Chapter 25

Iwatched Vireena all day and the only thing—the one worthless thing—I learned was she was left-handed. And fucking unbeatable, from the shite talk I heard from the witches all godsdamned day long about how badly I was going to die tonight.

They'd separated Dane and I first thing, kept us apart and, except for a couple scraps of food left on a plate in the dining hall, I went hungry. I managed to find a cup and scoop up enough snow to melt myself two glasses of water, but by the time the sun fell behind the mountains and her guards came to escort me outside, I was running on nothing but fumes.

I still had my magic, and that would save me.

I kept telling myself that during the long, cold walk through the arches, across the flat plain, then down a set of uneven, treacherous stone steps leading to a broken outcropping jutting out over a thousand-foot drop to a crevasse below.

The Arena was a flat plane of gray stone surrounded by a ring of equally gray obelisks, each one carved with odd symbols. Every surface was highly polished, reflecting the clouds skimming across the darkening sky, shining with the night's first stars. Wind whistled across the slick surface hard enough to throw off my footing, and the whole thing was slanted—toward a drop-off that had no bottom.

Every witch in the coven had to be here tonight, a screeching, bloodthirsty crowd. Gold changed hands, money I doubted was wagered on my victory. Dane stood on the sidelines, arms crossed over his chest, hemmed in by the crowd.

Good luck, he mouthed. Be careful. Then he jerked his head to the opposite side of the Arena.

Adele was there, as if Dane had purposefully placed himself as far away from her as he could manage. Ironically, she was still wrapped in Tavion's old cloak, eyes burning so fiendishly bright I turned away.

My guess was Vireena had fought here a hundred times and knew every single dip and divot in this polished, tilted surface. Knew where the high ground was and how to use it to her advantage. All I knew—she was left-handed.

She shed her robe, pulled off her leather boots, and I did the same, the cold stinging the soles of my feet.

At least the moon peeked through the clouds. It wasn't snowing or raining.

She laid two of those horrid curved knives in front of her and grinned, then went back to stripping until she stood in formfitting pants and a tight sleeveless shirt that showed off every defined muscle. Easy to move in with no chance I could catch her by loose clothing and use the leverage to my advantage.

I was in my leather pants, thin shirt, and had no weapons.

But I had magic.

I kept the smile off my face as some witches pointed at the scion mark on my arm, whispering. I took a steadying breath, met Dane's eyes, and slid off the iron bands, waiting for the crushing surge of power to overtake me.

Nothing.

I slid them back up then down again, as if I could somehow reset the magic.

Vireena grinned, her pale eyes mocking. "No magic can be used within the circle of stones. This is a battle of prowess and strength. We have other ways to test your magic. But this contest…" She slid her tongue up the sharp edge of her knife and dark blood—as black as raven feathers—welled on the tip.

I was so fucked.

As if to rub that fact in, Vireena flashed me a wild grin.

"This contest is brute strength. Only the strongest witch sits on the red throne."

She flipped one of her knives into the air, the blade catching flashes of moonlight until snatched between those deft fingers. "Oh. One more thing. There is no yielding. This is a fight to the death." She leaned closer, her eyes gleaming. "Your mother did tell you, didn't she?"

Oh fucking gods. I was going to be sick.

Dane was thinking the same, his eyes wide with horror.

Now I saw the reasoning behind the tight circle of witches gathered today. Not only an audience to the bloodshed, but a wall to keep me penned inside while their priestess carved me apart. I wondered if my magic would reappear as soon as I stepped past those obelisks, but I'd never get past the crowd, who stood five deep.

I tossed the bands on top of my discarded clothing and lifted my chin.

"Give me my weapons back."

Vireena shook her head in mock sadness.

"The only weapons we allow in the Arena are these." She brandished her deadly knife. "Unless you happened to bring one?" Her smile deepened as she circled left, those two wicked blades gripped in each hand.

"Well then, it's cold and we should get on with it." She raised her voice. "I expect this will not take long at all and you can all go back to your warm beds. Hopefully not alone." Laughter rippled through the crowd; more money changed hands.

Vireena's muscles flexed, every inch of her marked with scars, the trophies of these contests, every one of which she'd won. On her left arm, exactly where mine was placed, was a similar tree, except hers didn't glow. The gnarled marking was raised like an old scar.

