Chapter Thirty-Two

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

UNWELCOME IMPOSTER

T he horses reared while the hoard of warriors whistled and cried out in high-pitched battle calls. The king and the prince led the charge, galloping around the Convallis, descending through winding dirt ledges that swirled down the pit like the lining of a funnel. While Cas could not offer details of the beginning, I knew the first horn meant time to pay attention. The spectators would descend until they had a bird’s-eye view of the arena, each stopping in a designated viewing spot. The contestants, who were mixed amongst them, would go all the way down. How the observers could see anything in the sprawling arena miles below, I had no clue.

Ahead of me, Tey stood on her galloping horse, balancing effortlessly with her arms spread wide, her black hair tightly bound on her head as it had been the evening before. In one swift motion, she sprung up and into the pit in a backward dive, shifting mid-fall into a soaring bearded vulture with a ten-foot wingspan—a Lammergeier. The bird dove until I could see her no more.

To my relief, the rest of the contestants did not turn into a flock of birds flying away. That didn’t mean their shifts weren’t useful—they could have been conserving energy.

I entered the descending spiral and saw the prince and the king as small dots far below me. The procession became primitive. Warriors shrieked and beat their chests. Horses galloped with no fear down the narrow ledge, nostrils flaring. I lost sight of Cleo, Brita, and Livia, but Xinlan’s white bobbing head remained in the corner of my eye.

After several revolutions, Romeo became skittish. He bucked and reared and I tightened my thighs to hold on.

“Woahh, boy, settle,” I murmured, keeping my breath steady despite my heart pounding.

He continued to spook, and I got the disturbing feeling he would jump off the side of the cliff. “Romeo, settle,” I soothed, patting his neck, attempting to hide my anxiety from the animal, knowing it would only worsen things. My heart betrayed me, thundering so loud in my chest I wondered if the Rexi could hear it.

Further down the sloping path, I saw Xinlan’s white hair sailing into the pit, her painted stallion beneath her. So my instinct was right—Romeo was about to leap. I attempted to throw myself from the beast in hopes I would not drag him to his death.

I moved too slow. A moment later, I fell through the air, strapped to a horse that jumped to his certain death.

I looked back to see the Rexi’s blank face, devoid of all emotion, dark eyes pulsing. Her mouth formed a word, but I could not hear it—my heart had stilled, and everything went quiet as we fell through the open sky. Romeo whinnied and thrust his head up, confused and panicked. I wrapped my arms around the horse’s neck in an iron grip, my face tickled by his mane as we made revolution after revolution, somersaulting.

“It’s okay, boy,” I whispered, pressing my eyelids together, praying it would be. I shoved down the nausea building in my gut and envisioned my window, a portal through which I could take us both to safety, to the grass meadow that looked like a spec on the ground.

The portal pulsed strongly in my mind’s eye, and I reached out to it. There was a whoosh feeling—the impact of still air, and in an instant, we were through. I held onto the beast for dear life, praying he would not collapse and crush me. But he did not, for my portal was gentle enough, and he only stumbled, disoriented by the ordeal.

I let out a small sound of relief mixed with triumph. I looked around, allowing Romeo to regain his footing while I swallowed the bile that built in my throat. We’d landed on a grassy plain, no other contestants around. But a whizzing noise pulled my attention up to see the rapidly approaching figures of Xinlan and her painted horse.

I kicked Romeo into a run to remove us from their fall path. I looked up and locked eyes with Xinlan, desperation and fear marking her face. I didn’t think this time; I portaled to her without hesitation, grabbed her in less than a second, and then portaled safely to the ground in another. I landed with her in my arms, my bent legs absorbing the impact, several yards away from where her mount met his unfortunate end. I winced at the gruesomeness, its blood and flesh painted on the Earth, and a brief pang of regret struck me for saving her rather than the innocent animal. If it weren’t for the restrictions of the fickle magic, limiting me to transport only one other living thing, I would have at least tried to save them both.

Xinlan looked at me with awe and confusion. “For the flour sack,” I mumbled, shocked at not only my decision to portal, but the speed of it. Not as fast at Fayzien’s, but faster than I’d ever portaled before. Before she could react to thank me or stab me, I ran, leaping onto Romeo’s back, urging him to a gallop into the trees.

