Chapter 34
The stadium circled around me, rows of packed seats rising up into the curves of the dome, the cloudless blue sky twinkling behind the oculus.
Without the layers of earth and stone to pad out the noise, the elves’ cheers were nearly unbearable. The acoustics made it worse, melding their shouts into one singular, ear-splitting roar.
Hands exchanged money. Lips whispered bets. Popcorn littered the floor. How were they excited for this? It was bloodshed, not entertainment.
Gritting my teeth, I fought the instinct to lower my gaze and cup my palms over my ears, to shut it all out.
But I needed to keep my chin up, to look them straight in the eyes, so they would think I wasn’t scared—even if the fear was a steady rumble in my veins.
Right away, I found the royal box, positioned above another barred entrance directly across from mine. Symbols marked the ring of stone dividing the pit I was in from the seating.
I didn’t have time to decipher what they meant—a whistle, steady and harsh, drifted to my ears. A silhouette walked across the sand, dark hair, stiff shoulders, arched shadows casting from their back.
As they drew closer, my dwarven blade sang a song so high-pitched it could shatter glass. I kicked the side of my boot where it remained hidden, mentally ordering it to shut up. It didn’t, of course—it was just a weapon—and it’d been magically configured to warn me of his presence.
Ryder.
All the air left my lungs.
He halted several yards away. The whistling quieted. I could feel the hollowness of his gaze, the pity, roving all over me.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
Before he could answer, Hildur held up her hand. Cheers fell to hushed whispers, which quickly fell to silence, her ruthless, loyal followers bright-eyed and ready for blood. My angel senses pricked up as if they were a second pair of eyes, keeping watch on Ryder.
“My kingdom.” The Queen of the Elves rose from her gilded seat, addressing the crowd with a soft sweep of her arm. “We have a very special event in store for today.”
My gaze flicked to Ryder. He hadn’t moved, but his face had gotten paler, and the dimple between his brows could almost pass for a sign of concern.
“This is quite unheard of,” the queen said, tapping her fingertips together, “but it appears we have two participants.”
Two? My pulse skittered.
In the break for applause, Hildur’s indigo gaze met mine, eyes slitted. Assessing.
I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing an empty stare, not letting it drift away from hers.
“The Angel of Water has called upon the old gods for a pardon, a mercy, a wish. One that requires sacrifice, as was the way of our ancestors.” She bowed her head. “Let’s take a moment to remember their strength. To remember where we came from.”
With the elves distracted, every head folded in silence, I seized the opportunity to shoot a quick glance at Ryder. He was already staring, lips pursed, cheeks flushed, panicked.
“What is going on?” I mouthed.
He held up his hands, shaking his head.
Unlike that night at the Boardwalk when he’d been all wry grins and harsh threats, right now he actually looked confused. He ran his hand through his hair, his sleeve crinkling up over his bicep, and I caught a tendril of inky blue.
His river tattoo—the one that tethered our souls and taken him to the Heimer Tofra, and the very thing that pulled him out and put him into this death game when I enacted elven law.
Yet, this time, only one of us would be making it out.
Jaw tight, I turned to the stadium, eyes raking over the crowd, searching for my friends in the audience. Freyja stood beside her mother, clasping her elbows, mouth tight. Gunnar patrolled one of the aisles, expressionless, steps featherlight. Olivia… Where was she, where was she?
As Hildur raised her head, I spotted Olivia in the second row.
“Today,” the queen continued, “the old gods have been awakened. They have chosen a worthy opponent.”
Sand shifted beneath me. The ground was shaking, moving. With a laborious groan, a third barred door to the arena rose up into the stone as the ones Ryder and I had come in through slammed shut.
Fanfare erupted.
Warning bells rang through my mind.
“It is with great honor I present to you the Ludi Mortales, our first in over one hundred and fifty years.” The sage pieces of chiffon that made up her gown shimmered in the midday sun as she turned to meet the eyes of the eager elven spectators.
Dropping her pitch, she spoke in an ancient tongue, “Ab astris venimus, ad astra surgimus.”
“Numquam ignosces, numquam obliviscar,” the entire room muttered back as one, with a reverence that was almost holy.
Shifting in the grit, I stared into the open maw of darkness on the other side of the arena, every hair follicle standing up. My knees bent, back arched, elbows out. Proper defensive form—I think.
Out of the corner of my eye, Ryder drew himself into a fighting position.
In one swift motion, I swooped the dagger out of my boot, the handle cool in my grasp.
I didn’t need to acknowledge him—I could feel the shock radiating off him that I was armed. A smirk tugged at my lips; it was satisfying, really.
It didn’t last long.
Growls came from the unlit chamber, rattling the single, circular windowpane high above, shaking silt loose from the walls. A line of steam blew out of the tunnel, scalding the ground.
Smoke rose from the scorch marks, dissipating in the tense air. With a quick nod at each other, Ryder and I crept towards the opening. The crystal fractals embedded in my hilt flared an electric blue, pulsing brighter as the space between us got shorter.
Three glowing white orbs appeared in the darkness, disappearing for a heartbeat before burning back to life. Eyes—curious, intelligent. Suspicious, but familiar—like this wasn’t the first time they’d seen me.
I stilled. Ryder did the same.
Giant paws moved out of the shadows, blue-black flames lapping up the midnight fur, twisting towards the sky. Razor-sharp claws retracted, piercing the dirt.
The jelmadag stepped into the light.
“You,” I whispered.
“Stay back,” Ryder directed, arms wide, ready to strike. Although I wasn’t sure how much damage they’d do to a cat made of fire…
Me. The word bellowed across the sand, my bones, an echo inside my skull.
The elves were so still, they were near lifeless. My head shot towards Ryder. He hadn’t moved either, as if… no one else could hear the voice but me.
