Chapter Thirty
After hours of riding through a wide expanse of rocky terrain and ancient cedarwood forests, the Aupex came into view on the horizon. The lush green mountain dwarfed its white-capped and hard-edged neighbors. There was no denying the power that resided in this place.
My skin tingled as mana searched around me, bouncing off my body like mosquitoes trying to gain purchase instead of flowing through me as Sidelle explained it would after my blooming. The crease between her brows when she said it, though, made me wonder how sure she was.
As we reached the massive wooden gate wedged between two enormous rock cliffs, it creaked and groaned, opening for us to enter. I expected to be met with a city, but instead it was a vast grassy valley with a single gravel road running through its center, lined with hundreds of vendors, pavilions, and ongoing shows.
I read the flags blowing on the light breeze from poles lining the road, the Festival of Night.
Sidelle rode beside me as we followed Eurok through the crowded roadway. Endless spectators set up tents and meandered through stands, while others cheered on champions as they made their way through the gates.
Beings of all kinds—humans, druids, dwarves, greater fairies, and even some I didn’t recognize—waved and raised beverages in Eurok’s honor. A brightly dressed halfling bard on a wagon stage played a strangely shaped stringed instrument while he sang about Eurok’s victories.
‘Oh, Eurok of West Haven, known far and wide,
With might of the forest, and moon as his guide.
Through ages he battled, heart steadfast and true,
In woodland’s embrace, where ladies he wooed.’
The captain laughed, waving him off, then cupped his mouth to project over the bystanders. “Hey, I told you that in confidence, Bartov.”
I stifled my laughter when he looked over his shoulder to Sidelle. He shook his head as if the song were ridiculous, then yelped as her mana gave him a quick shock to the ass.
“Where are we going?” I asked as we wound through the masses. I saw Cedar Shield’s village near the valley’s end, but not much else.
“Balis will be formally announced as a contestant during the commencement ceremony,” Eurok answered. “We’re headed to the city’s counsel lodge.”
A cold sweat coated my palms at the thought of seeing Balis, and I forced the butterflies flailing in my stomach to die.
A druid warrior to the left of our party hollered in our direction, “Captain, show us Landslide!”
Sidelle sighed good-naturedly, “As if his ego needs any of this.”
“Some other time, friend.” Eurok smirked. “We have a champion to see.”
As we rode away, drums pounded, setting a demanding tempo. The crowd thinned as we passed through another set of stone and wood gates, entering the mountain village of Cedar Shield.
“So what is Landslide?” I asked.
He rolled his lips, then retrieved an ax from his saddlebag that seemed too large to have fit. As he held it up, I marveled at the rivers of emerald running through the blade, catching the light in mesmerizing patterns.
“This is Landslide,” he said, “my gift from the gods.”
“Why have I never seen you with it before?”
“Because I don’t use it.”
I drenched my tone in a heavy dose of sarcasm. “You were gifted a weapon from the gods, and it’s not good enough for you?” I raised a brow and gave a mocking shake of the head. “Just when I think your ego can’t get any bigger.”
He let out a loud, boisterous laugh. “Ah, I don’t need deities to tell me I’m magnificent.”
My eyes rolled. “So, what’s the real reason?”
“Easy. I’ve never been a fan of the divine.” He shrugged a disinterested shoulder. “It never felt right wielding something clearly designed to coax me into ardent admiration.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of his nonchalance for the gods, especially as we rode through a festival dedicated to one.
“How do they deliver such a gift? Did you meet one?”
“Fuck no. They’re way too smug for that. No, I believe it’s different for everyone. I found my sword in the belly of a mule deer I took down before my journey home after our victory in a seven-year battle. We won under my command, and I guess it was their way of saying ‘good job.’”
My brows pinched as my mouth twisted into a grimace.
“What?” he asked.
“Did you still eat the deer?”
Amusement danced on his lips. “Yeah, why?”
“I don’t know—just seems… weird.”
Eurok glanced at me sideways, as if the idea hadn’t crossed his mind. I shot him a similar look, and we burst into a fit of laughter. It was invigorating, like a lungful of fresh air after a deep plunge.
