Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

After a night of broken sleep and a morning of political posturing, they moved through the city on the backs of rhinos, which bayed with great pleasure whenever Vaasa scratched behind their ears. In the afternoon light, the gray of their hides was lighter than she expected. People filled the streets with loud conversation. The bustle of the election had settled like dust on each pathway, people moving from place to place, some trying to rush forward to get a look at the contenders, the lines to enter the Dihrah colosseum wrapping around multiple blocks.

Vaasa took those opportunities to whisper to Reid, who sat behind her and kept an arm possessively wrapped around her waist. She wanted to say it was too hot for such games, but she kept the thought to herself—she was nervous about this event, even if he wasn’t.

Today was the tourney of strength: the greatest show of physical prowess in the election, despite it being purely for show. The eastern foremen were favored to prevail.

Except that Reid would be fighting.

The heat of the summer kissed the dry sky, and in a great testament of willpower, Vaasa didn’t throw herself into the Settara for relief. Every inch they rode on the backs of the tough-hided rhinos, she understood with greater degree the purpose of her training with Esoti.

Rounded edges couldn’t dull the sharpness of the hollering screams and echoes of pounding feet that emanated from the towering colosseum as they emerged onto the battleground. Filling each of the rows of stone benches were families and children, elders and young soldiers alike chanting their excitement at today’s events. The music of it wrapped around them like a battle cry. Reid dismounted fluidly onto the sand and helped Vaasa down, pulling her into him as the crowd watched and screamed.

“They like how you look in my arms,” Reid whispered, forcing her to tear her eyes from the clamor.

She tried to ignore the sound of her own thundering heartbeat. Stomach in knots, Vaasa knew his comment was only to maintain their little show, so she ran her fingers through the loose tendrils of his hair.

Mischievous eyes sparked, and Vaasa bit her lower lip, causing his gaze to drop down to her mouth. It reminded her of the first time they’d been this close, when it was only she who had been playing a game. Something about the memory of that moment kindled the dangerous closeness she felt to him. Their moment on the ship hadn’t left her, though by the cool set of Reid’s rigid jaw, she suspected it wasn’t anywhere on his mind. “Are you nervous?” she asked, low enough that only they could hear.

At first it looked like he might deny it, but then he gave a small nod. “My father competed in this tourney once, before he married my mother.”

Pushing the stray tendrils out of her way, she raised her lips to his ear. Another part of the show, though her words weren’t. “You will make your father proud,” she assured him. “You already have.”

He pulled back and looked at her then, like he saw more of her—as if some puzzle piece he’d been struggling to place in his head had finally found a way to fit. Then, loud enough for the people surrounding them to note, he asked, “And if it were your pride I would like to earn today?”

She smiled wide. “Then you must win.”

His finger settled beneath her chin and lifted her face upward, and though he had never done so in public before, he pressed his lips to hers. Her heart immediately slammed against her ribs.

“Very well, Wild One,” he whispered against her mouth, then broke the contact with the same quickness with which he’d started it.

He sauntered off into the crowd, leaving her standing there with Amalie and Mathjin, plagued with questions.

Had all of that just been for show?

Amalie looped their arms and tugged, choosing wisely to remain quiet, and Mathjin stepped closely behind them. Vaasa shook it off, choosing to instead focus on what mattered. Over her shoulder, Mathjin held his hand upon the pommel of his sword. Kosana and Esoti had entered a partner match, and Reid was lining up, which left Mathjin as their guardian.

As they took their designated seats, wooden chairs instead of stone benches, Vaasa spotted Koen. “Are you not participating?”

The greatest warriors from each territory would fight until surrender, a bracket battle for the decade. Some of these men and women were contenders for the foremanship of their own territories, which added a sharpness in the way these competitors gazed at each other. Everyone wanted to prove themselves before returning home for their own local elections and tourneys. No group was sharper than the contenders for the headmanship, who were all gathered in the same place Reid was, except, apparently, Koen.

He laughed and pushed up his glasses. “I am not going to be headman; I see no reason to injure myself for it.”

Koen had taken the opportunity to explain last night just how uninterested in the headmanship he was, mostly because Kier and Elijah were his adoptive parents. There would be no councilor who voted for a familial inheritance of power. Knowing his fathers had already won the headmanship and that Dihrah would likely not contend for it anyway, he’d stepped into the foremanship with eyes on being a councilor for Reid’s tenure. They’d grown up together, both Reid’s father and Kier having served together in the Icrurian Central Forces. While Reid forwent the sodality for a long tenure in the ICF, Koen had studied endlessly in Dihrah. He was even close with Kosana, and all three had promised they would someday rise together.

