27. Elara
Chapter 27
Darkness swallowed me the second the heavy doors slammed shut. The hall was overpacked, I could tell that much if only from the stench, the aroma of sweat and smoke and liquor mixed with something that reeked of piss. I cringed, trying to keep my head up high as I walked into the fighting arena.
Screams and cheers were everywhere, they cut through the ashy shadows that swallowed the crowd and rattled the sand and bark that covered the floor of the well-lit fighting ring.
The announcer, or at least who I hoped was the announcer stood in the middle of the light, the pompous man smiling and waving to the crowd as he gestured toward me and whoever else stood in the shadows behind him, beckoning us to come closer.
My heart was in my knees as I forced myself to continue walking, trying to keep my head high and my hands from tugging at the leathers that were now the least of my worries.
The shadows behind the announcer shifted as my opponent came closer, my eyes watching the hulking mass as I stepped into the ring of light. Then, as though the sound had been sucked from the room everything went wholly silent, that tingle under my skin increasing as though it sensed the change.
I had assumed that no one would recognize me, I hadn’t been allowed out of my cage enough for people to know who I was, but this man did. Judging by the mixture of gasps and hissed whispers that were now slicing their way toward the crowd, everyone who didn’t know, soon would.
“The… The Princess Elara.” The announcer's voice carried through his gasped stutter and I turned, smiling and waving even though there was currently a high risk that I would vomit all over everyone.
Through the dark I could make out a few faces, all of them shocked. All of them confused.
But only one was furious.
My mother, Queen Dalyah, stood before her icy throne at the far end of the hall, her face screwed up in savagery. Her icy eyes burned red; her hands clenched at her sides. My father, in his throne beside her, sat with a broad smile, there wasn’t a drop of that glazed confusion in his eyes. He turned to whisper something to my Uncle Jahn, who was smiling nearly as wide as my father.
As was Aeinya who seemed absolutely elated at what was currently unfolding. She bounced in her seat, clapping her hands in glee. Those three smiles pulsed through me, sending ripples of heat over my skin from where the circlet of hair was wound around my wrist. I tried to smile even as the gasps and shock of the audience turned into a low boil of cheers and confused applause.
Perhaps I could do this. Seeing them made it so that everything didn’t feel quite so impossible, well, that was until I turned from Aeinya’s glee to the Sun Prince that was sitting right beside her.
Batian.
Mother was not the only person who was furious. Batian sat in a chair of stone and glass, his fingers white and glowing as they curled around the ends of the arm rests. I had never seen him angry, I had never seen anything other than a smile on his lips. But there he sat, eyes wide, mouth pinched; he looked as though it was taking everything in him not to rush to me. Not to rage at me.
I flinched at seeing him, seeing that anger. He should be cheering with the rest of them. I stared at that fury, the momentary hope melting as Aeinya turned, her joy fading as fast as mine as she hissed something at him.
“The Princess Elara of Okivo,” the announcer amended his initial confusion to use my title, his voice still shaking as he tried to take control of the quickly deteriorating crowd. “She will face Lix, from the high court of Spryv.”
It was then that the shadows behind the announcer shifted, some of the cheers returning as the shadows broke apart and the man known as Lix entered the arena.
Well, whatever hope that had remained after seeing Batian’s fury was officially gone, any heat that had been skittering over my skin turned to ice. By the Goddess, I was doomed.
Lix stood at least two widths above my frame, my nose coming to the center of his chest. He towered over me, his frame as broad as he was tall. He wore no shirt, the tanned skin of the desert people stretched over muscles so broad and firm that if this man couldn’t crush me with his pecks I would be surprised.
He was pure muscle, every inch of him rippled and cut. Even his nipples looked like they might be able to cut me. It didn’t even matter if Aeinya had paid him off to not use his magic, one swipe of his mighty nipples and I’d be a goner.
I swallowed, or I tried to, I couldn’t quite make my throat move, not to mention that my mouth had gone horrendously dry.
This was not what I had signed up for.
This was not what Aeinya had told me about.
