Chapter 22

Acold fear gripped Ursula as Sotz skidded to a stop in the center of the arena. She could feel the eyes on her. The hellhound harlot, here to perform for your enjoyment.

She climbed out of the saddle, wincing. Fatigue burned through her thighs from the flight. Haven’t even started yet, and I’m already knackered.

From Sotz’s saddle, Cera gripped her hand. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” She glanced around at the empty arena. She was the only one here. “You’re not leaving now, are you? There’s no one else here.”

“They’ll be here, Ursula,” said Cera. “I must go.”

Before Ursula could say another word, Sotz and the oneiroi launched into the air, the wind whipping through Cera’s hair as she flew away.

Okay. So I’ll just stand here in the center of the arena, with an entire planet’s eyes on me. Her heart squeezed in her chest as she stood below the black dome of sky, washed in milky light.

As she stood on the dusty floor, a wave of terror washed over her. Great walls of stone, at least twenty feet high, surrounded her. Every few yards, grated doors interrupted them. And above the doors, Nyxobas’s brethren sat in rows, studying her with a mixture of excitement and fear.

A great clash reverberated through the stadium, and she turned with a start. On a platform at the edge of the arena stood Hothgar, dressed in furs and a silver breastplate. A great silver gong hung beside him, and his Viking wife sat behind him, wearing a shimmering gown the color of starlight. Twelve oneiroi stood before him, each bearing a torch. The torch flames danced in the wind.

And at the back of the platform, a giant stone statue of Nyxobas loomed over the arena. Starlight seemed to shine from the statue’s eyes. Ursula shuddered.

She turned, surveying the crowd again. She squinted in the setting sun.

A pig-faced man pointed at her. “Ready to die, whore?”

She swallowed hard. Now I’ll survive just to spite you.

Glass shattered a few feet behind her, and she whirled. Someone had thrown a glass wine bottle at her. Lucky for her, the tosser had terrible aim.

She moved further into the center of the arena, out of range, inwardly cursing Cera’s punctuality. Why did she need to get us here early?

Hothgar’s enormous form cast a long shadow over the center of the crater. When the shadows grow long...

He slammed his wooden mallet into the center of the gong. A silence fell over the crowd, and he stared at Ursula. “I’m so glad you could finally join us, dog. You weren’t too busy rutting in the streets like a bitch in heat?”

The crowd laughed, and Ursula felt a flush rise in her cheeks. Anger simmered. “I’m sorry.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm. “If you want me to call you ‘Nyxobas’ and worship your lunar staff, you’ll have to control my mind, like you do the other human women who won’t have you otherwise.”

Hothgar paled, but she caught sight of the slight smile that ghosted across Viking’s lips.

Hothgar’s nostrils flared. “Are you prepared to join the melee?”

Definitely not. “I am.” She projected her voice with as much confidence as she could.

“Good,” said Hothgar. “I will enjoy watching you get torn apart.”

A pit opened in her stomach. She couldn’t come up with much of a comeback to that particular jab. She was probably going to die here, and the terror of that thought ripped her mind apart. The Sword of Nyxobas lifted his large wooden mallet. With a brutal strike, he sounded the gong again. Around the arena, the doors opened with a rumbling groan.

Ursula’s blood ran cold as she beheld the champions, striding through the doors. Silver tridents, lethal spears, full suits of armor. All manner of nasty-looking swords, battle-axes, and spears. Their weapons’ shadows crept over the dirt like long fingers.

Most of the men were probably triple her weight. Not feeling too stellar about my rock-knife and my fancy boots right now.

Her heart pounded like a war drum. She searched the champions’ faces, but couldn’t find Bael among them. She shot a frantic look at the setting sun, drifting dangerously close to the horizon.

Hothgar raised his hands. “Champions! Welcome to the melee.” He paused for effect, then boomed, “Are you ready to fight?”

Around her, the champions shouted, lifting their weapons into the air and roaring with cheers. Didn’t they realize they were about to die?

Ursula half-heartedly raised her knife to the darkening sky, forcing herself to emit a sad cheer. “Wahey!” The sun had begun to slip below the crater’s rim.

“Excellent,” said Hothgar. “Now, while I am sure most of you know the rules of the melee, we have some outsiders here.” He looked at Ursula pointedly. “Fortunately, they are very simple, so even a dog could understand. There are fifty-six of you. When twenty-three of you are dead, the melee ends. Only blades may be used. No magic or ranged weapons, or you will be executed. Begin when I next sound the gong.”

Ursula clutched her knife, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead. As she surveyed her opponents, panic tightened her lungs. Frantically, she searched the crowd for Bael. Rays of sunlight blinded her as the last of the sun dipped below the crater’s rim. She didn’t know why she was even looking for the lord. Clearly, he wasn’t her protector anymore. In fact, he’d said flat out that he would kill her. Maybe she just needed to see a familiar face.

Darkness fell over the crater. Now, only the starlight, the gleaming Earth, and the amber light of the torches lit the arena.

Before she had a chance to find Bael, Hothgar raised his mallet again. He slammed it into the gong.

The sound reverberated through Ursula’s gut, and adrenaline blazed through her nerve endings. Her legs started to shake, and everything seemed to move in slow motion.

The crowd rose to cheer, the champions dropped into fighting stances.

She widened her stance, circling to search the throng for danger.

She didn’t have to look long.

A champion charged for her, starlight glinting off his silver helm, carved with the face of a lion.

She had no question that behind the visor, she’d find Bael’s beautiful face, eyes blazing with wrath.

My angel of death, come for my soul at last.