22. Chapter 22
22
Zara
A s I stepped outside into the frost-coated dawn, an anchor of dread dropped in my stomach. The dress that had insisted on being worn tonight was a luxurious purple ballgown with a daring neckline and heaps of ruched fabric creating a sea of ruffles around my feet. Not exactly the type of gown one would wear for a survival trial that involved running, but the dress did have long sleeves, a fact that I relished as the bitter air stung my cheeks and neck.
The dress also had small pockets hidden among the folds of fabric, almost like the dress knew I needed a small place to store the stone, and inside one of those pockets rested the small ruby Casimiro had given me. The entertainers had been summoned to assemble in the arena below, and I knew I must descend the steep stairs. But I couldn’t quite bring my feet to cooperate, to march me toward a deadly trap.
I reached into my pocket and rolled the small stone between my fingers, letting the facets prick at my skin. What lay below was designed to kill me, but the heir had assured me I would survive.
Trusting him felt wrong. I took a step forward. Trusting him could turn out to be a massive joke he and his shadowy friends would laugh about as my body rotted on the sand. Another step. The memory of Casimiro’s arms around me as he’d pulled me from the waters of my homeland both chilled and warmed me, and I took three more steps down toward the arena. He had saved me. Perhaps he would again. The way his veins had turned black and his face had pinched with pain pricked my curiosity. He was an immortal, yet he suffered from something he couldn’t heal, even with all the potions and spells at his disposal. And he too faced an enemy who wanted him dead.
This felt oddly like it placed him on the same level as the entertainers now assembling in the arena. I burned to know what sort of ailment flowed in his veins, and why he couldn’t heal it. His sister seemed overly chatty for a fae princess. Perhaps I could finally accept her invitations to duel and have the chance to talk to her, get her to reveal what plagued Casimiro. But it wasn’t Alba I wanted to talk to. A flip of dread mixed with excitement rattled my already frenzied heart as I pictured speaking to Casimiro again. He had the information I wanted about Talia, and I would find out whatever he wished from the mortals in order to hear what had become of my dear friend.
I’d reached the bottom of the long stairway. The arena sands, painted gray with dawn’s meager light, waited before me.
My legs felt like lead from the running they’d forced me to do yesterday. We’d been chased by rats that would climb up our legs if we stood still. That was enough to get me sprinting through the sand.
My stomach growled at me, but I ignored it, casting my gaze around the dimly lit arena. The stands were beginning to fill with fae in all states of dress and varying degrees of mental stability. Their night of revelry must have been one for the record books, and I shivered with disgust. Two fae with twisting horns and sparkling dinner suits stumbled down two full levels of stone benches, laughing as they tumbled.
Ivy wrung her hands as she stood on the final stair before the sand. Eudoria had already marched quietly into the arena, her face to the approaching dawn. Tomas, Samuel, and Adán stood near the entrance, their heads close together as they exchanged whispered words. Strategies.
I glanced over at Ivy. “Together,” I whispered. She nodded at me, her face pale.
The energy in the growing crowd was reaching a fever pitch as the fae prepared to watch the trial. Goblets of wine clanked in loud toasts, and the volume of the laughter increased as the darkness faded.
My upper lip curled. “Heathens,” I breathed, tearing my eyes away from the fae as they tipped forward and back in riotous laughter.
Ivy shot me a warning glance, like I might possibly offend these deplorable fae.
“Hey, over there,” Tomas said, pointing behind me.
I swiveled on the last step and spotted two people throwing punches a few rows up. Both were wearing the white servants’ tunics. One of the men bent to grab something from a nearby fae. A flash of silver caught the light as he stood and slashed at the other man.
Ivy pressed both hands to the sides of her face. “What are they doing? Somebody stop them!”
Tomas climbed up from the arena into the stands, leaping over the stone benches two at a time.
Samuel crossed his arms and stared at the fight. “The fae probably provoked it. They’re itching for blood.”
“Be careful,” I called to Tomas.
