Chapter 27
I sit before a morbid spectacle.
The sprawling splendor of Augustus’s country home should inspire awe.
Its elegance rivals the pristine perfection of his city palace.
Tall windows catch the light of the setting sun, imposing pillars gleam, and manicured grounds burst with trees, hedges, and flowers that roll across the length of the estate.
By any measure, I should be impressed.
Instead, sickness coils tight in my stomach, clenching until it aches, as I’m forced to watch the contest unfolding below. The beauty around me only sharpens the horror.
The polished stone and blooming flowers bear silent witness to something profoundly wrong.
Raised seating hovers over the edge of the expansive hedge maze stretching across the grounds before me. I sit in the first row, wedged between Anders and Leto, surrounded by members of Augustus’s inner circle whose names I’ve already failed to retain.
Behind us, elevated just enough to remind us who holds the power, sit the mayor and his family, along with Rian and Silas.
Rian didn’t even look at me when Leto escorted me to my seat.
Silas had tipped his head when we made eye contact, but I won’t lie and say I didn’t wish for more acknowledgement from the Shadow Fae.
I don’t know where Draven or Darius are. I don’t even know if they were invited.
But I really wish they were here.
Below, another contestant approaches the mouth of the maze.
I think she’s an earth wielder, though I can’t be certain. She didn’t compete in the first round, and during the second, my attention was too muddled by alcohol to catalog faces and abilities the way I should have.
Unlike those of us watching, she wears tight leather trousers and a fitted tunic.
Good.
Loose fabric is a liability, one I’ve already seen punished tonight.
The sun hangs low on the horizon, moments from surrendering the world to night. I lift a silent prayer to the Gods that the light holds until the contest ends.
For the remaining participants’ sake.
Augustus’s voice booms through the still air. “Begin!”
The woman races into the maze.
My fingers curl into the edge of the bench on either side of my thighs.
A vine bristling with twisting thorns lashes from the hedge to her right. The contestant drops just in time, the strike snapping through the space where her head had been. Scrambling forward on hands and knees, she clears the section and surges back to her feet.
My chest tightens as she hops, skips, and leaps over ground that crumbles beneath her sprint. She dives, rolls, and when she comes up grinning, triumph flashing across her face, I almost believe she’s made it.
Then a curtain of fire crashes down from the stone archway above her.
Her smile shatters into an agonized scream.
I slam my eyes shut, breathing through my nose, telling myself I’m too far away to smell burning flesh.
This has been the pattern all evening.
Contestants are met with elaborate, merciless traps—attacks hidden within the deceptively beautiful hedge maze.
Only one man has reached the exit on his own, and he paid for it in blood.
The first two contests were nothing like this.
The events meant to celebrate Jason and Daphne’s impending union tested each magic user’s precision and skill without blatant violence. This trial is another beast.
It’s barbaric.
Cruel.
And each time the mayor and his family cheer behind me, my opinion of them and of Virendrell’s betrothal customs erodes with every clap.
“What a shame,” Leto mutters.
I open my eyes.
He shifts, smoothing the fabric covering his toned thighs, staring at the young woman below. “To be felled by your own element… I cannot think of a worse humiliation.”
The woman was a fire wielder, then.
And the creases tugging the corners of Leto’s eyes hint that he cares about her fate.
On my other side, Anders sighs. “Excuse me, Elara. This injury will need my tending.”
He stands and adjusts the waist of his trousers.
Like every male seated in the stands, he is shirtless, though his heavy-looking medallion hangs over his pale sternum. The gold chain gleams, as does every piece of jewelry worn by those around me. The opulent wealth sets me on edge.
Anders bows to the row behind us before hurrying down the steps to assist the contestant.
Behind me, casual banter and easy laughter continue.
I clench my jaw and keep my eyes on the maze, resisting the urge to shoot a disgusted glare over my shoulder.
Two servants in flowing togas kneel at the contestant’s side and lift her onto a stretcher. Its white fabric is already marred with the dried blood.
Pained screams ring in my ears when they touch her. My fingernails crack against the wood.
“Well, that was unfortunate.” A young woman appears next to me, lowering herself onto Anders’s abandoned seat.
She wears a red gown cut daringly low, but it’s not the fabric that draws the eye—it’s the way she wears it, unbothered by who’s watching. Strong. Self-assured. Stunning.
“But not surprising,” the woman continues. “You fire wielders are too cocky. You never bother to learn how to protect yourselves against your own element.”
She’s the winner of the second contest. An earth wielder.
Hollie, I think.
