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Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

T he guard with interest in his blue eyes from before comes with a plate of food and water, and not just gray-looking slop. He dips his head to me before unlocking the cell and reaches a hand out to pass my tray and drink to me rather than throw it to me on the floor.

I eye him warily before reaching out to take it. Once I do, he steps back and out of the cell, giving me my space.

"Finish what you can, and then I will take you to the next competition." He turns and looks ahead, attempting to give me some form of privacy.

" Straight to the competition?" I ask, wondering if maybe his kindness comes with a catch.

I spot the frown from his side profile before he turns to look at me. "I have no hidden agenda, nor do I wish you harm. You may choose not to believe me, and I wouldn't blame you, based on your ill-treatment here. But I, for one, hope you continue to do well and succeed." With a dip of his head, he turns back to his position, leaving me to think on his words.

I never truly assumed all Caligo were bad, but I didn't have the greatest opinion of them. After all, I only met the ones who were cruel, rude, or outright hostile.

But after coming to the palace, I've realized that some Caligo are just like the Sidus, warm and welcoming.

The Caligo guards have become a completely separate entity to that realization. There is not one of them that has proven to me they have an ounce of compassion or kindness in them.

Until him. The blue-eyed guard in front of me.

I doubt I will ever be able to fully trust any Caligo guard, but maybe I can try to not assume the worst of all of them based on the ones I have met.

"I don't see a friendship ever forming between us, but maybe we can start off being allies of sorts," I tell him while starting to dig into my food, not wanting to waste it even though my belly is still full from the meal Visha made for me.

"I am not one to sit and braid hair, though yours looks particularly nice this morning." He turns his head and gives me a small pointed look. "Visha wishes you a good day and good luck in the competition."

My smile widens as he turns back to gaze ahead, but I spot his expression as it slightly softens.

With a seed of trust, I sit down and eat another delicious meal, knowing I will not be offered good food like this often.

Once I'm finished, I thank him, and he gets rid of my tray before we head up into the palace above.

Just before we come to the arena, he slows down. "Good luck today. They might try to push you. Be on your guard at all times."

His warning is not needed, but this time it is appreciated, knowing he means it. I thank him once more as we turn into the open arena, and he freezes.

There is already a commotion, with groups of people either laughing toward the little display or frowning in disgust.

We move a little closer, and I get a better look at my handiwork.

The guards are all wearing the women's flimsy clothing I acquired around Haddon's common room and are all tied up in precarious positions. Still in slumber and unaware of their predicament, they're positioning themselves a little more provocatively as they reach toward one another in what I can only assume is a search for warmth.

The guard beside me dips his head as he moves closer to me. "Remind me never to get on your bad side," he whispers with amusement in his tone.

My answering smile is all the reply he needs as he shakes his head and leaves me with one more "Good luck."

One of the higher-ranking guards pushes his way through the growing crowd and freezes with horror when he finds his precious guards wrapped around one another.

Quickly snapping out of his frozen state, he moves swiftly and kicks the guards awake. They rouse with a grunt, bleary eyes, and a slow growing panic that is quickly followed by revulsion once they realize what they are wearing and where they are.

The guard who woke them calls on some of the other guards to drag them out of here. The looks of chagrin from each of them as they are yanked and shoved out of the arena, their heads bowed in shame, is worth the lack of sleep and every aching muscle from moving their bulky bodies around.

Once they are gone, the guard calls for order as Alderic and a group arrives.

My stomach drops as I realize the lieutenant will be watching the second trial today. They take their place in front of the shadowed stage.

I glance around, catching a few looks from the competitors, some with disgust and abhorrence in their eyes, but many with a glint of respect. Some even nod to me in greeting, making me wonder if I should be worried with this newfound regard.

Oryn and Nevan arrive just as Alderic takes to the small dais. Oryn glances around and spots me, quickly making his way over.

"Welcome. I hope you all are well rested and ready for another trial," Alderic starts. "You will be paired up again, but this time based on how well you did in the last trial. This trial will test your level of skill with weapons. Try not to kill your opponent, but everything else goes."

I ignore the rest of Alderic's speech to check Oryn for any of the injuries he had the last time I saw him. But there are no cuts or bruises anywhere on him.

"You look much better than the last time I saw you," I tell him as more of a question than a statement.

He glances down at his body with a frown. "Oh, I had a healer look after me."

"Good," I tell him and mean it. I consider him a friend and would not like to see him in any pain.

Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself before I break the news to him about Veles.

"I managed to achieve our little goal last night," I tell him.

Oryn's eyes widen as he turns to me. I keep my head faced forward so as not to draw any attention to us.

"And?" he asks, the impatience in his voice evident.

"And he thanked me and said he would be in contact. That there were many things he needed to do first." I chance a glance at him and watch as he turns ahead, clenching his jaw and fisting his hands.

"I knew we shouldn't have trusted him," he grits out.

" You are not the one who did a blood-binding vow with him," I remind him, and he winces.

Shaking his head, he sighs to himself before moving a step closer to me and lowering his voice.

"I have been searching the palace every chance I get, but I have yet to find anything."

"Maybe we are looking in the wrong place?" I tell him. The palace is a labyrinth of halls and passageways. I doubt we would be able to search them all in the time we have here.

He glances ahead with a faraway look on his face. "I just need a clue or a lead. Something ."