My first step after entering the forested arena was to find proper food and shelter; Cas’s words rang in my ears. Three challenges over approximately three days, no break. The victor would be whoever won the most events—and was still breathing at the end. I swallowed hard, the reality of the situation hitting me. I fought the urge to look at my hands, to wonder how I would handle it, how I would feel if…

If I looked down to see them covered in blood.

I shook the morbid thought from my head, shifting my mind elsewhere. How could any of the spectators see us? We landed so far down I could barely make out the point at which we’d entered. The Convallis was fathomless and thickly wooded. More like a pit than an arena. Fabricated though it was—trees I did not think could easily grow this deep in a rocky hole—the smells and vibrations of the dense forest tempted me to flex my element magic. A part of me considered it, for it would disqualify me. Since not only my innate power but also the natural environment of the arena fueled my Earth magic, they deemed it an unfair advantage over the non-Witch contestants. And since this was the Fae Sk?l, I had to play by Fae rules. But just as Fae could shift, I was permitted to portal. And just as Fae could use their natural magic, I could spell.

It would be a justifiable enough explanation for my loss, not being able to resist the Earth. And the king would be pleased. But my moment of weakness passed. I would not loosen my grip on control. Not because I intended to win, though. Regardless of Gia and Jana’s safety, I had no intention of winning and being forced into a marriage I’d yet to accept.

I smiled, remembering Cas’s offhand comment about how the Fae detested tied outcomes—how they viewed them as producing not two victors but two losers of a draw.

The king said I had to give up the win, but he did not say I had to allow a victor. It would have to be a draw.

The first challenge instruction arrived close to sunset. I crouched around a small fire, the smoke bound by a simple containing spell, eating roasted roots that took me no time to find, even without my Earth magic. It comforted me to know that my years as a human clung to me. As if I always had something to fall back on.

Romeo remained alert, and I thanked Cas for such a reliable steed. Maybe it was better I hadn’t flung myself from him in the end. His presence made me feel a little less alone.

He began hacking, and I got up to check on him. He’d been grazing before—perhaps he choked on some fibrous roughage. But when I opened his mouth, a thick, crumpled piece of parchment fell into my hand. I removed it, and he snuffed in gratitude.

It read:

Welcome, contestant of the thirty-third Sk?l in recorded history. Viribrum thanks you for your service, for your dedication to the Fae people. Today, six of you will compete in the Contest of Beauty. This is the first test of your worthiness of the kingdom.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but what makes the beholder register beauty? Is it the color of their experiences, or the rhythm of the times?

There is a creature intended for each of you in the arena, six in total, and you must seek it out. You must capture it and make it see your beauty. If you succeed, you will have won its heart.

The first to do so will win this event. The last to do so, and those who fail to do so before sundown tomorrow, will be disqualified. Remember, contestant, you may eliminate your competitors at any time.

Sk?l!

At that, a sound erupted, and I nearly jumped a foot in the air at the thunderous cheering from faceless watchers above us. I swore, fighting the urge to roll my eyes at the inscription’s vagueness. How in the gods’ name would I prevent a victor with such rules? I shuttered my eyelids, twitching my Fae ears to listen for movement. I only had to prevent myself from disqualification, which meant protecting my life, finding whatever creature I had to enchant, and making sure I was not the last to do so.

Incessant chirping from swallows and magpies in the arena filled my head. The spiral down-ramp was no longer visible; it looked like only sheer cliffs lined the crater. A crater big enough to be the entire Argention forest. And even though I resisted calling to it, the Earth still called to me, which was a test and an advantage, for though I could not respond, I could observe and listen. I sniffed out a running stream and mounted Romeo, nudging him in its direction. I didn’t know what creatures were placed in the arena, nor how to find one. And if I did find a creature, how would I know if it was mine?

The only thing I could guess was—if it was a living, breathing thing, which the word creature implied—it would likely be a drinking thing. Meaning it would need water.

When we were about thirty yards away, I slid off the saddle and bid the unusually obedient horse to stay put. He did, and I crept through the high grass, which turned into a marsh as I neared the sound of running water. I shivered at the cool, thin sludge soaking my boots, moving up to my thigh and then reaching my navel. The marsh pulsed with muddy fragrance, but I didn’t mind, for it served as a dense cover.

As I approached the stream, I bobbed and weaved my head, staying low to protect my position, but also attempting a look at the bank. And sure enough, life was there. But it was not a gaggle of Gobbles, nor a clan of Elvens, nor a flock of unknown mutants that could be considered ‘creatures.’ It was four of the contestants, all but the stunning Cleo.

