Chapter 12
The grey, early morning sky churns, bloated with heavy clouds promising rain. Lightning crackles, dancing across the heavens, and a damp chill claws through my thin pirate shirt.
A clap of thunder shakes the ground, and a handful of the bodies gathered in the courtyard tilt their heads to the sky.
At a low balcony, Caelus observes us with an unamused smirk. Those around me avoid his gaze, but whether it’s out of fear or respect, I’m unsure.
But not me. Not Harriet. I keep my unwavering gaze pinned on him.
He may wear the face of a predator, but I’m the hunter dressed in camouflage. I know his secrets and his weaknesses. When I win this competition, I’m going to laugh as I slowly drown him with my power. Revenge for ever thinking he could rule over me.
A gust shoots across the courtyard, blowing dirt and bits of rock. I throw my hand to my hat, holding it down as the courtyard silences.
“Welcome to The Gales,” Caelus’s voice booms over the crowd, carried and amplified by wind. “As you know, I am hosting this competition to celebrate the considerable power Terra grants the Sky Court. Each of you are here in hopes of winning a single wish.”
Eager faces smile up at him—falling for his lies when the odds of them leaving with their lives are slim. I cross my arms and swallow, my blonde hair falling into my eyes.
“Three trials will be held over the course of the next three weeks, and those left standing at the end will be judged by Terra herself.”
Murmurs rise from the crowd, from those who have never seen Terra in the flesh. I’ve seen the goddess twice—one when she blessed me as the heir to the sea, and again when she cursed me. Other than that, she rests, indifferent to what we do on the surface.
Until now.
“As some of you are aware, you cannot kill each other unless you are in the arena.”
I swallow and fight the urge to check over my shoulder—to avoid the possibility of meeting Kressa’s glare somewhere in the crowd.
“You all will be residing within the castle during the length of the competition. You may come and go during the day, but come nightfall, anyone found outside the walls will be executed.”
A lump forms in my throat, and feet shuffle around me, whispers circulating. Caelus only smiles and cocks a brow.
“Many of you will die competing for the prize, a handful will survive, but only one will win. Those of you who no longer wish to participate are free to leave now. This is your final chance.”
Bodies weave around me, their heads hung low as they pour out of the courtyard. My feet don’t falter.
Death doesn’t scare me anymore.
But never again experiencing the thrill of sailing through a storm? Or never finding the rest of my crew? Now that, I’m terrified of.
Caelus surveys the thinned crowd and nods. “Remain still.”
He lifts his hand, and a glittering tendril settles over the courtyard like a blanket. It sinks into my skin and forces itself down my lungs. It stings—not gentle like Gemma’s power and not wild like my own. It’s violent, like a pelting of hail.
It slithers into my chest cavity and pauses, as if noticing something out of place—or something familiar.
My dormant power.
Caelus stiffens. Eyes narrowed, he sweeps his gaze over the crowd, searching. My heart stutters, and sweat gathers on my palms. A muscle along his jaw feathers, and he turns, whispering into the ear of a guard beside him.
The guard nods, and Caelus returns his attention to the crowd. His power dissipates, lifting like an anvil from my stomach.
“Congratulations.” His expression is as cold as the wind snapping at my face. “You are now bound to The Gales.”
About fifty men and women remain in the courtyard, some whose faces are bright and unmarred by time. But there are others—their cheeks hollow, moth-eaten clothes hanging from their shoulders. The ones who lived in Sarenia before Caelus took control and forced from their homes.
A knot tightens in my chest. Caelus hosts these extravagant dinners and balls—entertains at any expense. Yet there are people unable to feed themselves. No place to call home.
My heart aches at the thought of the families they left to come here. The ones they may leave behind.
The lives I’ll need to end if I want to win.
I blink, hard. My gaze settles on a group of pirates tucked into the far corner, eyeing me. Unwilling to look away, I search their faces, but I don’t recognize any of them from Cassio’s crew.
The wind shifts, and a shiver travels up the back of my neck, sending a jolt down my spine.
“Caelus?” a voice drawls—taunting and teasing out his name a letter at a time.
A fresh tremor shoots over my body, and every head swings in her direction, but I can’t move. My feet are rooted to the spot.
At the balcony, Caelus’s head swivels, and his gaze pins on the bounty hunter behind me. “Yes?”
“A shame you won’t be joining us.”
I raise my brows and finally turn. Leaning against a stone wall, cast in shadows, stands Kressa. Her hood is drawn over her head, but I catch the smug tilt to her lips.