"What you need is to focus on this trial. Let us figure out the rest after," I remind him, hoping he doesn't get inside his head too much and end up maimed because of it.

He nods his head as a reply, heeding my warning, and we both catch the end of Alderic's speech as a wall of weapons is laid out to the side. He wishes us good luck before moving into the shadows.

A guard goes around dividing the large group into two. The strongest fighters are told to take a seat, while the less skilled fighters are paired up and told to gather around the edges of the arena.

The group I end up in is the less skilled one, making me chuckle quietly to myself. The competitors around me frown, glancing from one another over to the other group.

Only one is bold enough to question the guard's decision.

"Sir? I think there has been a mistake. Seren should be over there." He points over to the stronger fighters. "Should she not?"

"She will fight who we say," the guard growls out, giving him a sharp look that quickly shuts him up.

"Yes, sir," he replies before moving off to the side with his pair.

I glance over at Oryn and his group and catch his frown as he watches me, but I expected some sort of foul play. They were never going to make it easy for me, or equal for that matter.

If I were to guess, their hopes would be to attempt to exhaust and weaken me by forcing me to fight the less skilled fighters, hoping when they make me fight the stronger ones, that I will make a mistake and fail.

But what they don't realize is the gift they have just given me. A day of fighting is something I will always look forward to.

The first pair from my group choose their weapons. One chooses a long wooden spear with a steel tip, while the other chooses an axe. They take their positions and begin.

Sizing each other up, they give each other enough distance before attacking. The one who chose the axe is larger than the one with the spear. He quickly gains distance on him, his size giving him an advantage to push his opponent back.

Though their fighting is clumsy with an attempt at brutality, they make too many mistakes to show any real level of skill.

The smaller man manages to gain some distance from the other, and with the spear in his hand, he directs it with a force and strength I didn't think he had inside him.

A scream of pain rings out as the spear pierces the other competitor's thigh, bringing him to his knees.

"Seren will fight the winner," a guard announces.

Without question, I head to the wall of weapons and choose a long sword, testing its weight in my hands before moving to the center of the arena.

The man retrieves his bloodied spear as a couple of guards cart the injured competitor away. He stands across from me, his face growing ashen.

"Begin," the guard shouts out.

From watching the previous fight, I can tell his plan is to try to get me at a distance, his only true skill to wield the spear at a long range. Before he gets the chance to move, I whip forward and slice the wooden shaft in half before sliding my blade across the arm that holds it.

My aim is precise, just deep enough to make him drop the head of the spear and reach for the wound to try to staunch the bleeding.

A guard quickly shuffles him off before another two are paired off and another fight begins.

Both use long swords, their skill slightly above the last pair, but both focus on the strength of their attack, not thinking beyond it. It makes it a quick fight, with the bulkier one managing to catch the other unaware.

Instead of giving him a slice across his skin for warning, he chops off his entire hand with a savage smile. The screams from the man bellow out around the arena while deep chuckles follow it.

The man is carted off without so much as a blink of sympathy from the others.

"Seren will fight the winner."

Again, my name is called to fight. But I already know the game they are playing and assume it will continue on until they deem otherwise.

I choose a short blade this time and move to stand across from my new opponent. I eye him a little more thoughtfully. He didn't have to maim the other competitor. A healer cannot fix something that has been completely severed, and it will more than likely remove him from the competition completely. He chose to make this personal, and because of it, so will I.

His bulky form towers over me as he gives me a toothy grin full of arrogance. His dark brown eyes size me up like he thinks he can easily break me, but he has forgotten that the bigger you are, the harder you fall.

He lunges forward with his sword, but I bend low to avoid it, spin my blade, and use the hilt to slam into his left knee. A resounding crack follows a grunt of pain as he drops forward. I twist my blade to my other hand and slam it into his back just where one of his kidneys sits. An unlawful howl of agony bellows out as he curls into a ball on the ground, and a pool of blood begins to form around him.

The man will be passing red for a while until the healers figure out how to fix him.

The guards snarl at me as they remove him, while a couple of the competitors dip their heads in respect.

Seren… Seren… Again and again, I am called to fight another winner, but again and again, they quickly fall, the guards growing more and more agitated while the lieutenant looks on with a murderous glare.

"Stay where you are," the guard growls at me before he heads over to the last of the group and says something to them that makes them frown, but they nod, abiding by whatever order he has given them.

A dozen competitors choose their weapons and step in front of me, all ready to fight.

I throw my last weapon to the ground, and the guard gives me a smug look.

"Giving up already?"

Without a word, I walk over to the wall of weapons, choosing two curved daggers before moving back to my spot.

Twirling them in my hands, I give the guard a wicked smile. "Not even close."

Around me, the competitors grow pale as the guard clenches his jaw.

"Begin," he shouts, and they all attack at once.

I slice, thrust, and slash my way through half of the group while lunging, ducking, and swirling around the rest. I work through the rest of the group with ease, my body moving from muscle memory to do what it is trained to do.

As the last competitor falls, I am greeted by complete silence.

Minutes is all it has taken to finish the fight as I pluck my dagger from the thigh of the fallen man beside me. He grunts in pain as I move past him and take up my spot once more, with a raised brow aimed at the lieutenant.

Instead of more fights, a break is called, with the lieutenant meeting his men for a heated discussion.

Oryn makes his way over to me. But before he gets to me, three guards block him, their focus directly on me.

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