As we ventured deeper into the city, the throng grew denser, yet this gathering appeared to consist mostly of members of the druid army. The slate streets still bustled with dancers, merchants, food stands, and leisure tents, filling the air with the vibrant ambiance of the festival.
At the crest of a tall hill, we dismounted and huddled together, making our way toward a massive stage attached to a beautiful log building, presumably the council lodge. A row of imposing men stood across it, facing the multitude, with Balis positioned near the right end.
I expected hesitance to course through my veins. I prepared myself for guilt to surge at having rejected his every attempt to contact me. What caught me off guard was the sudden urge to throw caution to the wind at the mere sight of his confident smile. He looked so fucking good up there. His eyes trained on me as if I were the absolute center of his focus during this pivotal moment. I drew a shaky breath.
“It’s just the opening ceremony, Mira. Nothing is happening today.” Eurok’s voice was soothing, as if he could hear my heart pounding.
“I know.”
My retort held a defensive edge I hadn’t intended. He laughed and squeezed my shoulder.
Balis’ expression turned fierce, matching the males’ in formation to his right, as an elderly male hobbled onto the stage. The old druid was frail. It seemed as though the only thing keeping him from being swept away by the mountain breeze was his immense, elaborate headdress and long maroon robe, which bore a large wolf skull on one shoulder.
“That’s the shaman,” Eurok explained. “After praying over the ceremony, he’ll bless each contestant with a boon.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Free mana to be used once during the games with no cost to the competitor’s reserves.”
The fragile-looking male stepped before the twelve massive warriors, all clad in their finest leather armor. “The gods again have blessed us with another fine array of champions for this year’s proving games,” he called over the crowd. “It will be my honor to pray over each of these fine young males—”
Young. I snickered to myself.
“—and bestow on each of them a boon to use as they see fit.”
He grabbed a small wooden bowl from a nearby table and approached the leftmost warrior. The male dipped low, letting the shaman apply a single streak of black, oily liquid across his brow. He then swept downward over the competitor’s eyes, giving him a menacing appearance.
“Blessed by the Aupex.” He swept again. “Blessed by the Twelve.” Another sweep. “Blessed by the Empress.” He angled himself toward the crowd, projecting his voice. “Airynn of the rider clan, you have been gifted the boon of healing.”
The lean, muscled druid nodded in thanks and straightened. The audience gave a respectful applause before falling silent as the shaman stepped in front of the next male and began the process again.
“Cyan of the rider clan, you have been gifted with the boon of smoke.”
“Ah, tricky, but a good one.” Eurok nodded approvingly. “You don’t want to disorient yourself, but when used correctly, you gain the upper hand in a fight. You can blind, confuse, or buy you time to outmaneuver your opponent.”
The shaman stepped away from the third male, also from the rider clan, who had been gifted ice wind as his boon.
“Next will be the border clan,” Eurok said.
These males were very similar in looks. They all had the same long, straight curtain of black hair with dark gray skin and eyes of scorching white fire.
“All three of the border clan contestants this year are cousins. Mallak, Anvil, and Salve.”
“Mallak of the border clan, you have been bestowed the boon of invisibility.”
I sucked in a sharp inhale. That seemed like a pretty unfair advantage compared to others given so far.
He continued on to Anvil and Salve. Anvil was gifted burning touch, and Salve, something called quake. The shaman moved on to the next three contestants from the dark clan.
My knowledge of that clan came from snippets of conversations between Eurok and Sidelle. They were known as vicious cave-dwelling druids and were considered the most ruthless among the four clans. Their city, Ebbonrock, was situated in a cave near the rocky shores of western Vylandria, where they spent most of their lives in the dark. Their skin was nearly translucent, a milky white, while their eyes were large and black, devoid of color, like an abyss of nothingness. Where Sidelle’s onyx irises reflected light and possessed obvious life behind them, theirs were cruel and endless, as if they consumed it.
I shuddered at the sight of them. The shaman, though, seemed unbothered as he swept that inky substance across their brow and continued on. The dark clan contestants consisted of Phaegen, Jacolb, and Deacon. They were gifted boons of blinding touch, loop, and shield.