"You can't mean for me to fight without any weapons." I matched her pace, staying well out of reach of the witches at my back. I kept my eyes pinned on Vireena but had no illusions. I was as likely to be attacked from behind.

She flipped her knives and caught them with a smile, then did it again, her wrists flexing, fingers sure and steady as she turned the blades inward, preparing to slice me apart when she lunged.

She moved too fast, and I barely evaded the full impact of her body. Her shoulder brushed mine and sent me spinning. I crashed onto the stone, my knee buckling, pain screaming along the back of my arm. I pressed my hand there; my palm came away slippery with blood.

Black as the night sky above us.

"Now there's a surprise. You do bleed black." Her eyes scanned the crowd. "Your mother must be so proud. Do you see that, Adele?" Vireena called mockingly. "Your daughter is one of us, even with her Fae-tainted blood."

I braced my trembling legs, my knee popping back into place, blood splattering the stone beneath my bare feet as more dripped from my fingers.

The High Priestess pointed her knife at my bloodied arm. "I will carve that scion mark from your arm and hang it in my trophy room. How many do I have now, Morana?"

One of the advisors from earlier chuckled. "Ten, soon to be eleven. This one is prettier than the others, I think. A nice addition to your collection, Priestess."

She was a blur of motion and I dove, hitting the ground hard enough I lost my breath, barely managing to roll away and avoid those knives slicing down toward my face. They skated across the stone with a shrill metallic shriek, while I kept rolling, climbing to my feet at the last possible second.

Not fast enough to dodge her next strike.

I pressed my hand to my stomach, blood dripping between my fingers.

"Your body is a weapon, girl, if you weren't soft and weak. But we will bury you here, in our lands. An honor, to rest beside your ancestors."

More laughter this time, edged with a hunger that sent up goosebumps all over me. Dane tracked my every step, eyes focused, lips tight. As if he were timing his rescue attempt down to the last possible moment.

I gave him a subtle shake of my head.

I had no illusions he'd be killed if he so much as stepped inside this ring, and if I didn't survive this—which was looking more likely by the second—he was Tristan and Tavion's last chance. He glared back at me, then we spent ten precious seconds having a silent argument that we both knew I'd win.

When I die, get them out. Promise me.

He glared, jerked his head once, and that was that.

But something inside me settled. When Vireena killed me, there would be a lull while she celebrated, carving the mark from my arm. The crowd would collect their monies, and Dane would have an opportunity to get them free.

Perhaps Tristan could turn into a wyvern and fly them to freedom.

A nice thought, at least, even if it was?—

"As you know, you are not the first to challenge me. Others have tried, but I have been High Priestess longer than my last ten predecessors. You should have stayed in Caladrius and celebrated your victory. Coming here was a mistake."

"Don't I know it," I muttered, then my breath exploded out of me as she hit me full in the chest with both fists, one blade skating over the skin above my breast, splattering blood everywhere.

The pain caught up to me the same time I slammed down onto the hard-as-fuck rock. I was still gasping as I rolled, narrowly avoiding her heel driving down toward my face. Her foot caught my shoulder and something popped, my arm going numb.

"Get up," she hissed. "You're embarrassing yourself."

A full moon rose swiftly overhead, and the silvery light turned the Arena's uneven floor into a confusing maze of shadow and light as we circled, my feet catching in every hole and divot.

She attacked again, knives flashing silver, and one blade sliced through my forearm, but the pain was worth it when she left that side wide open and my fist connected with Vireena's jaw, sending her reeling back. I chopped my other arm down on her wrist and sent her knife flying.

I grinned like a madwoman at her shock.

Fight dirty, Tavion said. Fine, that I could do.

She wanted this fight to be to the death, then fine.

"These are your rules, remember." I launched myself at her, wrapping one hand around her left wrist, other fingers clawing for the eyes, my knee slamming into her crotch and her softening stomach over and over. She couldn't break my grip until she finally kicked me off. We broke apart, gasping.

She was as bloody as me, though chances were that was mostly my blood all over her.

"I was brought up fighting to survive." I wiped my streaming nose, leaving a smear of black across my arm. "You think this is any different?"

My eyes fell to the other knife, lying a few feet from Dane.