“I think this is foolish,” Amalie admitted, causing Koen to glance at her out of the side of his eye.

Hunt of Wrultho took his seat just then, gracing the stone balcony reserved for councilors. He sat near Isabel and Marc, who were chatting with Kenen. Hunt nodded at Vaasa, but then his eyes landed on Amalie.

He furrowed his brow, glancing at Ton, who Vaasa now realized inspected their every move from where he stood with the other contenders.

Upon Amalie’s passing, he sneered.

Koen stood with graceful limbs and swept his fingers along the chair next to him. “Join me?” he asked Amalie, who had visibly bitten the inside of her cheek to keep from showing how much Ton’s distaste affected her. All the woman’s defenses were up, yet when Koen gestured for her to take the seat at his side, her shoulders dropped a touch.

By the subtle way that Koen pointedly directed his body toward Amalie, Vaasa wondered if Ton’s fury was only a bonus to the foreman.

Mathjin calculatingly glanced between everyone and took the bench directly behind Vaasa. She felt safer knowing he was at her back and could rise at any moment if she needed him.

The first set of athletes came and went. Vaasa didn’t even remember who won. Through the throwing of spears and hurdling over large obstacles, each athlete proved themselves more capable than the last. While the Mirehan corps made it a focus to outlast, something Kosana had proven to Vaasa the hard way, these warriors were so aggressively offensive that it made Vaasa’s heart lurch into her throat at moments. Spears and axes made their brutal movements different, too, and she narrowed her eyes to take note of them. Swiftly, they were identified as soldiers from Wrultho and Hazut.

Sweat beaded at the base of Vaasa’s neck, and the short black strands of her hair wouldn’t stay put. Fight after fight was called. Blood spattered the sand as warriors were dragged off by the healers from the Sodality of Zuheia.

It took two hours to call the other brackets, each one leading to the grand event: the contenders. First to fight were Irhu and Hazut, which was hardly a battle at all. Brom quickly earned a surrender from Irhu. Reid was out next for his first fight, taking on the contender from Sigguth without much trouble. The bracket almost seemed like it had been set up to pit West against East, but after Reid won, it was suddenly a battle between Wrultho and Hazut.

Within a few minutes, and though it seemed as though he’d put up a good fight, Brom of Hazut surrendered.

Vaasa furrowed her brow. Had someone ordered him to do such a thing? Brom didn’t strike her as the type of man to surrender so quickly.

“Planned,” Mathjin confirmed as he leaned around the arms of Vaasa’s chair. “The point is to pit Reid against the foreman of Wrultho.”

“Why?”

“Because they are the two top contenders in the election,” Koen said.

It seemed to have more to do with Icruria’s economics than it did with the actual contenders. Which was more profitable: war or peace?

The rattling of chains snapped Vaasa out of reflection.

A spiked, barred gate lifted on one side and then Vaasa’s breath caught. Stumbling through the gate into the blazing sun, eyes squinted painfully against the sudden brightness, was Ignac Kozár.

The sigil of Wrultho had been torn from his chest, bloody skin glaring through the hole. The amputation of his hand couldn’t be inspected from this far, but it dripped blood in the sand. Parts of the crowd erupted in louder cheers than they’d given all day. The colosseum shook with their raucous screams and the pounding of their feet.

Yet other sections hushed.

Vaasa looked down at Reid, who had taken a few steps back. Everyone seemed to look at her .

The councilors, specifically.

Vaasa trained her features into neutrality, folding her hands in her lap and lifting her chin. If she reacted as though this bothered her, what damage could that do? Koen didn’t pretend to stay objective—he stood up at the same time Elijah and Kier did, probably wondering the same thing.

How, in their city, had someone given an order like this?

Vaasa steeled herself, the stakes of this single string of moments beating in her chest. This was a plot, then. To remind the world of Asteryan aggression, right as Reid fought one of the eastern territories plagued by violence from his wife’s homeland.

Men surrounded Ignac with spears as they chained him to a large wooden pole in the center of the makeshift battleground. He was hoisted onto a platform, the centerpiece to a table of bloodshed, raised high above the chaos below. He was meant to be looked at. Meant to be a sign—like a prized hog. One that would undoubtedly be slaughtered the moment someone became ravenous. Would they force the winner to murder him? Torture him into confessing his crimes or revealing who had sent him?

She didn’t dare show an ounce of emotion.