Before Tomas could reach them, the larger of the two men charged his opponent and jammed a knife into the man’s stomach. I turned aside, unable to watch. Ivy tugged my arm, and I clung to her.
The wounded man fell to the ground. Cheers rang out from the fae in attendance. My head throbbed, and my chest felt like someone was crushing it.
“Isn’t anyone going to help him?” Ivy pleaded, but no one was listening.
Behind us, Samuel chimed in. “The fae love this, don’t you see?”
Ivy gripped my arm tighter, and I hurriedly scanned the crowd for Casimiro. He healed mortals. Perhaps he’d heal this man too.
Then I caught myself. Casimiro was the enemy.
“What is it?” Ivy asked, watching my shifting expression.
I gave a small shake of my head. “Nothing.”
As I watched helplessly from the huddle of fae and mortals pressed in a ring around the wounded man, Casimiro’s words blared loudly in my head. You mistake the reason I am watching you.
“Ivy, in the trial, if—”
But before I could tell her she should stay close to me, a fissure opened up in the crowd, allowing Casimiro a pathway to the bloody scene. Felipe flanked him, and Alba trailed behind them, her attention floating across the crowd and up into the sky, as if she barely noted our presence.
The prince’s gaze scraped across the arena, pausing briefly on the man holding the knife, then the wounded man, before flitting again to the rest of the people present. His eyes moved quickly until they landed on me, a flash of relief loosening his tight scowl. He then continued his scan of the crowd.
Heat shot up my legs and arms, despite the cold dawn air.
I turned away, angry at the way my mind was in danger of sinking back into its old habit of assuming the best about someone. I’d assumed the best about too many bad men. I had to remember that Casimiro thought of me as nothing more than a tool. Something to use and dispose of. That was my only value to him—that was why he didn’t . I was no more to him than the limp toy I’d seen him throw to his pet hellhound.
The servant holding the knife lifted his shoulders as the prince neared, but he didn’t drop the weapon. Casimiro snapped his fingers, and the bloodstained knife jerked free of the man’s hand and hovered in the air at his neck, pressed to his flesh with magic.
The man swallowed and lifted his chin away from the blade.
“Cas, let him be,” one of the fae beside the prince said. He was shorter than the rest, his skin the purple-gray hue of a fading sunset. His blue eyes were bright against his odd features, like stars in a night sky. “This is the best thing I’ve seen all week—save that pretty one’s dance.” His attention flashed to me, and he sneered. Gooseflesh washed over my skin.
Casimiro inhaled slowly. “Fine. But clean up this mess,” he ordered the murderer. As he turned to go, he fastened two ebony eyes on me once more.
“Time to go,” Erik beckoned, waving his arms and hustling us down onto the sand. He always accompanied us to the arena.
As the six of us shuffled to the center of the arena floor, the fae whistled and catcalled. Magic sparked in the air.
“We’ve tasted blood now,” Erik cooed as he herded us forward. “You all better not disappoint us.”
A fae with skin almost as dark as the stone surrounding us snapped his fingers at me from the front row of benches. I’d heard someone call him Manuel. “I wager she’ll kill to stay alive.”
His words fixed to my mind like shining black leeches, sucking away my confidence and composure. Would I kill to stay alive? The thought had never crossed my mind, and I hated that it did now, along with a flash of heat in my throat that suggested he might not be wrong.
I reached forward and grabbed Ivy’s hand, tugging her back to walk beside me. “I won’t hurt you,” I whispered into her ear. My fingers squeezed.
She squeezed back, her thin fingers stronger than they looked. “I know.”
My shoulders lifted.
Ivy cleared her throat and added, “The magic of the arena changes people. Best not to think about it too much after.” Her hand slipped from mine, and she smoothed her hair back.
“Magic?” I pressed my hand to the pocket containing the ruby, desperate for it to work and keep me alive.
Ivy flashed me a pinched-brow look. “They can cast enchantments on us while we’re in here. Or on the arena. Or on the objects they give us. On all of it. Or none of it. The only rule is that they can’t kill us…directly.”
