* Chapter Eleven *

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~ TRISTAN ~

The last place I want to be is here in this room. I have two days worth of exiled ash on me. Two days of non-stop slaughter that's barely put a dent in their numbers. I haven't concerned myself with if the exiled I kill are interested in collecting the bounty the death of a massarra brings. Or if they are content living their lives in debauchery like the rest of us. I'm not there to put each one on trial. I'm there to send a message—If one of the exiled attacks, I will kill them all.

A freshly bathed Kinley bumps into the side of her bed when I strike a match, lighting the rolled herbs in my hand. The dimly lit quarters of her chamber made it easy for her to walk right past me.

"You're...you're back." She clinches the opening to her silk robe shut.

"I have little choice in the matter. The tournament commences tomorrow." I set the puffing herbs on the windowsill closest to her bed.

Once the tournament ends, I'll have seven days to weaken the angel inside her before the Dark Prince tries to hand her off to Talrek or worse, Kinley picks his fledgling son.

"How did you get in here?" Kinley's gaze flicks in the direction of the door, the sliding locks still in place.

The locks to her chamber doors have been casts with demon enchantments. Only her human servants who bare the mark with a specific symbol can enter. Her caretaker gains entry by the bracelet she wears.

"I had Marianna let me in after you sent your servants away for the night."

The less she knows about my maiming one of her court members to gain entry into her chambers, the easier all this will go.

"Marianna let you in?" Kinley stretches her neck to look at the herbs exhaling gray smoke behind me.

"It's a mixture of safrus and dream shade, in case you're wondering," I answer the confusion seeping into the deepening of her brow.

Safrus is what demons use to clear a human's mind. The dream shade is to help Kinley fall asleep quickly. I need her in a deep sleep if there is any hope of this working.

A gust of wind streams in through the window I cracked open, pushing the vapors of the makeshift incense over to Kinley. Her nose crinkles in reaction, her chin tipping up right before she sneezes.

"What's it"—she sniffles, attempting to hold back another sneeze—"for?" She fails, sneezing so hard her eyes water.

I'd say the question Kinley wants to be asking is, why am I here?

"It doesn't matter." I progress toward Kinley, observing the way her grip tightens with each snap as I begin unbuckling the outer leather pieces of my causal armor.

Any tighter her nails may start digging into her palm.

"Did you know angels have the same number of ribs as humans?" My shoulder guard drops with a soft thunk to the floor, my chest plate following shortly after. "Angels have an extra scapula joint where their wings attach. If I want to keep their wings attached to their spine, I have to crack all twenty-four of their ribs first by ripping out their sternal keel. That's the protruding bone buried deep in their chest just as the little birdies have. Of course, this always breaks their clavicle."

"That sounds traumatic." Kinley wraps her free arm around her torso, the grip she has on her robe moving to the base of her throat.

"The trickiest part comes when severing the complicated muscle structure that allows them the separate movement of their arms from their wings. Sever the wrong one, and the wings no longer have an attachment to the ribs that connect to the spine."

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