The gauntlet was dropped, and the fight below rang out.

Reid wasn’t as large as Ton of Wrultho, but instantly Vaasa could see that he was faster. The two men danced with more skill than even the warriors Kosana trained. The offensive eastern fighting caused Reid to move more than was perhaps strategic, but he held his balance. After dodging three of Ton’s ax swings, Reid put enough space between them that Ton had no choice but to circle.

Ton charged at him and their iron clashed, echoing around the arena and causing people to jump out of their seats. Reid weaved, spinning in a full circle to avoid the might of Ton’s ax. As the large blade swept past Reid’s abdomen, Vaasa sucked in a breath. It missed—barely. Reid spun and kept his sword focused on blocking while Ton pushed forward with more strength than before.

If Vaasa had been watching this weeks ago, she’d have assumed Ton would win. The burly man had the momentum, the fire, and he seemed to be gaining ground. But Reid was very particular about where he planted his feet and how much energy he gave each motion. She knew this aspect of him, of his fighting—it was calculated, specific, and resilient.

Ton’s blows came slower. Reid’s blocks did not.

Reid spun in that full circle again, now far too quick for Ton to keep up, and the burly man stumbled.

An opening.

Vaasa slid to the edge of her seat, forgetting for a moment that anyone else existed.

It was there, in the way Reid stalked with a terrifying gait, strategy woven into even the smallest of twitches, that Vaasa saw what they had named him after— the Wolf . There was hunger in his prowl. Threat in his steps. Heart hammering in her chest, Vaasa couldn’t entirely breathe when she watched him. Admiration filled her at the same time adrenaline did.

He was going to win this.

Wild, piercing sounds slammed off the stone corridors.

In an instant, everyone was on their feet, eyes wide at the scene unfolding directly to their left, and the magic gathered again in her limbs. People wailed, the crowd moving like waves along the rounded stadium seating.

Fleeing.

They were fleeing .

Black oil coated the benches and spilled over the stones, moving along the colosseum much like the mist from her own magic did, only shiny and slick. This wasn’t Veragi magic. A miserable keening emanated around them, then it morphed into an angry and pained growl.

Vaasa’s breath stopped as this thing curled over one of the sandstone pillars.

It jumped onto the benches with spindly legs and talons, its torso perpetually hunched over. Stone crumbled beneath the weight of it, plummeting to the seating below.

Dripping shadows and blackness, oily tendrils danced around the creature with arms so long it leaned forward upon its clawed hands for balance. One claw protruded like an elongated pointer finger that chipped bricks of stone beneath it, and its two front arms were coated in webbed wings. Two horns grew from its head and curled backward all the way to its sides.

Soldiers moved from every direction, screams filling the air. Reid and Ton were no longer engaged in fighting, and then Mathjin appeared at her side. Hands gripped Vaasa’s forearm and tugged, and she was moving away, eyes still glued to the creature and the two contestants in the arena.

Mathjin tugged her back toward the stone archways.

The creature jumped, gliding unceremoniously on its wobbly, outstretched wings, and landed on the sand in the arena.

“Mathjin!” Vaasa cried, pulling against his grip.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled at her.

Vaasa tugged with all her might, and her arm slipped from Mathjin’s grasp.

Then she was sprinting down the stone steps, Mathjin hollering behind her.

People moved on all sides of her, but Vaasa didn’t notice anything outside her tunnel vision. She leapt down one of the rows of stone seating and dodged another group, eyes remaining on Reid. She didn’t know where the instinct came from or how she could be so sure, but something told her with certainty that this was her brother’s doing.

If this was how he killed Reid…

Screams grew louder as people fell over each other, the colosseum descending into madness. A thousand scenarios flooded her mind. Was this only the beginning of an attack? Was her brother here? Who was controlling the creature?

Vaasa almost stumbled over herself as she sprinted down the steps. Mathjin still hollered at her heels. One of the guards tried to step in her way, but she spun, back skimming his shoulder, and flicked her arm out in just enough time to wrap her fingers around the pommel of his sword and tug it out of its scabbard.

Mathjin roared at her as she jumped two steps at a time, her new iron weapon glinting in the sunlight.

Guards flooded the sand. Arrows flew through the air and one ripped through a wing, causing the creature to tilt its horned head and scream in rage. It ripped into the person nearest it, crushing the man between its teeth and throwing his limp body to the side.

