Chapter 51
Fifty-One
Ella
Dirk was Cerberus. Dirk was also one of the Honored Hunters.
Try as I might, I was having a hard time believing it all. Yet why would Caz lie about something so monumental? It had to be true. Which explained much of Dirk’s inner turmoil, that pain I had glimpsed in him on multiple occasions.
My dragon moaned sorrowfully as Milly and I waited behind the curtains. She wanted to push through and run down the steps to wherever Dirk waited. We could feel him. So close, yet somehow still so far.
If we could get to him, reach him, we could help him. He needed us.
And I might just need him.
I missed his presence terribly. Everything without Dirk was lonely and dull much of the time. He filled up my world. Made it bright and comforting, despite all the problems we’d been fighting to overcome.
When I walked out through the curtains to stand on the balcony between Milly, Kolar and Durion, my eyes immediately found my mate. He stood at the side of the Field of Ice, ten feet or so away from Andrik, his opposite. Spine straight, hair tied back in a single braid down his neck.
I watched him, searching his face. For what? Some sign that he was Cerberus? I’d never met the Clippy legend, so I had no idea what he looked like. What I did see was my mate. Tired. Sad. Lonely.
He stood still, staring at something, anything, other than me. Not ignoring me, as I was ignoring everyone else who had assembled to watch the challenge. And a great many were present. But rather, he was focused. I could sense it in my mind as well as see it on his body.
This is where he intends to do it. To kill Mirko.
I wondered if that would free him of the guilt, if it would finally allow him to rest. For his sake, I hoped so.
Casimir and Mirko reached the side of the field at the same time, and the trumpets died off.
The stands, which ran in a curve along one half of the large oval field, were filling rapidly as shifters streamed in from several entrances.
Along the top row, other shifters, prominent Elites I presumed, watched from more private seats, blocked off from the masses.
The rest of the grounds were enclosed by solid stone walls, part of the citadel itself. All in all, it was a rather dull place, without any color or pomp. Somber might be the best word I could choose to describe it, especially given the potential for deadly combat that was about to occur.
“The rules of Challenge are simple.”
That was Florian, Warlord of the Kingdom. He stood between both parties at the edge of the field, which was perhaps six inches thick of pure ice.
“You may use any form. Dragon. Human. The choice is yours. The only other tool you may use is the very ice upon which you stand. You may not conjure any ice, may not use your dragon’s breath weapon. Only the Field of Ice itself may be your weapon, or armor, if you so choose.”
The crowd still murmured in the background as the spectators discussed what they thought were the best strategies for a win.
“Defeat is by yield or by death. First blood means nothing. Due to the circumstances under which this Challenge was issued and accepted …” Florian paused, and the crowd was silent. “The winner shall become the new Ice Tyrant.”
Chatter erupted everywhere at the confirmation that this was, indeed, a fight for the throne itself. Everyone seemed certain that Caz would fight to a yield, but Mirko would aim for death. He wanted no further threats to his rule.
I didn’t care. I only had eyes for Dirk, who spoke words to his brother. Caz nodded slowly, glancing over at Mirko more than once. Mirko, meanwhile, had already stalked to his end of the oval and was waiting impatiently.
What are you two planning? I could feel Dirk’s emotions. They were complicated but also eager. Ready. He didn’t expect Caz to lose, but there was more to it than that.
“They’re up to something,” Anna hissed from beside me. “I can feel it.”
“Me too,” I said. “Dirk’s antsy. Not tense or nervous. Like he can’t wait.”
“Caz is similar but also sad.”
“Sad?”
“I think he expects to have to kill Mirko, but I don’t know,” Anna said, leaning over to her left to whisper.
On her other side, Durion’s eyes flickered to us and then back to the field as his jaw tightened. Perhaps we shouldn’t be talking out loud. I didn’t want to alarm them.
“He’ll be okay,” I said to my friend, grabbing Anna’s hand as she shifted nervously on her feet. “This is Caz we’re talking about.”
“I know,” Anna said, trying to sound confident.
A trumpet sounded. The challenge began.
My eyes never left Dirk.