16. Blood and Bargains
Blood and Bargains
Nearly a week had passed since that first brutal lesson on the beach, and my body bore the evidence of every single day.
Purple bruises bloomed across my ribs. Fresh cuts layered over half-healed ones, creating a map of pain across my arms and shoulders.
My muscles screamed in protest with every movement, yet somehow I kept getting stronger.
Each dawn brought the same ritual—Xül lounging against his rocks while I faced whatever horrors he summoned from the black sand. Soul after soul clawed their way from the earth, weapons drawn. And each day, I cut them down.
He hadn't summoned Thatcher again. Not once since that first lesson. Just the mindless, empty souls.
My skill had improved dramatically—faster than should have been possible. My body learned the deadly dance of combat. Parry, riposte, strike. Duck, roll, thrust. My star-sword moved like an extension of my will.
At least Xül was keeping his promise. I was being forged into something dangerous.
But I hated every minute of it. Hated him for his taunting commentary as I bled.
Hated the way he watched my struggles with detached amusement.
Hated that yesterday, when a soul's blade had found my throat and I'd dropped my weapon in exhaustion, the creature had simply.
.. stopped. Pulled back instead of finishing me.
It’s not that I wanted to die. But living by the grace of Xül’s mercy wasn’t exactly enticing either.
Now I sat at the far end of the massive dining table, picking at roasted meat, appetite completely gone. Xül occupied the opposite end of the room, long legs propped up on the polished wood, absorbed in whatever book held his attention tonight.
Neither of us bothered to speak.
A servant appeared from the corridor, approaching Xül with a sealed envelope. He accepted it without looking up from his book, but I caught the slight raise of his eyebrow as the servant scurried away.
The sound of tearing parchment cut through the quiet. Xül's golden eye moved across whatever message lay within, his expression unreadable. Then, with casual dismissal, he tossed the letter down the length of the table. It slid across the polished surface, coming to rest just within my reach.
"First trial," he said, not bothering to look at me. "Davina and Thorne."
I stared at the elegant script, trying to make sense of the formal language. "What do you mean?"
Xül's sigh carried the weight of profound irritation. "Must I explain everything to you as if you were a child?"
I bit back the sharp retort that wanted to spill from my lips. I needed information more than I needed the satisfaction of telling him exactly what I thought of his attitude.
"The Trials," he said, words clipped, "are overseen by pairs of The Twelve.” He turned a page with deliberate slowness. "Four pairs, eight gods total for each cycle. Olinthar selects them himself—a privilege he reserves as King of Gods."
"Only eight?" I asked. "Not all twelve? "
"Some sit out each cycle. It's... political." His mouth twisted in distaste. "Those who've fallen from favor are excluded. Those whose powers Olinthar wishes to showcase are included. The combinations shift each time, ensuring that what worked in previous Trials becomes useless knowledge."
"So how do we prepare for something we can't predict?"
"We don't." Another page turned. "We make educated guesses based on the personalities and domains involved, then hope we've anticipated correctly."
I leaned forward, studying the letter more carefully. The formal seal, the precise handwriting, the date that was only seven days away. "We only have a week."
"Your powers of observation are truly remarkable."
The sarcasm made my jaw clench. "What would Davina and Thorne create together?"
Xül closed the book he'd been reading, setting it aside. "Actually, we're lucky with this pairing." Satisfaction dripped from every word. "Nature and alchemy—it's something I can train and prepare you for."
I raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden shift in tone. "You sound almost optimistic."
"Don't mistake pragmatism for optimism, starling." He sighed. "I wouldn't be surprised if some of the other trial combinations are too ambiguous to properly teach you anything specific at all. They have a tendency to prefer that."
"So what do we focus on?" I asked.
"Davina values respect for the natural order above all else," he said, his tone suggesting I should already know this. "She despises those who seek to dominate rather than harmonize with nature. Her Trials typically involve survival skills, adaptation, proving you understand your place."
"And Thorne?"
"Artifice. Alchemy. The transformation of base materials into something greater.
" Xül's fingers drummed against the table.
"He appreciates clever use of tools. Innovation.
His challenges usually require contestants to modify or combine magical implements in ways they weren't originally designed for.