He bares his teeth. “And why would I?”
She steps into the light, her smirk deepening as she shrugs off her hood. “Why? The chance at a wish.”
“What could I possibly wish for?”
The air in the courtyard thickens, growing taut—the way a bowstring quivers before it’s released.
“Power of your own, of course,” Kressa says.
Lightning flashes through the sky, and a spear strikes the cobblestones at her feet, sending rocks shooting up. Those around her lurch back and shield their eyes. But Kressa doesn’t so much as flinch.
“If I were you, competitor, I would reconsider how you speak to me.”
A chuckle rumbles from her throat.
I scan her, trying and failing to find her prerogative—why she’d want to paint a larger target on her back.
But then I catch Caelus’s knuckles blanching as he squeezes the marble railing. His eyes burn with a hatred so viscous, so fierce, I’ve only witnessed it a handful of times—moments before an execution.
It’s not that he won’t kill Kressa, or any of the rest of us for that matter.
He can’t.
And somehow, she knew that enough to test it.
Caelus pulls his attention away from her and clears his throat. “Tonight, there will be a welcome ceremony, and your attendance is mandatory. If you are not present, it will be considered a forfeit of the competition, and you will be executed.”
My throat bobs on a swallow. There’s no room for error tonight. If I so much as time the glamour wrong, even for a minute, I’ll expose myself.
“Guards will escort you to your quarters in the east wing. Staff will be at your rooms shortly with clothing that is more…suitable for tonight’s ceremony.” He glances at the men dressed in rags. “For the trials, you may wear whatever you wish. Good luck.”
He spares a final, seething look at Kressa and turns on his heel, striding into the castle. The double doors slam behind him, rattling the glass panes.
Royal guards march into the courtyard, their gloved hands resting on the hilt of their swords. “Into two lines!”
Lingering behind, I survey the men and women I’m up against. I judge the gait of their steps and the breadth of their shoulders. The men lined up at the front, with their wide frames and clenched fists seem to be my biggest competition. But I know not to assume.
Sometimes the biggest threats aren’t the most obvious.
A hand clamps down on my shoulder and jerks me back. My feet scramble as a man’s brown eyes meet mine, and he leans forward, his hot breath skating over my face. “Tell me, pirate, how many innocent lives have you handed over to Caelus?”
I get a closer look at him—brown hair and a faint, jagged scar running across the bridge of his nose.
My lip quirks. It’s been ages since I was threatened in broad daylight, for all to see. “I’d take your hand off me, if I were you.”
His mouth twists into a grimace. “I can’t kill you, yet, but I can make you wish you were dead.”
I bark a laugh.
His fist flies toward my jaw. I bank right, dodging it, but his elbow finds its mark at my temple and throws me back. Pain sears through my skull, but I grit my teeth as I grab his wrist, twisting it around his back.
Before he has a chance to regain his balance, I hook my arm around his throat and squeeze. Tight.
“Your question,” I snarl, “about how many innocent people I’ve handed over to Caelus? The answer is none.”
I loosen my hold and slam my foot into his back. He splays onto the ground and heaves, unable to suck in a full breath.
I wipe my hands on my pants and smile. “I look forward to doing this again.”
Leaving him, I stride to the lines forming at the castle doors. Every competitor stares at me, some wide-eyed, others with a narrowed expression.
But there’s a single one with her brow lifted, amused.
My skin crawls under her gaze.
I give her a wide berth as I join the opposite line and train my attention on the person in front of me.
“I see you’ve met Simon,” Kressa says.
Without looking her way, I mumble, “It seems he met me.”
She chuckles and mutters something under her breath that goes unheard as the guards lead us through the doorway.
We march up the grand staircase. Servants and nobles alike part for us, staring as we pass.
Competitors gawk at the marble walls and the blue silks spilling over the banisters.
Most of them have never entered the castle, or at least not since it’s been under Sky Court possession.
I’m the only competitor familiar with these halls, even if I shouldn’t be.
Kressa’s hand curls into a fist and reaches for a blade that isn’t strapped to her waist.
We bottleneck at the landing, and I step out of line, kneeling down. I wait a moment before whispering, “Did you hear?”
I pull my laces from their perfectly tied knots and glance out the corner of my eye. Gemma and Thea huddle at the open window overlooking the balcony Caelus gave his announcement from.
Thea nods. “East wing?”
“Yes. And Marianne?”