The muddy water reached my ribcage, and I slid lower, in to my neck, tilting my hair back to wet it and mask my scent completely. Not making a sound, I stood once more, training my ear on them.

“Our number one goal should be to kill her,” someone said. “Screw the event. We don’t know her magic, and the king said it was the priority. If she lives, we have no shot, and more importantly, no gold.”

Bastard. Fighting the urge to react, I became a marsh wraith—invisible and still. My ears trained harder on their conversation.

“Aw, is the Daini scared of a little Fae girl? I say we compete in the damn competition and off her during the events. Of course, if anyone has a clean shot, then for the gods’ sake, take it. But I’m sure as hell not worried about her ability to make it through an event, let alone harm me in the process,” another shot back. Tey . I would know her razor voice anywhere—as sharp as the blades she wore.

“The king said she’s pretty much useless without her element. What a fucking disaster! A Witch in the Fae Sk?l! I bet that’s why Cas won’t lie with her. Imagine, a mixed breed in your bed!”

My cheeks heated underneath the muck. Several of the contestants cackled, and I bit my lip to keep in the words—and Earth—that threatened to burst from me. I imagined sending rocks into one end of their orifices and out the other.

“I don’t know if we should kill her,” a soft voice said. I didn’t dare move to see the speaker, but I had a guess whom the guilty comment came from.

“Oh, and why’s that?” someone else said.

“Did any of you wonder why the king asked us to cooperate to kill her? He must think it a difficult job, or he would have paid just one of us. And besides, what’s his motivation? He said protecting the bloodline. But his royal line was sullied with that common Fae wife he had. I have a hard time believing that’s his reason.” The voice grew stronger. “And anyhow, she only needs to lose for the bloodline to be protected. Not die.”

“His wife is exactly why he wants her eliminated. He doesn’t want the disgrace of his blood sullied once again! Don’t you find it unusual that his Fae wife died in childbirth? Have you heard of such a thing?”

They continued like that, arguing back and forth about the king’s motivations, his orders, how they should follow them, and when. Why would the king tell me to lose just to have me murdered? To make the hit easier, I supposed. But something wriggled in my mind. That couldn’t be the whole story.

For the first time, sitting there in that marsh as the sun dipped behind the edge of the Convallis, I wished for my father. Not Ravello of Argention, the sweet-eyed man that rubbed my head as a girl. I missed him with every beat of my heart. But now I wished for my birthfather, Viturius, wished he could tell me what I overlooked, why nothing made sense. My memories of him were neither warm nor plentiful, but they were laden with respect. He had raised me to be tough and to come to him with any problem. I needed his strength, guidance, and clarity.

I stayed still for a long while in the marsh, unmoving as they left to pursue their creatures and the sky turned a glowing deep blue. They seemed to follow Tey’s plan, which was to kill me whenever one caught sight of my trail.

“I wish I had my father, too,” an unfamiliar voice said from behind me, and I clenched my entire being to avoid a loud, physical reaction to the surprise. I turned with caution, doing my best to ease out of the water in silence. Not an easy task. My stomach leaped into my throat as I looked into Ezren’s blazing green eyes.

My mouth fell ajar, and I blinked several times to confirm I wasn’t hallucinating in the twilight. “I imagine you miss him a lot,” Ezren said in a voice that was not his. But the image was uncanny, and I could not move.

“What in the…” I whispered, my gaze locked on the warrior.

Ezren cackled in an unnatural way. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, is it not?”

My blood grew cold. “Show me your true form.”

It laughed again, the sound like the scrape of nails on unfinished metal. “I would, m’lady, but you control what you see. Life, it is.”

“I know what you are,” I said louder. “You are a Talpa. You are a creature of the wood, of the Earth. Part Fae and part Gobble. You cannot lie. You shift and change—transform to reflect your surroundings,” I stated, reciting my lessons. “This can include reflecting the desires of others. But, pray tell, what desires are your own?”

At this, the creature shifted its weight, almost imperceptibly, and I wondered if Ezren was my true desire. For if he was, it meant this creature was mine.

“I have no reason to answer you. But I can see you struggle to identify yours. Pray tell ,” it said, mocking me, “do you doubt the fire that burns inside you for the warrior called Ezren?”

“I barely know the warrior called Ezren,” I ground out.

