“Demi, watch out!” one of his friends cried out, instantly realizing what was about to happen.
By the time Corbin reached them, Kalon had already dropped the knife. Demetrius tried to fight him, but he was choking under his grip. Kalon exhaled sharply as he drove his hand through Demetrius’s chest.
“Oh, dear lord,” I managed, covering my mouth. “Holy…”
A moment passed in the heaviest of silences as Demetrius stared at Kalon in disbelief. It was too late to do anything. Kalon’s hand had broken through the skin, the flesh, and the bones, having taken hold of Demetrius’s most prized possession.
“End of story,” Kalon hissed as he withdrew his hand, pulling out Demetrius’s heart.
My stomach convulsed, but I couldn’t look away. Demetrius’s friends screamed. Amal gasped. Demetrius collapsed on the ground, no longer breathing. His skin faded to a sickly off-white, blue rings settling around his eyes as he bled out on the short grass.
Corbin stilled, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Kalon stood there, holding Demetrius’s heart. Staring at its final, weakened beats. Blood trickled from his hand, like liquid rubies. As if suddenly brought back into the real world, he turned his head to look at us.
“I had no choice,” he mouthed, his lower lip shaking slightly.
As fearless a warrior as he was, Kalon still experienced regret. He took no pleasure in killing someone, even in these circumstances, where Demetrius had certainly had it coming. Kalon dropped the heart, wiping his hand on his shirt. Red flowers bloomed across the fabric, as he took several deep breaths.
“It’s okay,” Corbin said to him. “You won the duel, fair and square.”
“I had no choice,” Kalon repeated himself.
“He gave you no choice,” Corbin replied. “Demetrius cheated. He chose to die as dishonorably as he lived.”
Valaine stepped forward. “If you ask me, Lord Mefithi is better off without a son like him. You did the right thing.”
Demetrius’s friends were livid, but there was nothing they could do, especially since the master commander himself had refereed the duel. “It’s not fair,” one of them murmured.
“Krassus’s death wasn’t fair, either,” Kalon retorted.
The second Aeternae pointed an angry finger at him. “You killed Demetrius over a filthy Nalorean, Kalon. You’re a traitor to your kind!”
Kalon moved like lightning, gripping the Aeternae by his throat. “Unless you want me to remove your heart as well, you will apologize for uttering such insults,” he said, his voice low and deadly. “Demetrius challenged me to a duel, and he lost. Better get used to it.”
“Don’t,” Corbin said, placing a hand on Kalon’s shoulder. “He’s not worth it.”
“I know.” Kalon sighed, letting the Aeternae go.
He and Corbin walked away, leaving the two friends to care for Demetrius’s body and his discarded heart. Valaine was the first to reach him, throwing her arms around his neck as she pulled him into a hug.
“That was close,” she said. “He could’ve done much worse!”
“But he didn’t,” Kalon replied, gently pushing her back with a soft and thankful smile. “It’s over now. Justice has been served.” He stopped in front of our group, pulling his shoulders back. “And that is how one wins a duel, even when dealing with a cheater.”
“Does that happen often?” I asked, my brow furrowed.
“You’d be surprised,” he said. “Pat an Aeternae down all you want. They’ll still find a way to hide or pick up a weapon from somewhere, if they feel like they’re losing.”
“Desperation clouds one’s judgment,” Corbin replied, shaking his head in dismay.
“Kalon’s right, though. It’s over. That’s all that matters.” Valaine sighed.
Indeed, it was over, and my opinion of Kalon had shifted considerably. Suspicion battled increasing curiosity in the back of my head, as I decided I needed to know more about him. I wanted to understand him better. There were definitely multiple layers to this guy. I just had to be careful as I peeled away at them.
But nothing that had happened tonight would bring back Krassus, whose death was still unfair. His children would go on to live without him, and that broke my heart. Visio was much more complicated than I’d thought, I realized, and I was barely scratching the surface here. Who knew what else this place had in store for us?
I’d have to find out.
Esme
The next morning, after the GASP briefing held by Derek through Semper Telluris, I made my way into the palace’s training halls, still reeling from the duel I’d witnessed in Black Square. Kalon was a veritable killing machine, but he also had a heart—kinder than the one he’d ripped out of Demetrius’s chest with his bare hand, anyway. I’d never forget that moment.
A bit of sparring would clear my head, for sure. I’d seen the armor and weaponry used in the Blood Arena, and I knew I’d seen something similar here, as well, since many of the noble dynasties displayed them inside the palace—testaments to their champions’ prowess in combat, something for those training in these halls to aspire to.
There were five spaces designed for fighting practice, each of them boasting crystal glass displays filled with trophies and medals. Sets of armor dating back eight hundred thousand years adorned the dark walls, as did shields, swords, spears, and other sharp weapons used in the Blood Arena. The noble dynasties could afford the intricate details and master craftsmanship of steelwork, and so every piece shown was truly a work of art—chilling, impressive, mesmerizing art that honored violence.
I’d opted for a sportier outfit today, already tired of fitting into corsets and bodices. Not that they bothered me, since they were infinitely more comfortable than what humans had worn during their Victorian days, but I did prefer pants to anything else. Zurah had been kind enough to select a black leather set, comprised of tight pants and a vest, to which she added a loose-sleeved white shirt. My hair was braided back, and I had a black leather cloak on my shoulders, ready to pull up whenever I went out in the hazy sunlight.
On this occasion, however, I took it off and left it on a corner chair. I took my time admiring the weapons that were on display, as well as the ones mounted on wooden panels, ready to be used in training. Unlike the trophy rooms, these halls were wide and spacious, the floors covered in a thick material that mimicked marble, though not as slippery, and was perfect for rapid steps with just the right amount of sliding.
I knew Tristan would spend the first half of his day in the library, so I chose to warm up a bit and practice some moves. It wasn’t in my nature to be stationary for more than a day or two. The energy tended to gather and form pressure points in my joints and muscles, and all that needed to be released one way or another. It was also a good way for me to stay in shape. It had been a while since I’d fought or even sparred with someone, so it felt nice to have this entire training hall at my disposal.
Picking up a pair of slim short swords from one of the panels, I took my time admiring the engraved stylized vines on their luscious steel blades. The hilts were simple, made with ivory, and the handles were neatly wrapped in hide strips, which gave them an excellent grip. They were also light, but I could still feel the smooth weight in my hands—enough to warrant a swing or two in the air, just so I’d understand them better. I’d made this a tradition of sorts. Feeling the weapon before using it. Slashing left and right, swinging and dancing with it, finding its best angles.
Shortly after I got used to the swords, I settled in front of a wooden dummy, taking my time to remember all the weak and potentially deadly spots. In the Aeternae’s case, it was usually the head. How quickly could I decapitate one of them, if push came to shove? I’d seen Demetrius in the arena and during the duel. I’d seen Kalon fly down the stairs to reach him, and I’d seen him defeat the bastard. They were fast. Insanely fast, much like the vampires.
“Looking to kill an Aeternae anytime soon?” Kalon’s voice startled me.