“What’s loop?” I asked Eurok.
“It allows the bearer to jump back in time a few seconds,” he answered.
I didn’t wonder why that would come in handy—another seemingly overpowered gift.
My chest tightened the closer the old shaman got to Balis. After dealing out the boon of waterbody and immobilize to the two mountain clan warriors, it was his turn.
Balis bent at the waist so he might perform the prayer before announcing his boon. My stomach felt as slick and oily as that strange substance the shaman spread over his forehead. My mouth went dry, my palms sweaty.
“Balis Gailstrong of the mountain clan, you are bestowed the boon of focus.”
Focus?It seemed like a rip-off compared to invisibility and burning touch. But Balis nodded with a pleased smile as he straightened, leaving the shaman to say a closing statement before the ceremony commenced. Once over, the crowd erupted into a chaotic mass of cheering bodies. Balis, foregoing the stairs, hopped off the stage and beelined toward me.
I dove deep to wrestle the last dregs of my resolve to the surface, reminding myself why I asked him to leave in the first place. This wasn’t safe. This magnetic pull was a disaster waiting to happen. The stakes were too high to risk it. But seeing him now, bedecked in armor, staring as if he craved to find a dark corner and kiss every inch of my body—none of that seemed to matter as it had before. Gods, help me.
“So you do own a shirt,” I quipped when he reached me.
“You came,” he said, completely ignoring the comment.
“I did.”
His quiet smile weakened me as he offered his arm. “Would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you to the festival, princess?”
I peered over my shoulder to Eurok and Sidelle, caught up in a conversation with a group of decorated warriors. They waved us on, causing me to stifle a groan. Of course.They probably planned this.
At a leisurely pace, we followed the flow of the crowd down the hill and out to the festival.
“So what’d you think?” he asked. “About the ceremony?”
“I think some are more favored than others.”
He gave an acknowledging nod, but his face said he disagreed. “The boons are meant to play off our strengths and sometimes aid our weaknesses.”
“So a boon of healing means that Airynn guy is a great healer?”
“Or a terrible one.”
I caught the familiar decadent scent of cinnamon and sugar. I released his arm and darted through the crowd, Balis rushing after me. He halted with a laugh when he found me paying a vendor for a large bag of assorted roasted nuts. I threw back a handful.
“These are my favorite,” I said around a mouthful.
I licked my fingers, then offered him some. He popped a few into his mouth, nodding with raised brows as he chewed.
The atmosphere buzzed with life throughout the festival, like the mountains surveyed and echoed the joyful honoring of the warriors who would give their lives tomorrow.
Despite my distaste for the games themselves, a large part of me wanted to join in on the celebration. But I couldn’t help the doubt that slithered its way into my thoughts, reminding me only one survived. Would it be him? Or would he be just another pool of blood in the arena’s sand?
Nausea rocked me, reminded again that this was the whole reason I demanded space between us. This constant fucking worrying for his life and how easily he was willing to throw it away. For me. For his people. For his god. How could I let myself have feelings for someone when it was damn near inevitable that we’d lose each other? I forced it all into the depths of my mind, resigning to the fact that I could change nothing.
Ahead, a large circle of druids and humans laughed and chatted, and it occurred to me that I’d never seen so many humans and Vylandrians side by side, wildly enjoying each other’s company.
Following my attention, Balis lowered his mouth to my ear as we passed, causing familiar shivers to spider-walk up my spine. “Many humans here live in the smaller outlying villages of Calrund. We don’t face as much tension out there compared to the royal city. In numerous places, humans and wielders coexist, depending on each other for trade and various necessities. It’s a more synergistic environment than the royal city would have you believe.”
“Do you spend a lot of time there?” I asked, noting the conviction in his tone when he spoke of them.
“I grew up in one,” he said.
“You grew up in a village with humans?”
“More than that. I am half-human.”
My head snapped to him, mouth agape.
“Why so surprised?” He laughed. “What? Did you believe we were the first human and druid to have chemistry?”
