13. Chapter 13
I pulled on the long, flowing skirt, thinking that maybe Agnes had been exaggerating. The slit ran relatively high but covered everything quite well. However, when my maid helped me into the linen shirt, it soon became a battle for us both to close the buttons over my breasts. After several minutes of yanking, cursing, and praying to the gods, my dignity and my breath had long since left my body—but I was finally ready. I exchanged a knowing glance with Agnes, and she quickly found me a shawl.
‘I look like a sacrificial virgin—or a prostitute on her debut,’ I muttered, covering the straining fabric.
I was going to fight a bloody battle in a negligee that would likely prompt cheers for all the wrong reasons. It didn’t help that Valaram’s smirk transformed into a broad, shameless grin the moment I stepped out from behind the privacy screen. If looks could kill, he’d have been a pile of ash on the carpet, but nothing seemed to faze him, so I simply ignored him.
The journey to the arena was thankfully short and silent. Soon, we were in front of the gates to the pit, the entrance for performers and combatants. The heavy iron grate seemed more fitting for a prison, speaking volumes about how the kings of old loved to watch their offenders fight monsters. The arena itself was a towering three-story structure, complete with a special seating area for nobles and a royal balcony, all surrounded by the muffled roar of an eager crowd.
They were here to see me die—spectators with wine-stained lips and greasy fingers clutching roasted meats, ready to enjoy a night of carnage at my expense. I felt utterly alone.
‘ Vahin, I’m afraid and angry. I miss you so much. Wherever you are, if any shred of this reaches you, remember that I love you, my beautiful soul. ’
My thoughts drifted to Orm, my other Anchor, and how much I wished he were here. Not to fight my battle, but to hug me before I faced it. I bet he’d love my outfit , I thought, chuckling and imagining how hard he’d roll his eyes at seeing it.
Interrupting my reverie, the sound of trumpets startled me from my thoughts. With a screech of its unoiled hinges, the iron grate slowly open, and an officer gestured me forward. I walked alone, gripping the hem of my dress when the wind whipped the fabric up around my knees. Not that it mattered.
The hum of the crowd quieted to an eerie silence as I entered the fighting pit. To my left, a massive portal sigil loomed on the wall, etched in a dark red substance that I refused to believe was blood. Several dark fae mages stood near it, nodding in greeting as I passed. The simple gesture halted my steps, and I stood, glancing at the size of the portal until the fae guard touched my shoulder.
‘You are expected to address the empress first, my lady,’ he said, motioning to the royal balcony at the far end of the arena.
I turned towards the balcony, my attention snapping to the figure seated in the centre. The empress. Talena’va Daren’ra. She was beautiful, her silvery skin glowing faintly, her mature but timeless eyes set in a heart-shaped face and framed by a cascade of jet-black hair. Her cold, unyielding gaze could have frozen fire, but I refused to flinch. Next to her sat an uncomfortable-looking Reynard.
My focus shifted, and my stomach churned. Alaric. That bitch chained my fae, I thought. My mate stood shackled on a dais below the empress, dressed only in black leather pants, his wrists bound in iron. Two veiled priestesses flanked him, their presence a sinister omen.
‘What a shit show,’ I muttered under my breath, ‘but at least we have equally ridiculous outfits.’
The guard behind me snorted, his laughter almost friendly. ‘It will be a shame to kill you, mage,’ he said as we walked towards the balcony. The sincerity in his voice surprised me.
‘I don’t intend to die,’ I replied evenly, ‘so don’t get in my way.’
‘I serve the empress, my lady, and I will do what I’m ordered,’ he countered. ‘Still, it is a shame.’
Before I could respond, a spell-enhanced voice cut through the arena.
‘Bring the penitent closer,’ the empress commanded.
Her words carried weight, and I felt it like a shove. Sand crunched beneath my boots as I walked towards her. I understood her need for revenge after her mate was killed, but it didn’t mean I would let her kill mine.
The chanting of mages filled the air, their melodic tones weaving an invocation I couldn’t understand. The thumping of heavy boots was almost deafening as soldier after soldier entered the arena—but I refused to look away from the empress until her mouth twisted in disdain.
‘Behold the one who, in her arrogance, challenges my judgement. She demanded the right to appeal to the Dark Mother’s mercy for this callous murderer chained before you.’ Her disdainful glare bore into me. ‘Did you know that only two couples have survived this trial in its entire history?’
‘Well,’ I replied, my tone casual and defiant, ‘at least that means someone survived, and facing certain death isn’t exactly new for me. I keep trying to die, but it appears Morana 1 doesn’t want me yet. Ask my necromancer. He’s healed me enough times to know that near-death experiences are my favourite pastime.’ I rolled my shoulders with a smirk, as if warming up for a fight.
