8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Ariella
W hispers of retreating footsteps greet me as my escort walks in the opposite direction. The darkness surrounding me is so thick I’m sure my mind will begin to form human-sized shapes in it soon. I nearly reach for extra fabric to cover my eyes, but I’m still unsure of how the artifacts are to be identified, so that could be a hindrance to my performance.
The guard who walked me down here—quite roughly—ordered me like a pet to stay put until a horn sounded, indicating the beginning of the trial.
“Do not move before you hear it,” her grating voice deepens. “Unless you wish to be griffin dinner.” Her hollow laugh follows those impressively light footsteps, dismissing my need for answers.
How in the Aether would they know if we began before the horn? Do they have a weaver who can map others’ essence? That would require the Ethereal strand, and as far as I’m aware, the castle should not have any weavers of the sort. My jaw clenches. Of course they do…all the royals are good for is lying. Just another reason to remove their presence from the Kingdom .
I lean back against the wall, thankful for the cool touch of the stone along my neck. I remind myself to always wear this outfit to trials in the future, because I would have been thoroughly fucked had I worn my leathers. I run my hands down the soft fabric, sparking awareness along the curves that hide under the fitted material.
This is not the time for such feelings, so I focus on my surroundings. With my vision obsolete, it’s easier to hone in on my other senses. Breathing slowly through my mouth, a faint mineral taste permeates the stale air. There’s a muted scuffle in the distance; most likely a rat navigating these tunnels better than I ever will. But the sound of its small feet is surprisingly loud, and I tap my fingers along the hilt of my dagger at the thought.
This will certainly be more difficult than I imagined.
Especially because the tunnels are thinner than I had hoped. I took in what little information I could before the darkness completely engulfed me on the way down here. Dark, cracked stone makes up the entirety of this suffocating maze. I thought, just for a moment, that I saw claw marks along one wall. Though it’s easy for the mind to play tricks when stressed.
If someone were to walk past me, we’d both need to be flattened to the walls to not touch. As much as I would love to dress in the brain matter of my fellow contestants, especially Sivara, that would be a waste of my time and too risky. I must use every bit of training I have to keep myself hidden .
The shadows will not save me here.
My eyes shoot to my left, where the sound of the horn echoes from. It is surprisingly louder than expected. Taking one last deep breath, I blanket myself in the words of my mentor.
Even in the darkness, a skilled hand guides.
“Thank you, Marek,” I mouth, opening my useless eyes and taking the first step into this competition. Marek forced me to train with a blindfold for years, insisting that adapting to use all senses in any situation was important. I rolled my eyes at him more times than I care to admit, but it is in this moment that I understand the value of those lessons.
I walk slowly for several minutes, refusing to hurry my way through. Haste is a fool’s mistake down here. My hand falls into empty space as I find a split in the tunnel. Inwardly cursing myself for not considering this, I feel around the space and learn there is an opening in each direction. Based on where the guard led me through the castle, I believe the tunnel to my right is the best option.
As I lift my foot to turn the corner, I freeze at the even breathing passing through the intersection. The individual pauses, probably noticing the choice that needs to be made. I breathe shallowly, not even daring to fully set my foot down. They walk closer, stopping just in front of my stiffened body. A hand inches toward my dagger as I listen to them think about their next move .
I will shove this blade into their skull if they make for the tunnel I intend to traverse; but luck must be on their side because just when I think they’ll take a step forward, they turn to go in the direction I was walking. My hand relaxes, and I wait several minutes—until I’m certain they’re far enough away to no longer be an issue until I start my path again.
I wind through several more junctions, mapping my decisions to the layout of the castle above me. I cannot be certain I’m still facing the direction I believe I am, though my gut tells me to continue. I mouth letters with every turn, memorizing the path I will need to eventually get out of here.
“Fuck!” I pause at the distressed voice, melting into the wall as grunts break through my concentration. At least two competitors grapple as they close the distance to me, forcing me to side-step a few paces to my left. They throw punches and kicks for a minute before one makes a choking noise, struggling to find the air needed to continue their fight. The other person groans deeply before a definitive crack fills the space, and my eyes widen at the sound of a body thudding to the ground.
The victor lets out a heavy breath, spitting in my direction. My nose scrunches at the gurgling noises they make, not at all trying to hide their location. Heavy steps run past me, my abdomen tensing when the lightest brush of their skin sweeps so close to my breasts. They must not notice because there’s no pause as they continue running back the way I came. I stick my foot out as I move forward, not wanting to trip over the cooling body. I listen for a moment when I find them, making sure I’m truly alone.
Well, as alone as I can convince myself I am.
Crouching, I lightly pat the body. Obviously a man, I figure when my fingers graze his dick. I feel for anything useful, though it seems the only weapon this idiot brought was his hands.
And how did that work out for you? I think, rising to step over him.
I return to my place against the wall, keeping light contact as I navigate for what seems like hours. The hairs along my neck rise when my mind convinces itself someone’s breath breezes over the exposed skin. I am not proud to admit that I must remind myself several times that the brain plays tricks when deprived of its senses.
I must be the trick, confusing my body instead, so it focuses its delusions elsewhere.