The ruby in my pocket called to my fingertips again, but there were too many eyes watching, so I kept my hands at my sides as we turned to face the audience. Our footsteps squeaked in the sand, whereas Erik walked silently, a ghost leading skeletons to their graves.
“I’m not dying today,” I snarled, glaring at Erik.
He flashed me a smile that glowed white against the surrounding gray. In his hair, small twisting vines appeared, growing straight out of the air and reaching up into an impressive crown of leaves and stems.
I’d thought the long-sleeved dress would help me stay warm, but this icy morning had claws that raked my cheeks and chest. Curling inward, I wrapped my arms around my body and prayed this torture would be over soon. But I wasn’t sure who or what to pray to. Many Avencians prayed to the sun, some to the stars, but now that I was here, in a place the sun had no power, I didn’t think it was worth my time. Ivy’s words about the First and Last flashed through my mind. She’d said all power gifted to the fae came from this deity I’d never heard of. If he had power over the immortals, he must be truly omnipotent. I worded a quick prayer to this god I didn’t know, hoping he cared for little mortals like me, whose lives were but a breath.
The laughter and the chatter of the fae drowned out a fainter sound I couldn’t place. A quiet whoosh-whoosh that didn’t match the silence of the still air.
In the brightening sky above, a dark shape floated across the few remaining stars—a dragon, wings spread wide. It was high above, uninterested in us, it seemed. I watched until its small black outline disappeared behind the cliffs.
“Did you see that?” I whispered to Ivy.
“A dragon,” she said with a nod.
“I thought they caged them all.”
“Oh, no. The dragons hate the fae. And so the fae capture some of them and train them like horses, just to prove they can.”
What I wouldn’t give to be free like that creature right now.
My eyes fell and landed on the sole figure standing in the rows of stone benches, arms crossed, feet wide. Casimiro’s expression was hidden in shadow, but the faint light of dawn rested on his shoulders and shining hair. When he’d rescued me from the water earlier, he’d worn nothing but an unkempt white shirt, but now he wore a shining black jacket over it, his first button still lazily undone. On his head sat the black crown. He was speaking to Alba, a smile on his face, and I found that I couldn’t look away.
“Zara, remember. They can enchant us,” Ivy warned from nearby.
The words snapped me back to reality. The trial. Casimiro was about to try to kill everyone standing in the sand but me. I couldn’t think of him as attractive .
Ivy stuttered a little, then crept closer. “Do you know St. John’s wart?”
I lowered my arm and turned to her. “It’s a plant, but what about it?”
The stands continued to fill with other fae prancing in to watch us bleed from whatever perils the heir had cooked up for us. One female fae crept in on all fours, dressed like a white tiger, with actual whiskers and—if I was seeing correctly—a tail.
“It can ward off enchantments for a brief period. The mortals here all clamor for it, but it’s hard to get. The servants are the only ones with access to it, and they don’t give it out freely. Everything here costs something, and these fae value secrets above all else. Pay for St. John’s wart if you can, and take it before every trial. If I’d had some left, I’d have given you some, but I haven’t gotten hold of any in weeks.”
The stands were mostly filled now. Drinks sloshed as glasses clinked. Laughter rolled down over us. Dresses and suits sparkled in the dying starlight, and the sickly-sweet scent of the fae’s spiced wine drifted down from the crowd.
I nodded at Ivy. “I will.” If I could find that herb, I would feel much better about talking to Casimiro again—and maybe the twisting in my stomach that happened every time he approached would dissipate.
“The games are about to begin!” Felipe shouted. He lifted both arms from his position beside Casimiro and held them aloft until the crowd grew somewhat silent. “Cast your enchantments now.”
With a satisfied inhale, Felipe lowered his arms and rubbed his palms together.
Sparks of magic and howling laughter filled the dark arena. Ivy bent down and vomited. I raced to her, but my feet stopped moving mid-stride and anchored to the sand, sending my arms pinwheeling. I pumped my arms, but my feet wouldn’t budge. Panic seized my lungs, making it hard to breathe. In my nightmares, I could never run forward.