I snapped my mouth shut and fought against tight cheeks. His brazen words stoked those still-hot coals between us—a heat that, no matter how hard I stomped on it, always caught at the first sign of kindling. It was simple to tell myself that distance was the wise choice when we had no interactions, but in this captivating environment where the possibilities felt endless, it threatened to ignite a wildfire.
“No,” I shook my head, “it’s just…” My words caught, unsure how to say it without sounding like an unfair expectation, that he was somehow weaker because of his half-human blood. That couldn’t be further from the truth. “I’ve only met a few half-mags before, but…”
“But?”
“You just seem so… different,” I said.
“What is it? Am I stronger? Smarter? Better look–”
“Cockier.” I cut him short.
As we neared another group encircling a fire, that familiar ease between us returned. They were engaged in intimate conversations and warm smiles. I watched, curious, as they passed around a long pipe. Each of them took a drag of the pungent, earthy smoke before passing it onto the next person.
A pretty, dark-haired woman eyed us as we approached. “Would you and your friend like to join, warrior?” she asked, holding up the pipe. “There’s plenty to go around.”
Balis peered at me, mischief in his opulent emerald eyes. I shrugged, willing to seize just about any opportunity I could with him—just for tonight.
We joined the circle, sitting in the spots where people moved aside for us. I studied the process of smoking the pungent plant before it made it to me. When I inhaled for the first time, though, my lungs wretched in agony. The smoke billowed from my nose and mouth like a sputtering fire as I coughed and gasped for a lungful of clean air.
The aged dwarf beside me gingerly patted me on the back, murmuring words of encouragement. “Attagirl, get it out. It’ll do ya some good. Out with the old, in with the new.”
Balis inhaled a long, deep pull, and it occurred to me that he’d done this before. He held his breath a moment and then released a smooth, thick stream of white smoke toward the fire. By the time it rounded to me again, my head was already feeling light. I passed it to Balis, who took another drag. After thanking them, we continued on our way.
We paused again to observe a ritualistic dance performed by the Serandari people. Balis explained they were an immigrant culture who fled their sinking island more than two thousand years ago, who now resided in the rolling hills of southwestern Vylandria. Their beautifully colored ensembles and serpentine dancing were an homage to their dragon god, whom they called the Yellow Dragon.
Their last piece took place just as the sun started its descent, another homage to their dragon god. It began with an elegance that was almost ethereal, moving with grace and fluidity. Then, as they lit their twirling rings of fire and swirled them overhead and along their bodies, the tempo picked up. The beat became heavier, the movements more rapid and feral. Still, a beautiful, ancient story unfolding.
After the Serandari performers finished their act, another group took the stage. They played a wordless melody of chords that began slow and rhythmic before evolving into a sensually captivating vibe. The music drew me in as if I were lured by its spell. Balis followed, and the beat grew louder the closer we got. The drums reverberated in my chest and resonated beneath my feet, yet my focus remained on the comforting touch of Balis’ hand in mine.
We reached the open patch of grass that acted as a dance floor in front of the stage. Amidst the swirling multitude, Balis tucked me under his arm to avoid getting separated.
Whether it was the pipe or the music leaving my mind unencumbered, I wasn’t sure, but I embraced the moment and danced, pulling him deeper into the crowd until we were lost to it. I secured his arms around me as I pressed against him, swaying my hips in reckless circles. Before long, my fingers found the nape of his neck, craving the firmness of his muscles beneath my touch.
He leaned in close, his warm breath brushing against my skin as his hands explored my body. They felt just as I remembered—rough calluses, battle-honed, and strong. They brushed over the curve of my waist, casting away the last of my willpower to stop it. World be damned.
“My gods, you feel so good, princess,” he said in my ear. “I’ve missed you.”
I turned to look up at him, my attention shifting from the heat between our bodies to the fever in his eyes. “Let’s just make the most of tonight.”
A small chuckle lifted the bow of his lips. “You mean because I might be dead tomorrow?”
I didn’t balk at the words. “Yes.”
The heady atmosphere and lightness of my thoughts alleviated my fear. Nothing mattered anymore but this moment.
