Chapter 6
He’s enormous. Even bigger up close. Even unarmed, his presence nearly makes my knees buckle.
With sword in hand … no wonder rebel armies surrender as soon as they see him coming.
No wonder some have chosen to fall onto their own swords rather than face him.
No wonder people whisper about him like he’s a demon.
His head tilts, and I catch a sliver of that silver mask. “Interesting,” he says, his voice rumbling along my bones. “You aren’t pissing yourself yet.”
It takes everything in me not to run. He would catch me in a second. But a worse fate would be a death at his hands before I even started this quest. So I summon every shred of courage I have, reinforce it with my hatred, and lift my chin. “Is that how people normally greet you?”
He seems shocked that I’m speaking to him, or that my voice isn’t shaking. I’m fucking shocked my voice isn’t shaking. I don’t wait for a response.
“Sorry to disappoint,” I say.
At that, I hear him growl beneath his mask. When it’s clear just his presence won’t make me stand down, he takes a step toward me. “Everything about you is a disappointment,” he says, with so much venom, I bristle.
“You don’t even know me,” I say.
“I know a street rat when I see one. I know a thief.”
Rage flames through me, blazing past my better judgment. I lean forward. “And I know a king’s lapdog when I see one.”
The moment the words leave my lips, I know I’ve made a big fucking mistake. He doesn’t need a sword to kill me. He could crush my throat in one of his hands. He could snap my neck with half a thought. I swallow, waiting for him to end this conversation by ending me.
But instead, he ducks low, in an attempt to meet me anywhere close to my height, and says, “You’re lucky the king doesn’t permit killing in his castle … but the next time I see you, I won’t hesitate.”
Shit. I don’t know whether to feel relief that I actually get to survive this encounter, or dread that I’ve made the worst enemy imaginable.
Still, I manage to keep my head high. “Neither will I.”
He huffs in cruel mirth as he walks past me. When he’s out of the corridor, I finally slump against the wall, heart pounding against the stone.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I never should have left my room. I race back, then shut the door, slide down it, and keep it closed with my spine.
Kira is still sleeping. Her breaths are long and heavy.
Sure that she can’t see me, I begin to trace the markings at my neck, the way I do when I’m anxious.
That voice. His voice. Hearing it again … suddenly, I’m thrust back two years ago to a rare day of rain.
Gray eyes, buried in a battle helmet, staring me down. His glimmering blade against my throat, and—
No. I won’t think of him, and what happened afterward.
I close my eyes tightly, pushing him from my thoughts, focusing only on following the path of silver up and down my throat. It lulls me into a calmness that leads to a few hours of sleep.
Until a flash of silver has me sitting up, gasping.
The room is still dark. Kira is still snoring. Another memory, from far before I ever encountered Harlan Raker. The day on the hill. The day my sister and I disobeyed my parents and went far past the village.
The day I got my markings.
I jolt when a knock rattles the door behind me, my veins aflame with panic. But it’s only the Watchman. “Outside in ten,” he yells, before moving on.
How is it already time? My eyes still burn with exhaustion.
My legs are sore from being folded beneath me. I wince as I struggle to get up, then slowly make my way to Kira.
I poke her shoulder. She just snores louder.
I tap at her arm, and she just turns to the side.
My sister was like this. A heavy sleeper. It would take ten minutes sometimes just to wake her up.
We don’t have that time.
“Kira,” I say loudly, and she startles awake. Her eyes widen with fear before seeing me. That fear dims.
It shouldn’t.
Today, we’re enemies. I won’t save her the way I did before. Not if she stands between me and being one of the first fifty through those gates.
“Is it time?” she asks, voice heavy with sleep.
“It is.”
She nods and gets up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She looks at me, using seconds we don’t have to spare, her green eyes filled with regret. “I really hope I don’t have to kill you,” she finally says.
And by the sudden hardness of her tone … I know.
I know she would kill anyone and anything to save her sister … the same way I would have. The same way I will in vengeance for her death.
“Me too,” I reply, meaning it as well.
Then we pack up our things and leave the room.
The king’s guards return our weapons one by one.
When they reach Raker, they each bow their heads, then motion toward the front of the castle. I hear whispers, and—
No one was able to move it. I can almost imagine his great sword still dug into the dirt, untouched.
Raker opens his hand, and there’s a sky-splitting crackling as the sword arcs over the castle in a flash of silver—before landing in his grip.
It leaves the rest of the challengers speechless.
Until, of course, Kira leans down to whisper, “I heard he’s terribly scarred under that mask. That’s why he doesn’t show his face.”
I’ve heard the exact opposite.
I’ve also heard that he’s a creature. A venomous beast. Rumors abound when it comes to Harlan Raker.
She quirks her lips. “Is it bad that I don’t really care?”
Zane huffs on my other side. “The only thing that’s ever gotten close to Harlan Raker is his sword. I wouldn’t put it past him to kill a woman for even suggesting she wanted to be with him.”
I don’t know why anyone would suggest that.
“He’s a monster,” I say, voice cold with long-held rage. At that, Raker’s grip tightens on his sword, as if he’s heard me.
I would think it a good thing if I didn’t need to survive this journey.
The next time I see you, I won’t hesitate …
A guard stops in front of me and hands me my titanium blade. Kira is given her new silver one. Zane is reunited with his ax. He frowns as he looks at it from all angles, as if surveying it for damage.
I stare out at the gardens in front of us, at all the land separating me from the gates.
Green. So much green, in a brighter shade than I’ve ever seen it. Trickling water sputters from a fountain surrounded by statues depicting all the gods. The water is just … for decoration. The king is using it for beauty when I’ve watched countless neighbors die from dehydration.
I swallow my anger. All that matters now is making it to Starside. I need to focus on strategy.
Besides the few shrubs and sculptures, there’s hardly anything to use as cover.
It’s just flat grass until a sharp slope that hides everything beyond it.
If the archers start trying to take us down like they did in the forest, I’ll have little defense against their arrows.
I just have to run as fast as I can, and hope by the time they set their marks, I’m down that hill.
I slip my sword into my back scabbard.
This is a race. The first fifty to the gates get to go on the Questral. Holding my blade will just slow me down.
Once everyone has their weapons back, the Watchman appears.
He motions above us, and I look up to see the king on one of the highest balconies. From his viewpoint, he can likely see all the way to the gates. He’s going to watch us kill each other. He’s going to see which of us make it.
“With your blessing, King,” the Watchman says, bowing.
“Given,” the king replies, waving his hand.
The Watchman looks down the entire line of us. Nods. Then—
“May the best fifty win.”