My eyes cut to the heir. How could he possibly think I’d survive a trial where running was required if my feet were cemented to the ground? Hatred tingled in my toes and warmed my blood as the grates leading off the arena slid open.
From the darkness came howls and slavering sounds. Two black hounds raced out into the fading night, fangs bared, hackles raised. Cold, burning fear shot through me.
The first dip chased Tomas. My heart flipped as I watched the dog take him down with ease. I couldn’t run, but I could throw. I bent to take my shoe off, but my foot wouldn’t lift. The sand scrunched under my foot, and I frantically tore at my shoe until it wiggled free in the soft sand, my foot never moving from the spot. I threw the shoe at the dog as it bit at Tomas’s leg. It whirled on me, and I recognized its scarred face. It was Diego, the heir’s pet, and it charged toward me.
That was stupid of me.
Ivy screamed. Laughter and cheers poured from the stands.
The hound’s red eyes paralyzed me even more than the magic holding me down. For a moment, I considered praying, but I still didn’t know who might be listening or why they’d want to hear from me.
In two more breaths, the dog would be on me.
Sheer lunacy drove me to open my mouth and shriek, “Diego! Sit!”
The animal clamped its jaws shut and landed on all fours a handsbreadth in front of my leg. It sniffed my bare foot and my skirt, its nose hovering near the pocket that contained the ruby. Then it sat.
Relief flooded through me. Cas had kept his word.
Red eyes stared at me, as if awaiting my next command. The other hound was snarling and snapping its jaws at someone, but I couldn’t tear my attention away from the monster at my feet.
My chest rose and fell so fast I thought I might startle the creature into attacking again, so I lifted a hand and muttered, “Wait.”
Then I carefully bent down, slid my other shoe out from under my immovable foot, and held it above the ugly dog’s head. Its ridged snout lifted as its eyes tracked the shoe. A snarl issued from its throat.
“Diego, fetch.” I hurled the shoe, and to my surprise, the monstrous dog sped away from me.
I bent forward and braced my weight on my knees, whistling with relief. Peals of laughter cut through the awful sounds of the other dip attacking human flesh. I didn’t look. Instead, I locked eyes with Ivy, who stared at me with an open mouth.
Then, to my horror, Diego returned with my shoe. He dropped it on the sand at my feet, where it garnered a nice layer of grit on top of the thick slobber already coating it.
The fae were shouting now, some in elation, others in anger, but I focused only on the beast before me. Soon, the second hound left its victim to stalk another. I noted its massive black form trotting across the sand toward Ivy.
“Not tonight,” I growled. I grabbed the slobber-coated shoe and chucked it at the second dog, my feet still rooted to the spot. It missed, but the dog glanced my way. I didn’t know its name, couldn’t command it to sit or fetch. Would the stone cause both hounds to obey me?
The second dip stalked toward me.
Fear rose like bile in my throat. “Dieg—” I moaned, throat tightening. I coughed and pointed at the second creature. “Diego,” I tried again. “Hunt.”
The dog before me leaped to its feet, whirling to face his opponent. Or so I thought. Instead, the hound lunged for Tomas, who was jogging away from the creatures. I shouted and tried to jump, but my feet were still unable to leave the ground where they were planted.
As the second hound neared, I bent my knees and readied a fist to punch the monster. But as the animal’s teeth nipped at my arm, Diego charged back toward me and leaped on my attacker, taking him down with fangs implanted in the other dog’s throat. Faster than it took me to straighten my knees, Diego had silenced the second monster.
My hand flew to my chest as I stared down at the struggling black hound. The red light in its eyes faded, and when no light remained, Diego sat back on his haunches and looked up at the stands. A deep, resonant voice called over the din of cacophonous cheers and boos from the crowd.
“Diego! Come.”
Casimiro stood in front of the tunnel entrance, his black boots in the sand where the mortals stood. He pointed his finger back toward the darkened cavern where the dog’s cage lay.
Diego trotted off into the shadows.
The heir locked eyes on me, and a shiver traced down my exposed skin.