" Xül picked up his book again. “Thorne is easy enough to read. He’s Pompous.
Obsessed with showing off his intellectual superiority. "
“Sounds familiar.” I said under my breath, but I knew he heard me.
"So what do we?—"
Voices echoed from the corridor outside, cutting through my question. Xül's eyes flicked toward the doorway with mild annoyance.
Aelix strode into the dining hall, that bright smile already in place.
Behind him followed a young woman I recognized from the Choosing—tall and willowy, with sharp features and long black hair pulled into a severe braid.
Everything about her radiated controlled menace, from the way she held herself to the cold calculation in her slate-gray eyes as they swept the room.
When her gaze landed on me, I felt like prey being sized up.
She didn't speak. Didn't even step into the room. Instead, she leaned against the doorframe.
"I assume you received the correspondence?" Aelix asked, settling into one of the chairs without invitation.
"Unfortunately," Xül replied with elegant disdain.
"Excellent. I thought we might take Thais and Marx tracking tonight."
"How tedious," Xül murmured. "I'm sure you can manage without me."
Aelix's gaze shifted to me, and reluctant pity crawled across his features. "The Grief Hounds are particularly active tonight. Perfect conditions for learning to read signs and move quietly."
"I said no."
The dismissal hit me like a slap. Here was an opportunity to actually learn something useful, and he was refusing it out of what—laziness? Spite? I stood before I could think better of it .
"I'll go," I said, my voice ringing with determination. "Even if he won't."
Xül’s eyes met mine. A subtle smile curved his lips. "Do enjoy yourselves," he said, rising from the table. "Try not to get eaten."
And with that charming encouragement, he walked down the hall, leaving me alone with the two of them.
The path beneath our feet had turned from manicured stone to packed earth, winding between trees that towered far above our heads. Silver bark caught the moonlight, throwing strange shadows that shifted as we passed.
Behind me, Marx's footsteps made no sound.
I turned to check if she was still there and found her watching me with those dark eyes.
When I stumbled slightly over a root, she didn't react.
When Aelix pointed to a broken branch and explained how the break indicated direction of travel, she gave one sharp nod.
That was it. No commentary, no questions.
"Watch the moss pattern here." Aelix knelt beside a fallen log, running his fingers along the bark. "See how it's been scraped away? Something large brushed against this recently."
I dropped down beside him, squinting at what looked like perfectly ordinary wood to me. "I don't—where?"
"Here." He guided my hand to a section of bark. Under my palm, I could feel the difference. A bare patch. "The Grief Hounds den in the deeper groves. They're not necessarily hostile, but they don't appreciate trespassers. And they're large enough to tear a mortal apart without breaking stride."
A chill ran down my spine. "How large?"
Instead of answering, Marx made a sound—barely a whisper of breath, but I figured it was amusement. Or maybe mockery.
"Tracking takes practice," Aelix said, either not hearing her or choosing to ignore her. "You're looking for patterns that break the natural flow."
The next two hours blurred together in a flash of broken twigs and displaced stones that all looked identical to my untrained eyes. Aelix's patience seemed infinite as he pointed out sign after sign that I couldn't see.
We went deeper in the forest, following what Aelix claimed was a game trail. I was on my hands and knees again, staring at marks in the soft earth that could have been made by anything, when the forest went silent.
No bird calls. No whistle of wind. Even the whispering rustle of leaves in the canopy had stopped.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up.
A growl rolled through the trees—low, resonant. Another answered it. Then another.
My blood thickened as glowing eyes appeared in the darkness around us. Not just one pair. Not even a handful. At least a dozen burning gazes materialized from every shadow, surrounding me.
"Don't. Move." Aelix's voice cut through my rising panic. "Don't even breathe."
The largest of the creatures stepped into a patch of moonlight, and my breath caught in my throat. It was enormous—easily the size of a small horse, with midnight fur and eyes like molten gold. When it pulled back its lips, it revealed teeth that could crush.
My heart hammered so hard I was sure it would taunt them further.
The largest one’s burning eyes locked onto mine. It took a step closer. Close enough for me to see the muscles bunching beneath its dark coat.
The creature's ears flattened against its skull.
Suddenly they were all moving.