It jumped and glided on an invisible wind. The creature’s wings blacked out the sun for the briefest of seconds. Shadows fell off it and covered the dusty ground. Magic shot from Vaasa as she reached the interior of the sandy arena and leapt over the last of the walls. The drop was longer than she expected, and she grunted as she tucked and rolled onto the sand. The sword slapped against the ground. Tightness shot up her back, but her momentum pushed her to her feet. Everything Esoti taught her pulsed in her veins. Black magic swirled around her arms and torso as she picked up the sword and kept running.

Reid was there, standing directly in front of the creature, weapon raised. Then his eyes flicked in her direction, widening with anger as Vaasa pushed her body between him and the creature.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he yelled.

Panting, she dug her heels into the sand and didn’t respond. Instead, she raised her sword.

Crimson eyes sank into a humanlike face. Upon seeing them, the creature’s mouth split open to reveal horrifying sharp teeth that dripped with the blood of the man it had just killed. The creature’s spine and ribs poked out of its scaled skin, and its oily magic began to creep forward along the sand just in front of them. Reminiscent of a mangled human, this creature was like nothing Vaasa had ever seen before. The rancid scent of its magic moved through the air, sweeping into her nose and down her throat.

Like rotting flesh. Burning hair.

The magic in her stomach churned. It coiled at the memory coursing in her body—muscle memory, in the form of her stomach clenching and nausea tightening her jaw. That scent had haunted her. It had followed her day in and day out in those first few weeks. Memories of it had never once left her.

It had drifted down the hallway where she’d found her mother. That oily substance had slicked across her pale skin, tarnished the green of her dress. She’d thought it was the remnants of Veragi magic. But she remembered then—she’d smelled it on Dominik only weeks prior. Had that just been her mind playing tricks?

Those bloody eyes landed just behind Vaasa.

It cocked its head. Took slow steps toward them.

Her hands tightened on the sword as her entire body prepared to swing.

And then its head whipped to the right, damaged wings rising as it leapt into the air and glided past them, landing firmly on the platform hoisting Ignac Kozár in the air. Vaasa gagged as the creature sank its teeth without hesitation into the general’s flesh.

Blood sprayed along the chains and the pole that bound him, the man’s final screams not quick enough to be heard. Lost to the air, his inaudible wail emanated around them all.

Especially when the creature turned back to them, just for a moment, before winking out of existence.

Gone.

Nothing but Ignac’s limp body remained, and if she dared get close enough, Vaasa knew what she would find. Paleness. Sunken cheeks. Left in its wake would be the oily magic, feeding selfishly upon the corpse. An image that had burrowed itself in her mind so deeply that in that moment, she almost swore she could see her mother’s body, the jade of her dress torn and hanging off the platform.

Vaasa dropped her sword.

No one moved.

Not even a guard.

And then, everyone moved at once.

Reid’s arm wrapped around her waist and he dragged her from the arena, barking at anyone who got too close. The entire trip into a cold, contained archway was a blur; Vaasa could only smell and see the oily magic.

A wooden door crashed into the sand, cutting off most of the light and sound. They were alone and her breath started to quicken.

Reid pressed her back into cold stone. His hand curled into the fabric of her clothes. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

“Why would you do that?” he demanded.

When she didn’t answer, he pushed his body against hers. “Answer me!”

“Shut up,” she snapped, then pushed him off her so she could stumble to the left. Bile crept up her throat and she vomited into the sand. Her knees slammed to the ground, stomach wrenching as the contents of her lunch came back up.

Reid cursed from somewhere behind her. He tried to pull back her hair, but she pushed his hands away. “Amalie,” she demanded. “ Amalie .”

“You don’t have Amalie,” he said. “All you have is me.”

She wiped her mouth, tears welling in her eyes as she crawled away from the mess. Reid followed her. Leaving enough space to assuage her fear, he dipped to the ground a few paces away. “What is going on?”

Vaasa couldn’t sit here in the sand and wail. Using what strength she had left, she lurched to her feet and started into the tunnel. “Where does this lead?”

There was a short pause, then, “Catacombs under the colosseum.”

“Can you show me the way out?”

Reid pursed his lips. “Will you tell me what the hell just happened?”

He read her too well. She’d let him get too close. “I know that smell,” she confessed. “It was the same one from the night I found my mother.”

“Found her where?”

“Dead.”

Silence fell around them. She realized she’d never told him that part. He didn’t make an event of it. Perhaps he, too, understood the pieces she’d just put together.

Her mother had not lost control of her Veragi magic. Her mother had been murdered.

And whoever had done it had sent that same creature into Icruria.