“Because our fire doesn’t harm us.” Leto leans forward to glare at the woman at my side. “Don’t pretend you aren’t jealous, Hali. We all know you yearn for more power.”
The woman, Hali, snorts.
“Me? Jealous of you pyro freaks? Please. I prefer the blessing of a brain, as well as brawn. If Briza had bothered to develop a healthy fear of flames she doesn’t wield, she wouldn’t be on the way to the infirmary right now.”
I flinch and brace myself for Leto’s retort, fully expecting his charming act to fall away.
Instead, a laugh bursts from his throat.
Leto slaps his knee and shakes his head. “Ah, Hali. Ever the dark beauty.”
Hali scowls at the morose compliment before turning to me. “I’m Hali.”
I dip my chin. “I’m Elara.”
“You’re from the continent.”
I hold her gaze. A hint of recognition tickles the back of my mind. She looks familiar.
“I am,” I reply.
“And you possess magic.”
The power in my chest bristles at the proprietorial term. With an imagined caress, I reassure the magic that I do not view it that way.
I answer, “I do.”
She blows out a breath between pursed lips. “That must’ve sucked.”
I choke out a strained laugh. “You have no idea.”
She watches me, head tilted. Again, I’m hit with a sense of familiarity I cannot place.
“Did you know anyone else with magic in Astloria?” Hali asks.
“Mother above,” Leto scoffs. “Does it not occur to you that Elara may not wish to speak of her time on that cursed continent?”
“If that’s the case, she can tell me so herself,” she snaps back without taking her eyes off me.
She raises a perfectly arched brow. “So… Did you know any other magic wielders?”
Hali is straightforward. Blunt.
I think I like her.
“Only one.” I look back to the maze.
Anders has reached the injured contestant. His hand rests on her ankle as the servants carry her away on the stretcher. Even from this distance, the bright-red burns marring her flesh begin to dull to a warmer crimson as his healing magic takes effect.
“What power does he wield?” Leto asks.
I pull my gaze from Anders.
“What makes you assume it’s a he?” Hali challenges.
“Apologies.” Leto places a hand over his chest, but his eyes cool as they slide to Hali, the corners of his mouth flattening. “What power does he or she wield?”
Hali sneers back at him.
I press my lips together.
There’s history between Hali and Leto. That much is obvious.
“She is a fire wielder,” I reveal. “And she’s also my twin.”
Both of their eyes snap to mine.
Leto’s shoulders tense. “Fire?”
“Your twin?” Hali asks at the same time.
“Yes, and yes.”
“Two wielders of different elements in the same bloodline? And twins?” Leto releases an incredulous laugh. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Me either,” Hali says.
Shit.
A heavy stare burns into the back of my head.
I don’t have to turn around to know Rian is glaring at me. No doubt he heard my slipup.
But he can go straight to one of the six hells with his disapproval.
Rian hasn’t said a single word to me this evening, happily occupied by Iris and her endless chatter and flirtation. He doesn’t get to silently chastise me.
I force my smile to stay on my face and shrug. “Yeah…it’s strange, I guess.”
“Your ancestors must have been formidable,” Leto says with a knowing nod.
Saliva threatens to choke me.
I swallow it down. “I wouldn’t know. My parents died before they could tell me about them.”
He winces. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” Hali says. “I know what it’s like to be without family.”
My heart squeezes. “Then I am sorry for you, as well.”
She dips her head.
Leto leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “So, about this fire-wielding sister… Is she single?”
“Bless The Mother.” Hali lifts her gaze to the awning that covers the top of the seating. “You are absolutely nauseating.”
“Aw, stop with the sweet talk, Hali. I’ve already told you, Helen chose Elara as my companion for the final contest.”
My head whips to him.
His what?
“I wouldn’t wish to partner with you if you were the last male left on the island,” Hali snaps.
“Come now, darling. We both know that’s not—”
A delicate throat clears behind me.
I turn.
Helen has risen from her seat and now stands close to my back. Too close.
A glance at the top row reveals half of its occupants are gone. Augustus and Jason are at the refreshment table with Daphne and Silas.
Where are Rian and Iris?
Heat scorches through my chest.
Who cares?
My gaze flicks back to Helen’s.
Her stare captures mine, and her mouth curves into a practiced smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
Hali and Leto are quick to stand, rotate, and dip into a shallow curtsy and modest bow, respectively.
“Of course not, Lady Helen,” Leto replies with charm and deference. “It is always an honor to speak with you.”
I rise and mimic the depth of Hali’s curtsy.