows and into the light. With him were a half-dozen other men and women that he employed. Kerrigan had seen most of them around the Wastes over the last year, but she wasn’t entirely sure what they all could do. Just that they were powerful, and everyone steered clear of them at all costs. Dozan was known for collecting and owning people who were special. She’d never had any interest in being one of them.
“You know, I’ve left you where you are because you keep control of the Wastes,” Basem told him. “But I don’t have to let you stay in power there. I’d be happy to burn down the entire Dregs to get rid of shit like you.”
Dozan quirked a dangerous half-smile. “I would truly like to see you try, Basem.” Dozan glanced away from Basem dismissively. His eyes met Kerrigan’s. She could see their last argument playing over on repeat. How she had yelled at him, and he had still shown up here for her. “Come, Kerrigan.”
“You think I’m letting her out of here? You’re crazy.” Basem took a step forward. “We could still take you.”
“Doubtful,” Dozan said flatly. “Now, we will be gone.”
Basem drew power from his amber orb. “You ready to find out, D?”
Dozan eyed him critically and then slipped his hands into his pockets. “How about I make a proposition? You two solve this where it started. Settle this dispute in the ring. No rules. Anything goes. Fight to the death. The winner gets fifty thousand marks.”
Kerrigan choked. Fifty thousand marks was a king’s ransom. How in the gods’ name was he even going to be able to pony that up to the winner?
“Fifty?” Basem asked greedily. “And I get to kill her anyway?”
“That’s right,” Dozan said.
“Done. I’m in.”
“How about the night before the final tournament task? Kerrigan?”
She looked to Dozan and wondered what he was playing at. He wouldn’t let her die in his Dragon Ring. She was his investment after all, and she’d sworn she wouldn’t fight for him again. Not after the lies he’d told. Though she knew it was either fight Basem here or fight him on her terms.