Chapter 18 #2
“At your command, my king.” The guard drew his weapon and signaled to another demon standing nearby, and they circled Aryana. She studied the demons, fairly certain she could defeat both of them.
But Zarathos’s warning about revealing her fighting skills remained fresh in her mind. So she raised her hands and stood, letting them escort her away from Zarathos and into the palace.
The castle hallways were carved right out of the stone, inlaid with gold filigree in the arches.
Heavy curtains concealed window alcoves, each with a bench tucked inside.
Now and then, a curtain was pulled shut.
Aryana wondered why until the low moans and drifting scents made the reason unmistakably clear.
The guards dragged her down a winding flight of stairs that wove in a spiral ever downward.
Lanterns hung along the walls, flickered in and out of her vision like silent, silvery ghost-lights.
They lead her down another hallway. Here there were no windows, and the walls were much less polished, no gold adornments to be found.
Her feet scuffed on the dirty brown stone.
They led her through a heavy door and down another flight of stairs, where she came upon a row of dungeon cells.
Most of them were filled, extending in a strange, curved formation that reminded her of a half-circle.
Aryana expected to be thrust into one, but instead was taken into a side room.
The guards released their death grip on her arm and left, slamming the door behind them.
She peered around at the bare dirt walls and the odd stain darkening the stone floor, wondering if they’d deposited her in some kind of torture chamber.
After a while, the entrance creaked open, and a female stepped inside, draped in a full-length ivory gown that clung to every curve.
She regarded Aryana with her eyes narrowed with disdain. “You appear as if you could use some help.” She threw a long silvery dress at Aryana, who caught it. “Put this on.”
Aryana studied the female. She had short horns that curved upward and a thin tail whipped out from an opening in the back of her dress. Her scent held a sweetness to it she had smelled before in her uncle’s kingdom. “Are you Vivane?”
“Does it matter? I don’t have time answering silly questions from demons who aren’t going to last five minutes in the arena.”
Aryana bristled. “I am a vampire. And I assure you, I will last more than five minutes.”
“We’ll see.”
Aryana held up the silvery dress. “If I’m going to die, why are you giving me this?”
“I only do what the demon king commands. Besides, if you are about to die, you might as well look good doing it.”
Her flippant tone grated, as if Aryana’s death would be nothing more than a passing amusement.
“I still don’t understand.”
“This is an exhibition, dear. You are a princess, so the crowds want to see a princess being put in her place. Not some straggler from off the streets. That’s your value to the arch king.”
Aryana’s fingers curled into the fabric. Her value to the arch king probably would have been as the female said if they’d already gone for the scepter. That was most likely the only thing keeping Aryana alive.
She drew off the black ensemble that Zarathos had given her. Aryana hardly thought her current dress made her look like some urchin from the streets. However, if she was supposed to wear the new gown, what complaint did she have?
Vivane eyed the bandage on Aryana’s thigh. “Even though the clothes will cover your Bloodbound mark, leave the wrap, just in case.”
Aryana froze. “How do you—”
“Dear, the power of your bond radiates off of you.” Her eyes roved over Aryana. “The question is, what kind of mess has Zarathos gotten himself into?”
Aryana bit the inside of her lip, briefly. “Can other demons sense the Bloodbinding?”
“Only succubi can sense such bonds. And I am the only one working in the palace. However, that doesn’t mean there won’t be others in the arena today. But it is only something that we sense within a few feet. So don’t get close to any other succubi.”
Her uncle occasionally took up with a succubus, one of the only types of other demons he allowed in his kingdom.
But Aryana had never known they had the ability to perceive Bloodbonds.
They hailed from Kingdom Misophae that housed the leftover demons and half-breeds that didn’t fit in any category.
Even when vampires were part of the demon empire, they had little to do with the lowest of the low kingdoms.
Aryana slipped into the silvery silk gown. It draped over her shoulders and framed a square neckline that dipped toward her breasts. Long trumpet sleeves flared more dramatically than those of her previous dress, and the a-line skirts trailed behind her in a sweeping, courtly train.
Delicate black lace traced the edges in an intricate web of leaves and vines, climbing up the center of the gown before pausing at her navel for an appliqué that curled across her stomach. The fabric clung tightly to her chest and hips, then loosened as it fell, brushing softly against her ankles.
Vivane moved behind her, tugging at the edges and lacing it up with practiced hands.
“Not that you have to worry,” she continued. “You are merely a play piece for the demon arch king to show off and then cast aside to make him appear more powerful. You will be gone soon, no doubt.”