“Is that so?” the Talpa probed as he approached me, the water level at his mid-torso, oddly undisturbed by his movement. “Do you truly believe that, child?”

My breathing grew labored, for whether or not it was Ezren mattered little. The Talpa was the exact image of his body, and mine had no choice but to react.

The creature tittered to itself. “I think you know the truth, for you have seen his soul. Perhaps not for the first time. And by seeing, you have been seen, human one.”

I fought the dueling urges to flee or leap on the non-Ezren Ezren. And then it was a foot from me, towering in the way he always had. While my female instincts roared, my Fae senses also sniffed out the creature’s underlying scent. It was not Ezren’s smell of pinon and strength and damp forest. It was a mix of burning fear, and underlying suffering. My longing turned to concern. I took one of its hands and it jerked back, but I held fast.

“Whom do you serve?” I knew it was not a free being. It stank of fear and misery—and I’d read the Fae often forced the lesser Faeries into servitude.

“I, I am bound to no one, peasant,” it snapped, snatching its hand from my grasp. At once, I knew I had gained ground.

“How long?” I asked again, not breaking its gaze, willing myself to see beyond the blazing green eyes that sent flames into my low belly. “How long have you been captive?” I searched there, latching on to the string of pain I found behind the fire.

Its eyes darted once more, and for a brief moment they were no longer emerald or Fae but large dark orbs, terrified. But then he was Ezren again, resolved to regain the upper hand.

“You know nothing of what you speak. I hope it will bring you great pain, to see your death brought ‘round at the hands of your lover,” it hissed.

But before he could draw his blade, I said, “Tell me how to free you, and I will do it.”

It froze, unmoving in Ezren’s form. “That is no small offer, Princess. You know not what you suggest.” His voice was dead quiet, his eyes flickering between his true form and his Fae figure.

“Enlighten me, then.” My heart pounded, sensing this would end either in battle or something worse.

“Only my master can free me,” it said, its voice thick with an unnatural lilt. “However, a new master can replace my old one. Should someone wish to take the place of my master, they must transfer me their lifeblood in more quantity than what I currently feed on. This is difficult and requires much suffering. It will also likely result in loss of several years of life, the exact amount unknown.”

I pushed out a deep breath, tempted to fight the creature instead. Something inside me said the sacrifice was worth it, for flesh pain is fleeting, and the true feeling of freedom is not.

“I know as much as anyone the importance of liberty,” I breathed. “I will do it, Talpa, and then I will release you. But before I do, I would like to see your true form.”

It stared at me in disbelief at first, but then it shifted, beginning with large, shining eyes. The rest of its body changed, and it shrank to half the height of when it took Ezren’s form, its neck just peeking out of the water. It had thick leathery skin, wide pointed ears, and might be considered ugly if not for the large innocent eyes of extraordinary depth that peered up at me.

And then Ezren suddenly returned, for it seemed to be pained in its original form.

“How do I give you my lifeblood?” I asked the creature.

It blinked. “I just need to drink from a vein.”

I waded back to shore, the creature following me. After a quick surveying of the moonlit surroundings, I undid the front of my leathers, removing Ezren’s dagger.

I turned to face the Talpa, and it gasped. “What?” I whipped around, palming the dagger and searching for whatever surprised the creature. But I saw nothing, and when I looked at Ezren’s form once again, it fixed its gaze on the hilt of my weapon.

“Where did you get that?” it whispered.

“It was a gift. Why?”

“I have not seen a Dragon’s egg in a millennia. I thought they were all lost.”

“A Dragon’s egg?” I cocked my head.

“Yes, on the hilt,” the Talpa replied, as if I was the oblivious one.

“You mean the emerald,” I corrected.

“No! That is no emerald! Can you not see it blazes with the fire of a Dragon? That, right there, is a petrified Dragon’s egg. There is no shell, it likely dissolved over many thousands of years. I imagine you have kept such a possession hidden from other Fae folk. For if you had not, it likely would no longer be yours.”

I searched for some unborn Dragon embryo inside the gem. When I examined it, I only saw a shining flame within the green stone that wasn’t really a stone after all.

“Well, I suppose I owe you a debt for the education,” I muttered.

An eerie grin spread across its features, like it knew I was about to repay that debt ten times over. I ran the dagger across my palm. I made a fist, squeezing hard to draw the blood to the surface of the skin. And then I raised my hand to the Talpa.