‘Everything was going to plan?’ My ass it was going to plan! What was she thinking?
I chanced a glance at the culprit, even as the monstrous man lumbered forward, smashing his fists together in a way that would easily crush my skull. Each step Lix took rattled the floor, sending me near to the floor. I glanced at Aeinya who no longer looked pleased with herself. She looked down right scared.
Batian stood as the arena exploded in cheers and screams, announcer backing into the shadows with a single shout.
“Fight!”
Lix did not hesitate, even as I stood there like a lead weight, still not one hundred percent sure that I wasn’t going to upend the contents of everything I had ever eaten all over this arena. He wasn’t very fast, not that that mattered.
“Move!” Someone screamed from behind me, the sound supercharging all those prickles of energy that were still roaming over my skin.
I shifted at the shout, rolling onto the ground and away from the fist that compacted with the air right where my head had been a second before. The crowd erupted as I found my feet, the silty floor sliding beneath my gloriously grippy boots.
This fight was going to go nowhere without a weapon. I could dodge him, sure, but it was only a matter of time before he got tired of me and squished me. Magic or no, this man was dangerous. I needed a weapon if I was going to fight.
Which I needed to do if I had any interest in seeing tomorrow.
Ripples of starlight and fire raced over my skin in a frantic rumble as I ran toward the wall of weapons, my eyes locked on the sword that would be the most familiar to me. The crowd roared as the floor vibrated, as if I needed any more warning that the monster of a man was steps behind.
“Dodge!” That same voice yelled, the low tone frantic. I did as the mysterious man said, darting over and away from the paw of a hand that was grasping at air inches above my head. I had always been small, but this might have been the first time I could use that to my advantage.
Taking one leap, I pushed myself forward, right to the rack of weapons, and the sword that I knew would be my only hope. Grabbing that sparkling hilt, I lifted it, and it promptly fell to the ground.
The metal was cold against my hand as I gripped it, the weight of it pulling my arms down as the sharp point dug into the sand. I tried to lift it, to swing it, to fight with it. It didn’t budge.
It was in that moment I realized the folly of training for years with nothing but wooden swords. I could not lift the one thing that I was reliant on to see me out of there safely.
“By the Goddess,” I mumbled, dropping the useless sword to the side and grabbing the next closest thing off the rack. A silver dagger. The thing was light, sure, but far too short. At least I could lift it, and it had a point which was thankfully sharp and gleaming as I raised it. Lix made another grab at my frame and my dagger plunged right into his palm.
The feeling of the blade moving through flesh was not something I ever wanted to experience again; the pop of flesh, the flood of warm wet blood that trickled over my hands as that coppery tang of salt and death filled my nostrils. I held back the panic and nausea as the massive man howled. He pulled back with a howl of rage, I clung to the dagger, the irony scent of blood everywhere as the red blood flowed over the blade and down my arms
“This will work,” I mumbled as I ran from the screaming Lix, my leather boots gripping and crunching the bark and sand that coated the floor.
Lix was still howling as I raced around toward his back, the sound of the crowd nothing but noise as I spun to the expanse of muscled skin and lifted my dagger, ready to sink the blade between his shoulder blades.
The point hadn’t even made contact with his flesh before that voice yelled again, and Lix whirled, his arm colliding with my gut. The force pushed whatever air I had out in a scream as I arced through the air, soaring through nothing before slamming into the ground and sliding against the floor in a plume of sandy dust.
The Boy and I had been fighting for years. I knew how to use a sword, how to do simple hand to hand combat. I did not, however, know how to take a real hit because the Boy never really hurt me, he had always stopped just before.
But now, lying on the ground, all of those muscle aches from this morning came racing back. Everything ached, everything screamed.
Lix stood, hands in the air as he celebrated his easy victory, the crowd already cheering and screaming in congratulatory glee. I tried to get up, to shift my weight at least, but nothing would move. I lay there, muscles screaming, body groaning as Lix turned, a cruel smile pointed right at me.
“Stupid little Dri. Everyone knows what you really are.” He laughed, the sound as cruel as his smile before he charged. “Worthless.”