‘I almost admire your arrogance. Fine, prove me wrong. See if you have what it takes to draw enough blood for the portal’s magic.’ She gestured towards Alaric. ‘My brother told me you strive to protect others. Let’s see if you can strive equally well to kill.’
‘Care to elaborate? I must have skipped a few classes on dark fae customs—I’m not sure I grasp the rules. Who do you want me to kill?’
Talena’s wording, especially the mention of drawing ‘enough’ blood, gave me chills. Did she really expect me to kill people?
‘To open the portal, you must saturate it with the blood of the fallen. A sacrifice is required to enter the Dark Mother’s domain.’
‘I’m assuming we aren’t sacrificing a goat?’ I asked, and both Reynard and Valaram had sudden coughing fits, trying to cover their laughter.
‘No, but you can withdraw, and Alaric will face the consequences of his actions. Enough of this, Lady Annika. End this charade and let me call the executioner!’ The empress’ voice surged with authority, a menacing wave of purple energy radiating from her.
‘If you want me to kill your warriors, I’ll do it, but why not let us go? Let bygones be bygones. No matter how painful the past is, his death won’t bring your mate back,’ I told her, but her expression remained stone-cold. She wasn’t backing down.
‘We are not barbarians, my lady,’ Valaram interjected. ‘No one needs to die except the guilty. All you have to do is shed enough blood to activate the portal. Our healers are ready to take care of the wounded.’
I inhaled sharply. He was risking his empress’ wrath to reassure me.
‘Brother, until the trial is complete, you are not to speak another word, or I will charge you with treason,’ Talena snapped. The ambassador bowed slightly, placing a hand on his chest before sending me a radiant smile. I wasn’t sure why, but his unrepentant help made the ordeal feel slightly less dreadful.
My attention shifted to Alaric as he was dragged towards the portal sigil. Two priestesses chained him in place, their ritualistic movements slow and deliberate. When they cut into his forearms, crimson streaks darkened his pale skin, and I gasped, instinctively stepping forward. Valaram shook his head, halting me. Fury burned in my chest as I watched the priestesses trace the finishing runes in his blood.
‘Alright, Your Majesty. Now that you’ve set the board, what’s next?’ My tone dripped with disdain, and Talena’s lips spread into a cruel smile, her cold eyes gleaming as she studied my outrage.
‘Attack!’ she commanded, her voice reverberating across the arena.
Her order hung in the air for a breathless moment before chaos erupted. The thunder of boots made me turn just in time to see a unit of fae warriors charging towards me. I’d expected more tedious rituals, more theatrics. This outright assault caught me completely unprepared.
Spinning to face the oncoming soldiers, I stumbled on the hem of my torn dress, and the fragile fabric ripped, sending me to the ground.
‘Look out!’ Reynard shouted. I cursed up a storm, but my fall saved my life as a spear flew past, embedding itself in the wall being me.
‘You motherfucker ,’ I gritted through clenched teeth, eyeing the soldier who threw it. I tore away the remaining fabric binding my legs, ignoring how it left my thighs exposed. The arena seemed to shrink as the warriors closed in, armed and relentless.
The situation appeared hopeless. There were at least thirty of them, if not more—all trained warriors, armed to the teeth. Meanwhile, I stood there unarmed and holding the white hem of my dress like a flag of surrender.
Make them bleed, I repeated in my mind, the words becoming a mantra. That was all I had to do—draw blood. My breathing slowed as I entered a hyper-focused state, detaching from fear, anger, and pain. The world around me dulled, narrowing to the singular task ahead.
I noticed that some of my enemies weren’t rushing forward. I felt the telltale shift in the aether; they were casting spells while the others prepared to overwhelm me physically. Their precision, their unity—it was intimidating, but I wouldn’t let it break me.
I looked at the faces of the men rushing towards me, remembering the guard that had accompanied me earlier. None of us had a choice, but it was for Alaric and the future of Dagome. So I would break through the metal and leather armour, smash apart the magical shields protecting them, and make them bleed.
I was no hero. I was simply a woman struggling against the odds to find a sliver of happiness. I didn’t want to leave behind a sea of tears, but I wasn’t afraid of getting my hands dirty.
I slid my foot back, bracing myself as one soldier swung at my chest. Time slowed. I sidestepped, looping a scrap of fabric around his wrist and twisting sharply. His momentum sent him sprawling. Planting my feet, I yanked hard, and a sickening crunch signalled his defeat as he dropped his weapon.
Another soldier lunged at me, but I was quicker, ducking under his blade to seize the hilt. Pain seared my arm as someone else’s blade sliced through my flesh, but I ignored it, not noticing the way the sand hissed when my blood fell onto it, too focused on securing my weapon. When my fingers closed around the handle, a familiar blue fire erupted down its length. Satisfaction flickered as fear lit my opponent’s eyes.