How? Tripping over my feet, I stumbled to create more distance. All dozen eyes homed in on the shift of my muscles, my pulse throbbing in my neck, cold and calculating. Why?
The dark flames threaded with the demon’s mane shuddered in an absent draft. I was summoned.
No. I shook my head. Why can I hear you? I glanced at the elves, at Ryder. And none of them can?
“River,” Ryder called, his accent smooth and enchanting. “Give me your dagger.”
My face twisted. “Absolutely not.”
“You don’t know what this beast is capable of.” He inched closer, as if I were the wild animal he needed to trap. “Hand me the weapon and let me deal with it.”
“And then what happens?” I shot back. “You’ll deal with me?”
I swore there was a wicked gleam to his eye—but even if I’d just imagined it, I couldn’t take the chance: once the jelmadag was dead, he’d have no other choice but to turn the blade on me. There would only be one winner, and it wouldn’t be the first time Ryder put his duty before me.
Seven sins, can we cut the small talk? Nostrils flared, the demon let out a chuff—coils of steam unfurled from his nose, snuck out the corners of his mouth. I’m starved.
My eyes went wide. Y-you mean, you’re going to eat us?
Dear girl, what else am I to do with you two?
Maybe I should have given Ryder the dagger.
The jelmadag lunged—a flash of midnight shadow arcing through the air.
Cheers broke the heady silence. The noise swirled around me, catching my attention so I didn’t hear or see Ryder coming. Almost a second too late, he grabbed my wrist and flung us out of the way.
“Focus, Riv. I’m not the enemy.” Ryder snapped his fingers and pointed at the jelmadag. “That is.”
Dark paws slammed into the ground, tiny licks of blue-tinted flames searing the dirt. The air around the beast was hot, warped, wavering like a mirage.
I’ve met plenty of other demons before, I said between breaths that stabbed like knives. A sharp tug dragged me away. Ryder. Dust kicked up from the thuds of our boots. Why are you the first I can speak mind-to-mind with?
Really? At least a third of the jelmadag’s spider eyes rolled while the others stayed fixed on me. The first ever?
Well, there were others, but they were—
Angels. And angels and demons were… different sides of the same coin.
Was that so hard? Fanning his feathers, the creature let out a spine-curling roar. A thin silver chain glinted in the space between his shoulder blades, pinning his wings.
Thank goodness he couldn’t fly.
That was rude.
Oops. Forgot he could hear me.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s even ruder to talk with your mouth full.
My blood froze in my veins. Wait!
Pressing off his hind legs, he pounced.
Pinned wings or not, the jelmadag was fast—too fast.
I narrowly dodged him again.
“We have to keep it moving, keep exhausting its energy,” Ryder said over his shoulder as we aimlessly sprinted through the pit, “unless you’re down to let me handle the weapon?” A knowing smirk darkened his stare, shadows eclipsing the golden green.
Arrgghhh. The demon’s cry rang in my skull, a sound of pure exasperation. Will you two just sit still?
“No.” I dropped Ryder’s hand. I wasn’t going to sit still or hand over my dagger—I was going to fight back.
I lashed out, hoping to catch my beastly opponent off guard.
Steel carving through the air, my blade met the creature’s claws with a clang that vibrated down the metal to my hand, my wrist, my arm. My teeth clamped down.
This can’t be how you face all your adversaries, I taunted. Sweat lined my upper lip. What do you do, bore them to death with your complaining?
The lone lamb leg growing out his chest kicked helplessly. Usually, I’m well-fed before a battle.
I twirled out of the way, slashing up in a quick, clean arc. My dagger met fur, resistance, and sudden heat burning up my forearm.
Lips curled back and steam spewed out of the demon’s mouth, hot and hissing. I brought my knife in front of me, looking like a toothpick against his gigantic bone-crushing fangs.
Hot wind blew strands loose from my braid. When I looked up, all I saw were the blistered pads of paws, curled black flews, and the bottomless depths of an abyssal throat.
“River!” Ryder yelled.
I darted to the side. The jelmadag crash-landed, biting at the now-empty space I’d been standing in.
Ryder rushed over and tore the singed fabric off my calf. On the ground, it bubbled and scorched to a crisp. My skin screamed pink where the demon’s fire had gotten me, but otherwise there were no blisters, no burns to my leg.
What’s this now? Neck swaying like a serpent, the beast slowly pitched his head up.
I—I gulped. I don’t know.
Do you know what hellfire does to those that come in contact with it? His onyx mane rippled with the words. One lick of it should melt the skin off your bones.
Faint tendrils of smoke rose from the charred hole in my pants. My leg tingled, but it was true—there wasn’t even a mark, as if it hadn’t made contact with my flesh, but a body of... Water.
You should be a pile of ash right now. And yet you stand before me, whole.
Ryder wrapped his hand around mine, giving it a tug. “Let’s move.”
Planting my feet, I sank my heels into the ground.
“C’mon!” His head swiveled towards the jelmadag and back to me frantically. “We can’t just stand here!”
I didn’t go. Instead, I turned towards the demon, eyes burning hot, tears collecting on the lash line—probably from the steam seeping out of his pores.
“River.” For the first time in my life, I heard Ryder gasp. “Your eyes…”
Is this a trick of the old gods? the demon demanded.
What? I thought. Bringing my blade parallel to my face, I peered at my reflection. Blue flames danced around my pupils, the irises transformed into heavenly fire, just like the angels etched into the stained-glass window in my dad’s office.
My Source raged inside me, stronger than an ocean storm. It rushed over my skin, a cool and velvety current of power, like an invisible shield.
Like it was protecting me.
After all, water repelled fire.
“We’ll be fine, Ryder.” I brought the dagger to my side. Then with a confident smile, I said, “I’m the Angel of Water.”