CHAPTER 19
“A true warrior's death is forged by the fire of a dragon. If a Deskyiara dies, their soul must be brought to the top of the mountain tip in the Darklands and allow the God of Fire to scorch their flesh, leaving only their bones.” - Book of Azure
TOMORROW MORNING IS THE SEVENTH day.
A full week here in the dormitory with ninety-nine men, and I have yet to die. I wonder, did the Queen expect me to last this long and will my entrance tomorrow surprise her?
I shrug looking up to the sunset that fades away, crisscrossed against the rust gravel that digs into my thighs in the middle of the pit.
I can’t help but feel a sudden rush of pride over my body, knowing I have survived when all the odds have been against me.
When ninety-six of the men I have lived with this past week want me dead. I’m thankful to have three who don’t.
My lips tighten between my teeth, anticipation running wild in my chest as I pray to the Gods here for me to survive another day. But also, the hope that the Queen seeing me the day after tomorrow… shocks the shit out of her.
I know she expected the men to do her dirty job. To kill me. Yet, I have survived.
As I look down while the light begins to fade, my fingers glide over my engraved initials against my bow. “S.Q.”
Serene Quinnell.
A gentle smile tugs on my lips as my finger delicately skims across the shimmering, golden string.
It contrasts beautifully with the unstained white wood of the bow that Kaine crafted for me just a few days ago.
He said it's a symbol of honor and only those with the spirit of braveness are chosen to have the white bow.
But with this present, he has also almost trained me to death.
I have practiced the past few days, countless hours under the sun and moon, with Kaine on the bow and arrow.
I might be getting there. I have hit the bullseye a few times now, and Kaine seems to think it was the bow that made me catch on so quickly.
In my spare time, I have been lifting large rocks with Theon out at the pit so I can wield the sword.
It’s still heavy and my arms scream in agony every time I lift it, but I’m getting there.
With Koen, however, the past few days have been oddly tense. Theon and Kaine have noticed it too.
We haven’t exchanged many words. When he instructs me on how to be swift with the techniques to snatch the daggers from my sheath for stabbing or throwing, his gaze barely flickers in my direction.
It's as though my presence is a burden to him. As if it’s torture being around me.
I’ve tried talking to him about it, but he just reminds me to stay alive and we’ll have the answers soon.
But even though he is shutting me out, every morning I wake to him on the ground beside my bunk, dagger in hand with his hair wildly out of his bun. Every morning, he says it’s the last time, but it never is. And I can’t complain.
Florian has yet to get me out, and I fear the Queen won’t allow him to do so. Neither will Skie.
But as the night sky fills with thousands of tiny stars, glittering across the sky, I know… tomorrow makes seven days of pure torture. And at last, the night of the celebration, while everyone is drunk, Koen and I will sneak off. It’s time to find Tilly.
THE BED CREAKS, THE MATTRESS sinking in with the added weight of someone climbing into my bunk.
No one has tried to kill me since three days ago when Koen sliced his hand off for touching me.
My eyes snap open, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I instinctively reach for the dagger hidden beneath my pillow.
I let out a shaky breath. With a deliberate motion, I wrap my fingers around the hilt, feeling the cold metal.
I slowly turn, the blade glinting softly from the torches as I press its sharp edge against the side of. .. Theon.
“Okay, not bad,” he glints, his icy braids are thrown up into a bun this morning and his ocean eyes sparkle against the dim light. “So Koen isn’t useless after all.”
My eyes narrow as my brows drop, my face emotionless. I remove the dagger from his side, knowing I didn’t pierce his skin, and shove his body off of me. “I could have hurt you.”
“Could you have, though?” He smirks, side-eyeing me as he tilts his head.
“You are so annoying sometimes.” I push him again, sitting upright as I stretch my neck. “Is Death gone again this morning?”
“I’m surprised he hasn’t tried killing you.” Theon nods. “Lover boy is here, though. How does Florian feel knowing him and his brother are in love with the same woman?”
I stab the dagger into the mattress, grabbing the attention of Theon. His eyes widen. “Did I hit a nerve?” He leans over to me, grinning ear to ear with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Over the past few days, I have realized, Theon is nothing like his mother. And that is a good thing.
I lean forward. “The brothers are just helping me, as I am helping them. That is all.”