The shifter was already moving. The witches around him saw what he intended and grabbed for him, but not before his foot swiped out and kicked the knife to me. Out of sheer instinct, I dove, snatched up the blade, and kept rolling, Vireena's knife whistling over my head as her blade caught nothing but air.

Dane was fighting for his life, cursing as the witches pinned him down, silver knives flashing in the moonlight, red blood dripping.

For one brief second, our eyes caught. Held.

We were both dying tonight.

The coven was going to slaughter him, Vireena would kill me, and there'd be no one to save Tristan and Tavion. I kept rolling, stopping only when a mighty roar rose above the shouting. Not human or Fae. But something primal.

Where Dane had been buried beneath a pile of writhing bodies, an enormous black wolf rose from the crumpled pile, throwing witches off his broad back like they weighed nothing.

Hope—violent, burning hope—rushed through me.

The shifter was beyond the stones, outside the dampening ward, which answered the only question that mattered.

Outside those stones…my magic would work.

I just had to get there.

The wolf snapped his jaws down on the arm of the closest witch and jerked, tearing the limb free in a splatter of blood and screams, then he tore his way through the crowd, ripping and shredding…clearing a passage between me and the columns.

I charged for that narrow opening, bare feet slapping on stone, only to be dragged back, tossed to the ground like I weighed nothing.

Vireena straddled me, blood streaming from her scratched-up face, the knife raised up over her head. I couldn't buck her off. "You will not escape this, girl. You will not escape me, and soon enough, you will hang on my wall along with the rest of them."

Her blade sliced through my left arm with a searing bolt of pain, then she began sawing back and forth, my vision going black, then white, the crowd cheering, the pain overpowering Dane's growls as he wreaked havoc on the coven.

I plunged my blade—her blade—deep into Vireena's thigh, the only part of her I could reach, and the searing pain paused, long enough for me to yank the curved knife out and jam it back in, even deeper this time.

Vireena threw her head back in a scream, and I leveraged that, too, like Raz had taught me, tipping her backward then crawling out from underneath her. And this time, this time I careened through the crowd, following the black, snarling wolf, clawing and stabbing blindly, even as the witches hacked me apart.

Until finally—fucking finally—I broke through the Arena's border.

Magic, blessed magic flowed into me and overflowed, jarring the entire outcropping, sending everyone down to their knees as the ground rumbled in fury.

The frozen air heated around me as my magic exploded out, turning the closest witches into writhing, vine-covered monsters.

Dane picked them up and snapped their necks. Efficiently and quickly enough the closest witches carefully backed away, until they were all penned within the Arena's pillared boundary, believing, perhaps, their precious magic would save them.

Vireena paused at the very edge, arms flexing as she debated the wisdom of coming after me with only one knife.

And what her chances might be if she did.

Then I didn't give her a chance and wrapped the Arena in a layer of my magic, the obelisks shuddering as if the two magics were not at all compatible. I opened up a corridor between Vireena and me, one way out of the Arena, if she chose to take it.

Several others saw that narrow path as their escape and broke from the crowd. Dane snarled when they came into range, teeth gleaming in the moonlight. They slid to a stop and slunk back with the others. Tucked within the now-silent crowd, Adele craned her neck, her blue eyes wide.

I approached the High Priestess, stopping before I reached the obelisks. Beside me, Dane paced back and forth, his message clear.

Nobody is getting through except Vireena.

"By your own word, this is a contest of wills and strength and only the strongest will sit on the throne. Well, come out, then. Prove you are the strongest. We can fight out here as well as we can fight in there. Unless you're a coward."

"I am no coward." She pointed at her coven. "They know I am no coward." But the murmur of agreement from the others was weak, at best.

"I think you are spineless and the only way you could ever—ever—win a fight was by cheating. I wasn't even fucking armed. You were brave enough to slaughter a weaponless opponent. Where I come from, we call that weak." I dragged my knife down the obelisk and swore the ground shuddered beneath my feet.

"So unless you're a pathetic, sniveling coward, come out here and fight me, Vireena." I shrugged. "Or not. I can keep you all trapped in that circle forever. And let me remind you, the throne is out here, not in there."

Gods, it was satisfying to grin at her, even if I was smiling through my own blood.