I studied him through my long lashes as the glow of dozens of fires and fairy lights cascaded above. His heavy-lidded smile drew me in like a moth to a flame. I wrapped another hand behind his neck, relishing the feel of his earthen brown hair between my fingers. The scent of cinnamon, cedar, and smoke on his breath enraptured my senses as the music came to a close.
“I know this is difficult for you,” he began, voice husky, “but thank you for coming.”
“Truth be told, it was against my will.”
He gave a light chuckle at my snarky comment. “Somehow, I doubt that. Nobody is more willful than you.” He pressed his lips to my ear. “You wouldn’t be here,” he purred, gripping my waist with strong hands, “if you didn’t want to be.”
Sweeping a stray hair from my face, I fought the smile that forced its way to my cheeks.
“When Eurok first assigned me to train you, I was angry.” He paused, letting the words hang between us as his thumbs traced little circles on my hips. “I couldn’t imagine what could ever be worth giving up my dream of becoming a commander. But, after meeting you and after witnessing your determination, your instinct to protect, your fight—I get it now.”
I wanted to pry, ask for him to elaborate, but I let the question die on my tongue. His answer wouldn’t matter. If he lived tomorrow, I’d save my question for then. However, if he didn’t, tonight’s answer would only deepen the pain of losing him, which I could hardly handle to begin with.
I tried to recall a moment when I felt that anger he mentioned, but I couldn’t pinpoint one. He could have abandoned me that day—let me face the dangers of drak hybrids, forest beasts, or poachers alone. But he never hesitated—never gave up the mission he was tasked with. It all made sense now; why Eurok sent him. It wasn’t in hopes of me falling for this druid—it was his unyielding faith in who he was as a warrior, and who he served. And yet, somehow, I shifted that faith on its axis when I entered that room with the king. And that was why this was dangerous. I dropped my hands from his shoulders and took a step back.
A conflicted look crossed his features, torn between drawing me closer or giving me space. He never got the chance to decide. The moment was lost to an approaching figure weaving through the crowd—one of the challengers.
The black pools of his eyes seemed impossibly deep, oozing lethal malice. His mouthful of sharp, narrow, pointed teeth made my blood run cold as he stopped a threateningly short distance away, looking down his nose at us. His lips curled over those razor-like teeth, and I almost expected a snake tongue to slither between them. But Balis didn’t flinch. Instead, he seemed to welcome the challenge, as if he predicted it.
“If it isn’t Captain Dramagan’s little bitch,” the stranger sneered in a low, challenging hiss.
“Deacon, how wonderful to see you,” Balis said. “Listen, I know those eyes mess with your depth perception, but do you mind backing the fuck up?”
“Where have you been?” he snarled.
“On assignment.”
“Assignment my ass. You’ve been gone for months.”
My gaze flicked to Balis, wondering where he’d been since I refused his training. Maybe I should have read his letters.
“Nothing is more important than what we face now,” Deacon went on. “So I ask again. Where have you been while your brethren have been fighting this scorn?”
“I don’t answer to you.”
He dared another step. “You don’t belong in these games.”
Balis angled his body, shielding mine. His energy pulsated with anticipation, as if ready to take on the dark druid at the first sign of danger.
“The council seems to think differently,” he said.
“You’re going to die tomorrow, mountain druid.”
My knees quaked at the warning, and my fingers itched to slide my blade between that vile druid’s ribs. If I killed him now, it would be one less opponent for Balis.
“Well, I suppose we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?” Balis stood firm against that hard glare.
Deacon’s gaze shifted to me. His cold, analyzing stare scanned me with a chilling intensity that penetrated my bones.
“Does getting your cock wet in this human child’s pussy have anything to do with your special assignment, mountain druid?”
A rumble of earth-shattering power resonated, and Balis was nose-to-nose with the bastard, his blade aimed at the tender flesh of his throat. Deacon, to his credit, hardly acknowledged it.
A slow, calculated grin spread across his ferocious face. “If you think you have even the slightest chance of winning tomorrow, you’d best be prepared to answer for your whereabouts. Your absence hasn’t gone unnoticed.”
Then he shoved off Balis’ arm and stalked away.