“How much will you need?”

“A fair amount,” it said, eyes trained on my already dripping palm a few inches from its face.

I nodded. It brought my hand gently to its mouth, and my body shuddered at Ezren’s lips, his tongue that ran along my palm. And then it sucked, drawing the blood from my veins.

At first, it was just a tug, as if a string ran through my body to my chest. But a few moments later, the tug turned into a pull, and then a yank. And then the yank did not remain isolated to my chest but came from everywhere. And I could no longer describe it as discomfort, but sheer pain. The essence of my flesh was being sucked out, leaking through every pore. I bit so hard on my lip, stifling my scream, that iron tang coated my tongue. My body shook, uncontrollably, and I remembered that Ezren could feel my suffering. But then the Talpa stopped, staring at me in wonder, and the pain disappeared.

“Did it work?” I asked, breathless, reeling from the ordeal and surprised it ended so soon.

“You, you are bound, child?” it asked softly, now gentle with me, still holding my palm.

I shook my head. “I still don’t fully know what that means, but yes, I am bound to the warrior Ezren.”

Familiar green eyes sparkled back at me. “Well, you have lost less life-blood today because of him. He sent me much of his, rapidly and with intention, so I needed no more than a few drops of yours. The process is not usually so… brief.”

I gaped at him, wondering how Ezren could have done such a thing. “Does that mean Ezren is your master?”

“No, no, it was your skin that was pierced. You have the power to dismiss me,” it replied.

“Well, then, Talpa, I release you of service to me or any master previously.”

And then it cried out, overjoyed, hopping some wild dance in Ezren’s form. It picked me up and twirled me around, and I got so lost in its jubilance that it took me a moment to register when it collapsed, gagging.

I rushed over, opening not-Ezren’s mouth. Carefully, I removed the lodged parchment, thick and crumpled like it had been the first time.

It read:

Competitor! Congratulations. Not only have you made this creature see your beauty, but you were the first to do so and have thus won the first contest. You have now moved to the contest of Strength.

Strength comes in many forms. There is strength of mind, of will, of resolve. There is corporal strength, the strength of skill and body. You must show all forms, as you must kill the Talpa standing before you.

The first to do so will win this event. The last to do so, and those who fail to do so before the next sundown, will be disqualified. Remember, contestant, you may eliminate your competitors at any time.

Sk?l!

We both stilled, our arms placed on one another, and I looked into the creature’s eyes that were not its own. My gaze flashed to my wrist, where a shimmering gold tattoo snaked from one side to the other, leaving a gold band. If I’d been the first to complete the test of Beauty, I could guess what it meant. This was the winner’s mark. I pressed my eyes together in exasperation, drawing a slow breath. If I wasn’t a target for the other competitors before, I surely would be now.

I looked back to the Talpa, peering down at me. I shook my head. “I—I can’t. Even if you did not look like him, I cannot,” I whispered, slowly untangling myself from the creature. I took a step back, shaking.

I expected the Talpa to shift, to turn and bolt. But it did not. Instead, it leaped on me, knocking me to the ground.

Saving me from a whirring arrow that soared right over our heads.

“Crawl!” it shouted at me in a whisper.

But I did not follow its order. Instead, I wrapped my arms around it and I portaled us both.

We landed on hard ground, next to where I’d left Romeo. I panicked, wondering if our pursuers had caught my steed. But he whinnied on our arrival, appearing from behind a large oak.

“Thank the gods,” I muttered, jumping on his back. “Go Talpa. You are free. Leave this place and save yourself.”

The creature, still in Ezren’s form, turned to run but hesitated. “When were you born?”

I blinked at his question and Romeo danced, wanting to move. “We hardly have time for?—”

“ What. Date.” He ground out urgently.

“Uhh—fifteen days after the last spring new moon, ninety-two days after the Spring Equinox in the old Fae calendar. My twentieth was mere days ago. Why? ”

“On the Full Moon of the Creatrix,” the Talpa whispered, so softly I almost missed it. “Twenty years ago.”

Romeo hopped and struck the ground with a hoof, begging to go, and I had to clench my thighs to quiet him. “What is the full?—”

“Let us leave this place, and find somewhere safe,” the Talpa interrupted, shifting painfully back into its true form. It took off in an unnatural run, bidding me to follow. I didn’t have to kick Romeo into action. We galloped after the creature.