He chokes on a laugh, making a fist up to his lips. “Whatever you say, Ren.”
Ren. Theon says it's more fierce than saying Serene and will be easier to shout the nickname when we are out fighting the dragons. So, from here on out, this is what he calls me. As well as Kaine.
I don’t hate it. It's better than what Koen calls me.
“Grab us some breakfast, I’ll wake Koen.”
Theon nods as he lifts himself from the bed with a graceful ease, moving carefully around Koen’s peacefully sleeping body. His eyes widen at me, playfully tiptoeing around Koen with a finger over his lips. I roll my eyes before crossing my legs.
I lean over the bed, my midnight hair in a wild tangle from a night of restful sleep, and watch him.
His gentle curl of his dark-brown hair lies perfectly across his eye, cascading down to his lush lips.
His eyes are soft, lacking the hatred and worry he has within them during the day.
It's always beautiful to see him like this.
The torches beam brightly against him. His veins are more pronounced in the mornings, tracing patterns across his neck, leading to the claw mark along the back of his neck.
My hand wraps around the handle of the dagger, ripping it out of my mattress as a few white feathers fly in the air.
If I ever have a dagger to your throat again, kill me.
My mind races with the words he said. I let out a shaky breath as I let my toes hit the chilly floor, my black boots to the side of the bed are covered in rust dirt and chunks of mud from the pit from last night's practice.
I squat, closing in the space between me and him.
My trembling hand reaches out, closing my eyes as I control the speed of my heart.
‘Koen,” I whisper, letting my hand touch his shoulder, and gently tug him. “It’s Serene, time to wake.”
He grunts, lifting his hands above his head as he groggily opens his eyes. His emerald eyes are there. No fire. No anger. Just him.
“Good morning, little Spark.” He grins, flexing his arms. “How’d you sleep?”
“Fine. I thought you said you weren’t sleeping down here anymore?” I tease, lifting my brows before placing the dagger in my sheath.
He exhales deeply before arching his back into a deep stretch. A yawn escapes his lips and his tousled hair falls, framing his defined jaw. “That was the last time. Tonight, we get to head to the archives.”
I stand up, brushing off the clingy dirt that has collected along my pants and top.
I wish I had new clothes to wear, yet they haven’t brought me or the others any.
The rip in my suit sleeve, once a small tear from the guard who stabbed me, has widened over the past few days, exposing more of my skin.
The wounds etched into my flesh are finally showing signs of healing, as well as the one in my lower back from Dryden.
But they still hurt, especially when I move.
My bruised feet slip into the well-worn leather of my boots, and I pull the laces tight, securing them with a firm double knot.
I can’t trip in front of the men like the other day when my laces came loose.
The men who are competing in the games made fun of me for at least a full day.
Theon and Kaine even teased me. Just thinking about it makes my blood boil.
I wanted to cut their tongues off. Too bad I couldn’t.
My fingers ache with each movement and I bite my bottom lip, forcing the pain to stay hidden from Koen. I need rest.
However, today is the day. The final moment we have to train in the pit.
The thought swirls in my mind, knowing that tomorrow we face the dreadful task of battling a dragon.
Or perhaps, dragons. We are still uncertain how many of them we must confront and a shiver of fear ripples down my spine at the thought of facing even one.
The dragons in the Desert of Death were large, deadly, and swift. Facing one of those alone, I would be dead in seconds.
Knowing these dragons will not be caged or have chains wrapped around their mouths or legs makes my skin flush with heat.
Nausea trickles up my throat with the thought of one burning me alive.
Scorching me to the ground. However, Koen's words echo in my mind.
He had warned me what lies beyond the first battle game will be even more daunting than battling any dragon.
Facing the Gods’ gifts head on.
He said they are more deadly than a dragon will ever be. Unsure how that is even possible. I find fighting a damn dragon to be about the most frightening thing I have ever encountered.
Koen seems unphased. As well as Theon and Kaine. All of them. None of the men have fear, but I am swallowed in it.
My heart might give out just standing in the arena once I see one striding towards me.
“Hey,” Koen grunts, rising from the ground and pulling his waves into a bun. “What’s wrong with you?”
I rub my eyes, ignoring the fact that I might die tomorrow, and shrug. “Everything is fine. I’m going to grab some breakfast and head out to the pit.”