Eventually, I open my mouth to compensate for the thickening air. It’s more difficult to stay silent, though I have a feeling that will not be my most significant problem soon. The tunnels shrink the closer I am to the center; and though I’m tense from the lack of space, it feels like encouragement. As if the eerily silent labyrinth is guiding the way to what I need.
My lungs stall when the sound of metal crashing fills every morsel of silence. Someone curses quietly, and from the noises they make, I believe they are rummaging through a pile of metal .
The artifacts.
I walk forward, my fingernails scraping the cracks embedded in the wall. When I reach another crossing, I peek around the corner as there seems to be some kind of light in this direction.
Are you fucking kidding me?
I run fingers over my slick forehead, scrunching my eyes closed. How in the Aether’s fucking realm am I supposed to hide a glowing artifact all the way back to the throne room? I have encountered too many others already, but with an artifact I may as well run through the tunnels screaming the coordinates to my exact location.
Well, it seems I have no choice. The faint memory of the king describing the different artifacts comes to mind. The range in their sizes is enough to convince my feet to move swiftly—fuck if I'll become stuck with one of the large ones. I call to my shadows, silently thanking the Angel that it’s too dark for any contestant to notice.
The idiot who was calling every being in the realm here with his noise jerks to his feet at the sound of my steps. I do not bother to hide the noise as he cannot see me, anyway. I watch his body shiver when I pass in front of him, scanning the artifacts with haste. The urge to sink my blade into his skull when he makes a whimpering noise and runs is strong. I don’t, unfortunately. The oddly glowing objects in front of me are more important .
Looking through the dozen that are left, I bite the inside of my cheek when none of them appear to be the best choice. They are all various gilded items that seem to be illuminated from the inside; I’m unsure how they managed that, as the artifacts are solid and opaque.
Come on, Ariella. I cannot afford straying thoughts. Especially not when most of the other contestants have not been here yet. Something tells me they will be soon. I almost feel sorry for those who will be stuck with the large staff or chest plate.
My muscles become antsy after another minute, and I relent, reaching for the rusted candelabra when my fingers brush through a barely-there light. Carefully leaning forward on my hands and grimacing at the grainy texture, I look back against the wall where there is a hidden alcove. I see the smallest glow from inside, and against my every instinct telling me to not stick my hand in unknown places, I reach two fingers in. At first I feel nothing, but I stretch my knuckles, my hand cramping from the force. Something cool touches my skin. I drag it out quietly, and inwardly squeal when I see it is a ring with the same light the other artifacts have.
Well, fuck me…the Angel does listen sometimes.
I shuffle to a crouch, moving to slide the ring on one of my fingers but stop abruptly. I may need my hands to fight, and it would be difficult to guarantee their concealment the entire journey back. Before I can think further, I pinch the ring and reach down my fitted top, pushing it into the side of my bra. I ensure it’s tucked snugly before springing to my feet and walking back toward my starting position.
The lack of other contestants and ease of navigating my way out of the tunnels is unsettling. The anticipation coursing through me turns my stomach as I wait with bated breath for something to happen. I’m several turns back, the space around me widening once again, and I release a relieved sigh.
That was mistake number one.
Mistake number two? Not being alert enough to quickly register the whooshing next to my ear. A hard object knocks into my cheek, though I barely register the pain as I immediately go on the defensive, crouching and silently unsheathing my blade.
“Where are you, little wraith?” I weightlessly tread so stone is at my back and wait for the best opening I have to end this with minimal damage. I do not recognize the voice, though clearly most of the other contestants here loathe me, so I suppose it does not matter who it is.
They’re dead, regardless.
“Come on, kitten! Why don’t you and I have a little fun before I cut your heart out? I can’t wait to see the king’s face when I present him the flesh of his favorite toy.” Kitten? I grimace. “I know it’s you…I can smell your brand of fear. You may as well quit cowering in the shadows.” My lips thin as I bite my cheek hard to keep in a laugh. What a fucking idiot .
Those who need to use words to be intimidating are the greatest cowards. They have nothing but mindless banter to offer and hope that the sting of their utterances is enough to ward away enemies.
I close my eyes and focus my ears, wondering if the air down here holds a minute amount of sound. It’s loud enough to cloud some of my attention, though I am still able to hear my opponent step past me. The moment his back is to me I stand and press my blade to his throat, satisfied with my estimation of his height.
“Let the Angel know I’ll be seeing it soon,” I purr into the man’s ear, slicing through layers of thick skin until I hit the sweet spot that will drain his life away. My eyes roll at the frantic gurgling noises he makes, slipping on his own blood. His head must be what slams into the stone as his struggles cease immediately upon his fall.
I turn, spinning my slick blade through my fingers as I navigate the remaining distance of this trial with renewed energy. I am almost disappointed when I meet no other contestant in the tunnels before a sliver of light appears high in my peripheral.
Ascending the steps hastily, I knock twice on the thick, wooden door, wincing from how loud the action seems. The woman who escorted me down swings it open, raising a brow when she sees the blood coating my hands. Sliding my blade back in place, I follow the guard the unnecessarily long distance back to the throne room.