‘That’s right, pretty boy, now run,’ I muttered, slashing his arm and sending a spray of blood into the air. The crowd roared, their cheers drowning out the strange hiss of the sand beneath me.
Surrounded, I released a surge of raw power. It cost me, but it scattered my enemies, giving me precious space to move. I launched into the Dance of the Dead , a deadly kata of fluid movements and precise strikes created for battle mages and designed to allow for the most effective use of blade and magic. It’d been Talmund’s specialty and watching him perform his dance always took my breath away.
My former lover had taught me the basics, and after much trial and error, we had choreographed something that suited my unique talents. Speed and agility were my strengths, and I used them to deliver a flurry of shallow cuts, wearing down my opponents.
The stolen sword sang in my hands as I ducked, spun, and struck with relentless precision. My monster-hunting experience paid off as I moved like a shadow, avoiding fatal blows while I defended myself. When the soldiers pressed too close, I unleashed bursts of magic, though each one drained my strength.
The sand continued to hiss like a viper’s pit, and the sigil on the wall shimmered ominously, its chalk lines bleeding into a dark, wet red.
‘You’re fighting for a murderer!’ a soldier snarled as he fell to the ground, clutching his side.
‘I’m fighting for the whole damn realm,’ I panted, my voice rough. A wave of nausea hit me as magic from the royal balcony lashed at my reserves, sapping my energy.
So much for a fair fight.
I smirked, gripping my sword with trembling fingers. I must have looked like an upiór 2 —a night creature that fed on blood. My smile, now more of a grimace, was likely as appalling as the carnage surrounding me.
With Talena joining the fight, avoiding injury became nearly impossible. Each strike and parry demanded more effort than I could spare, and the relentless bloodletting took a toll on me. Sweat mingled with blood, blurring my vision until my enemies’ faces blurred into one. My knees buckled as I stumbled a few steps closer to the portal, its sinister hum vibrating through the air.
But even as exhaustion weighed on me, I refused to collapse. ‘I will not die here,’ I hissed, dropping to my knees and digging a hand into the sand. It was a risky move, but nobody said I had to play fair.
‘ I?ātum exu affla! ’ 3
Fire erupted from my fingertips, surrounding me as the sand bubbled up and solidified into jagged spears of glass. In desperation, I flung my hand out, the spikes impaling my enemies. Blood poured from their bodies as they screamed, trying to escape, and that was finally enough. Alaric’s iron collar snapped open, falling to the ground. With a distressed cry, he pointed at the portal.
‘Run to me!’ he called out, casting a spell. ‘ Avri’re wrot a Mater Tenebri! ’ 4
The portal shimmered, its surface bleeding crimson before darkening into an abyss so black it seemed to devour the light.
Summoning every ounce of strength I had, I stumbled to my feet, carving a wind sigil into the air. I poured my dwindling aether reserves into the spell, and as the wind pushed against my back, I ran towards the gleaming portal as fast as my legs would carry me.
Just as I neared its threshold, so close that I almost felt the bitter touch of the void, a bolt of energy slammed into my back, sending me sprawling into the sand. Pain erupted as I rolled over, only to feel the sharp sting of an arrow embedding itself in my sword arm.
A scream tore from my throat as I grabbed the wooden stake, yanking it free with shaking hands. The pain blurred my focus, but the distant roar of a dragon jolted me back to the moment. Vahin must have been close, but as another arrow landed close to my head, I didn’t have time to think.
‘ Little Flame, ’ his thoughts thundered through my mind, furious as he sensed my pain. ‘ Stay where you are. I will burn the bastard that attacked you. I’ll turn this place into a funeral pyre for what they’ve done to you! ’
‘Please no, just wait for me, promise me you’ll wait . . .’ I cried, grunting when Alaric wrapped his arm around my waist to drag me through the portal. As we crossed the threshold, the icy fingers of the void enveloped my mind, breaking our connection.
For one long, weightless moment, it was just me, the bitter regret of all I hadn’t said, and my fear that there would be nothing to come back to after my dragon unleashed his wrath on the city.
I wish I’d had time to say goodbye ... Why didn’t I tell him I loved him?
Something had changed in Vahin’s heart. His thoughts, usually calm and steady, were filled with grief and violence—and the primal fear that he would lose me, too.
And when dragons fear, death dances on the bones of the living.
1. Morana — goddess of death and winter.
2. Upiór /pron:u-pi-oor/ — an undead being that arises from one cursed upon their death, appearing as a freshly deceased corpse. An upiór drives their strength from drinking and bathing in the blood of the living and can kill with their shrieks.
3. Burn into a shape!
4. Open Dark Mother’s gate.