A Dri.
The word stung almost as much as all the times Mother had used it, all the times I had heard it whispered in the halls. All the years I had fought to prove I was so much more.
All those times that had led me to this arena, it had fueled the heat that was now screaming against my skin as though it was trying to get out.
It couldn’t end like this.
“Get up!” It was that same voice, the tone frantic now. The floor continued to vibrate, the screams of the crowd joining with each beat as the floor shook.
“Get up, Elara! You have to get up!”
I screamed in a roar as I pulled myself to my feet, that prickling energy erupting over my skin in spots of heat.
He had told me to wait till the last minute, well this felt pretty close to that. I tried to focus on all of those waves of heat and power, to throw whatever magic was inside of me right at that defiant face that was clearly planning my death.
The death of a Dri.
Nothing came but my roar.
He laughed as he reached me, his massive fist already swinging. Every muscle in my body was screaming, but I dodged, darting down and to the side, toward the weapons, and my already blood covered dagger that was laying in the sand.
“Good!” The man yelled again, the sound nearly drowned out by the cruel laugh of my mother, as someone that I could have sworn was Batian yelled at her.
I chanced a glance right as I reached the dagger. Dalyah stood, laughing at my supposed destruction. Batian was beside her, screaming at Mother and pointing at the arena floor. I wasn’t even sure if he saw me.
Father, however, sat on the edge of his seat, he and Uncle Jahn whispering something as they watched, that same awe and pride on their faces.
That was enough to keep me going.
Which was good, because Lix was thundering his way toward me again.
Dagger held firmly in my hand, I pointed it toward him, ready to stab his hand or toe or whatever I could get within reach. He was enjoying playing with me, even as his Catalyst circled the arena, ready to ignite his magic at any time.
I tried again to target the power that was rumbling through my bones, the vibrations moving toward my hand as I held the dagger out, ready to attack if he came any closer.
Lix pulled to a stop, large broken teeth emerging in a grin that was just as vile.
“We don’t need Dri’s in our world.” The growled threat cut deep as he moved his hands back, his Catalyst smiling as the power between them ignited and he prepared to finish me with the fire that was now flicking on his fingertips.
I was doomed.
I could only stare. Aeinya had said he wouldn’t use magic, that she had paid him off. I looked to Aeinya, who was staring in horror. Batian was still yelling at Mother, who was smiling.
We were wrong, we were all wrong, he would dare kill the princess. They all would, because I didn’t have magic.
Because I was a useless Dri.
Except, I wasn’t.
Not anymore.
Now was the time to show them that.
The energy in me was everywhere, it flooded every inch of my skin as his magic circled his hand in a taunt. I focused on my own burning power, the heat pressed against the palm of my hand as I clung to the dagger. It was there, trying to escape. No matter how much I focused on the Fae hair, on the burn of that power that was screaming inside of me, nothing was coming. It wasn’t enough… it was too late.
That was until the blade of the dagger began to glow.
That same white light I had seen that first night ignited through the blade, even Lix’s power dimmed as the sounds of the crowd changed.
I focused on the blade, pressing all of that heat and sparking energy into it with a scream. The sound ripped from me, my throat bleeding and raw as the light exploded over everything in a boom. Pops of white light rippled over the walls, reflecting over everything in a blinding explosion. Everything went white, the screams fading as the white did to reveal Batian standing between me and Lix, his own hands glowing ominously.
“This match is over,” Batian yelled, his voice a deep boom that silenced everything. “By order of the Ramal.”
Batian’s fury radiated off him with more power than the light that was still flooding from his hands, that was filling every inch of the immaculate hall. I could see every face now, see the fury and the shock and the confusion. They all looked around in question, but I turned to Batian.
Batian who was staring right at me, that fury burning a hole right through me.
I dropped the dagger, the light that had been flooding through it extinguishing the second it hit the sand.
Not that anyone noticed, not that anyone would know where that power had come from. The Sun Prince was right there, the power of the sun rippling from him.
No one saw anything from me.
I wasn’t even sure I had.