Chapter 55
55
I didn’t speak as the guards tossed a pair of fighting leathers into the cell, not turning to give me privacy as I changed out of the dress and into them instead.
I didn’t speak as three of them dragged me out of the palace gates, ornate ships of all of Luminaria’s allied courts floating beyond the cliffs in the sea below.
I didn’t speak as I was escorted down the dirt path that led to the Stone Coliseum, the crowd loud and restless from where they waited inside.
I didn’t speak as I was led through one of the tunnels, and found myself standing in front of a gate that led into that dusty pit at the base of the coliseum. The stands were once again full with courtiers and nobles, the chosen few who were allowed to watch the final trial.
The trial that determined whether Callum or I emerged alive.
I could see as the guards brought him to his own stone grate, across the coliseum from mine.
At the center of the coliseum sat a pile of weapons.
Weapons we would have to kill each other with.
He was too far away for me to make out his expression, but I saw he stood resolute. Stone still like a true commander about to face down his death.
I kept a firm grip on my heart as the door behind me closed, and my iron bands fell to the floor.
The King rose and made a speech, but I didn’t hear it. His words were no longer of concern to me. Then, trumpets from the side of the arena started to play a war march. The final music one of us would hear before crossing over into the next realm.
Slowly, the gates began to rise. The crowd’s roar grew louder, and I stepped out onto the dusty floor of the coliseum, the blood from the first trial long replaced with fresh sand.
Callum and I walked slowly to the center of the coliseum. Neither of us made a move to the new pile of weapons. There was a stone atop the pile, but the Bluesteel Blade was notably absent.
Callum stopped a few paces from me. I could see his expression now. It was one of torment, of anguish. Of a man who was thoroughly broken.
I opened my mouth to speak, but he shook his head.
And dropped to his knees in front of me.
“Do it, Saffron,” he gritted out, not meeting my gaze. “Kill me and live .”
The coliseum roared, the audience wanting blood. I looked up at them. Saw what they wanted. I turned to the pile of weapons. The screaming grew more shrill as I withdrew a crooked dagger from the pile. I stepped back in front of Callum, his eyes shining as he raised his head to me.
“I love you. I always have,” he said.
I shook my head, slowly. “I didn’t,” I said, the words slicing him like no dagger ever could. “And you took me from the one who had truly earned my heart.”
Callum’s eyes flashed. “He manipulated you, Saffron. This whole time?—”
I shook my head. “No. That was you, Callum.”
“Saffron—”
I raised my dagger, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Waiting for his death. For his punishment. For a fate he sealed when his jealousy had caused him to lash out at Tristen and choose to enter the trials.
With my raised hand, I tossed the dagger in the sand beside him.
Callum’s eyes snapped open. “No.”
“There are fates worse than death,” I spat out. “And I intend to make my last stand. Right here, right now. Are you with me?” I held out a hand. I could see him searching my eyes for an answer, and he took it. I pulled him to his feet.
The cheering and screaming of the coliseum turned to jeers and boos. Callum and I dove for the pile of weapons, grabbing blades. We stood back-to-back with swords aloft. We would fight, and we would die. But I was no longer afraid.
I was no longer that fearful girl cowering in an Ashguard cell.
I was a warrior. And I would die for my right to freedom, on my terms.
We faced the crowd, waiting for the guards to stream in and fight us.
But then there was a rumbling. On the far end of the coliseum, the last gate began to open.
Gasps and cries of surprise echoed in the arena.
He strode in, strolling into this final trial as if he was death’s messenger. His shadows trailed him with a crackling energy, spinning and undulating like chaos given form.
His clothes were torn, muddy, and covered in blood. But he was alive, and walking straight toward us.
Tristen, the Shadowfire Assassin—the man I was to marry—was alive.