Aryana swallowed, but lifted her chin. Zarathos wouldn’t underestimate her… Would he?
Vivane lifted a black brush from a pouch tied to her thigh. “I am required by the council to mark you.”
Aryana stumbled back. “Mark me with what?”
She reached out and took Aryana by the wrist in a surprisingly strong grasp. “Don’t worry. This part won’t hurt.”
Aryana jerked back but didn’t break her grasp.
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I will call the guard in to hold you down while I mark you. It is a requirement you signed in your kalator contract.”
Reluctantly, Aryana relented and let Vivane press the brush to her wrist. She carefully drew what appeared to be an inverted crown. A sign of fallen nobility. Anger seethed through her and she nearly tore her hand away. Vivane released her and Aryana ran a finger over the instantly dried ink.
“What the hell are you—”
“It’s not my idea. I was simply told what to draw,” the demon female said, too calmly, as she stored the brush back in the pouch on her leg.
She unlocked a pair of shackles and pulled them off the wall, before walking up to Aryana with them in hand.
“Part of the arch king’s orders.” Vivane clapped the irons on Aryana’s hands and ankles.
Then she banged on the door and it swung open.
“She’s ready,” she said to the guards. She gave a malicious smile to Aryana.
“Enjoy your last few moments of life, Princess.”
The guards hauled her out of the room. She quickly counted ten filled cages, while they dragged her over to the empty cell at the end of the line. The demons holding her shoved her inside and banged the cage shut.
Ten kalators for the ten champions. And Aryana was number eleven for the demon arch king.
She gripped her elbows with her hands, the limit of her chains’ reach. What the had she gotten herself into?
“Finally, the last one arrives,” a voice said next to her.
“We were wondering when you’d get here.” She looked through the bars and saw a demon staring at her with a light tint of green skin and a mohawk of feathers down his head and upper back.
They ended in sizable feathered wings that were folded.
She’d seen pictures of his kind in texts.
He was a sirin from clan Aeria, demons who had magic in their voices when they sang.
They could hypnotize or heal as they chose.
“So the great arch king has gotten himself a plaything.” A woman who looked to be in her early to mid thirties with a wrapped head stared at her through the bars from two cells over. Aryana smelled the human scent drifting off of her.
“A vampire no less,” came the voice of a demon three cells from hers. A wingless imp with large horns that curled upward and a curious gaze, no doubt from the Kingdom Inferna, the underworld. As a regular imp, he was twice the size of Ernon and Mils.
“Vampire?” The woman’s eyes grew round.
“I’m Pohan.” The sirin reached a hand through the bars, and Aryana stared at him in surprise. This demon knew human greetings?
He gave a crooked smile. “A way of saying hello. Learned it from Neri.” He tossed his head, indicating the woman two cells over.
She relaxed, reaching out her hand and took his in a handshake. She noted the scars crisscrossing up his arm. “Aryana. Are you all kalators?”
Pohan nodded. “Just been waiting for you to arrive so we could get started.”
“Among the few of us still in one piece,” the imp from three stalls over said. He had a large scar running across his face. “The arch king must have something special planned for you.”
Neri shot him a look. And the imp shrugged. “What? It’s only logical…”
“Oh, spare us your morbid musings disguised as facts, Jesir.”
Jesir appeared offended, but only folded his arms and scowled.
“Don’t get nasty, Neri. We are all nervous about what is coming,” Pohan said.
Neri glared at him, but also clammed up.
Even these demons had expectations about how she was going to be treated by the demon arch king. She had to make sure whatever happened to her at the opening ceremony appeared real and believable.
Gods, she felt bad for Neri. A human. She wasn’t like them—violent, angry, bloodthirsty. Some humans deserved death, but many didn’t. For Aryana’s kind, she couldn’t help but believe that the ratio was reversed.
A guard marched past their cells. “Listen, worthless spawn, move to the corner of your enclosure unless you wish your guts to be smashed into a pile of shit all over the floor.” A sneer spread across his face as if that would make his day.
Aryana moved into the far end of her cell. There was the sound of gears moving and the ceiling above her split open, a large slab slamming down onto the stone.
The guard’s sneer twisted, a sadistic light gleaming in his eyes. “Go on up. Enjoy the opening ceremony.” He released a cackling laugh.
“Good luck,” Aryana said to the others.
Pohan and Jesir nodded in dreaded silence. She already scented the fear drifting off of them.
Neri’s expression conveyed both despair and terror. “What’s good about it?”