Chapter 20 #2
The witch nods. “All powers are permitted, but no magical items, potions, tonics, or weapons are allowed.” She glances at Sienna’s boot. “Take out your dagger, kid.”
Frowning, Sienna unsheathes a familiar dagger and hands it to the other professor. “I want that back.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, setting it amidst a pile of assorted weaponry. “You’ll get it back.”
“One last thing.” The witch looks between the three of us, her hesitancy keeping her silent for far too long. “Be careful if you get surrounded. Find a safe place to wait out danger rather than rushing toward it, or you might not come back tonight.”
I hold her gaze until her mind unlocks, remaining careful not to use too much of my power to alert her to my influence over her mind. “Speak plainly. Why are you nervous?”
“The wards,” she mumbles, her words sluggish. “The oldest ones are strong, but the new ones are flickering. They won’t hold during the solstice.”
“What do you mean?” Sienna asks, frowning. “The academy won’t protect us?”
“Too many creatures siphoning magic from the same source at the same time,” I surmise, unsurprised that latest magical wards struggle to hold with so many bodies straining to tap into the same power source.
“It means that their latest rule banning murder among students is too weak to protect everyone.”
Those not strong enough to defend themselves could easily be slaughtered.
I know a fair few vampires who will be craving blood after weeks without a fresh meal.
Though draining life completely is a sacred act, sampling the buffet is not, and there are a fair number of fledgling vampires enrolled at Heartsflame without the foresight to know the difference.
Dmitri will have his work cut out for him if he’s to report all the accidental drainings from tonight’s event—or attempt to stop them altogether.
A pity that his talents are wasted on such menial tasks.
“We have staff members on standby as medical aides,” the witch assures us, regaining her composure.
“Of course you do.” I smile as coldly as the ancient crypts that lie beneath our feet. “Yet no one will lift a finger if the danger is too perilous, I’m sure.”
The witch’s face pales. “We do our best, but we’re no different than the rest of you.”
The fact that former students, unmated ones at that, become staff who can’t shield the student body is infuriating.
“Not having a dedicated healer on staff cripples you.” I stare down my nose at her, though the witch’s incompetence isn’t directly her fault.
From what I understand, there hasn’t been a master healer among witches in centuries.
It’s a lost art, and those who know the skill aren’t keen on sharing outside their covens.
Shifters can’t heal non-shifters, vampires have little desire to heal mortals, and merfolk practices won’t work above water.
Students are truly on their own tonight.
Clearing her throat, she moves on and nods toward the teleportation circle. “Step inside, and I’ll send you off to the arena.”
Revyn wraps an arm around Sienna’s waist and leads her past the outermost circle of runes.
“Have you eaten?” he asks, his brow furrowing.
“I brought you food earlier, but the bastard guarding your door wouldn’t let me in.
” His jaw tics, and I empathize with his frustration.
Not only did they magically seal Sienna’s bedroom door at Alistair’s behest but they also set two guards on duty all day and night.
Protection for Alistair’s true mate—or for the students our wild wolf will be unleashed upon tonight?
Leaving her balcony unmonitored was a foolish oversight . . . unless Alistair wanted her to break out.
The thought has crossed my mind.
“I’m fine,” Sienna assures Revyn, cracking her knuckles and loosing the laces of her corset. “I’m gonna pay that bastard back for thinking he can control me.” Her eyes glow a brighter shade of gold as she rolls her shoulders and bounces on her heels.
Magic snaps around us, and we’re instantly teleported to a frozen lake, its matte surface dusted with snow.
Magic folk of all kinds slip across the ice in a frenzy of movement.
Pained screams rip through the air, and blasts of fire erupt in the distance, brightening the sky before disappearing and plunging it back into darkness.
Only the moon shines light on the battlefield . . . and it is bloody.
“It’s a fucking free-for-all,” Revyn marvels, baring his teeth in a wide grin. “This should be fun.”
Fun is a subjective word. I’d much rather be licking blood wine off my lover’s body until we succumb to eternal ecstasy, but to each their own, I suppose.
Stepping past the circle of runes, we take in our surroundings.
Half a dozen bodies litter the ground at our feet, a few newly deceased while others lie beneath a magical shield with their number hovering on top.
Two violet number threes, a blue one, a green five, and an orange seven didn’t make it past the first step in this so-called arena.
The dead do not wear numbers; their lifeless bodies speak for themselves.
None of us linger to mourn the lost souls.
Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my curiosity, but it’s only the little redheaded witch waving wildly at us from a cluster of nearby boulders.
How stupid to give away her position.
“Hey!” Gemma shouts. She quickly looks around for enemies before waving at us again. “Over here!”
“By my estimation,” I murmur, glancing up at the moon as I follow Sienna toward her friend, “we have a little over ten hours left until sunrise.”
“Alistair will find us before then,” Sienna muses aloud, “but I’d rather hunt him down myself.”
As much as I’d enjoy watching Sienna sink her claws into her mate, it is unwise for her own sake. “Fated mates share pain,” I inform her, keeping my voice down. “You may want to reconsider your plan of attack.”
Her eyes flash as she whirls on me. “He is not my mate!” Shoving my chest, she growls as her temper flares. “We don’t share anything!”
I don’t bother hiding my smirk. “I will overlook many of your flaws, Wildflower, but denial is unbecoming, even for you.”
She glowers at me, but it’s Revyn who responds as petulantly as a child.
“She doesn’t have any flaws, fanger.” Shoving past me, he scoops Sienna up and carries her to the rock formation masquerading as shelter, keeping his hands glued to her ass and taking an unnecessary moment to readjust her weight and crush her hips to his.
What a brat.
Following them, I sweep through the crevice denoting a doorway of sorts and step into the crowded circle within. Gemma, Thorn, a sparkling fae I don’t recognize, and the three of us stand staring at each other.
“This much power in one place poses a problem,” I note, the corner of my mouth twitching. The fae has a red number ten on his back, with Gemma and Thorn sporting a seven and an eight, respectively.
My number six is starting to feel like an insult.
“I’ve warded the rocks,” the fae says, a note of boredom in his tone.
Bright yellow hair and glimmering blue eyes make him appear sprightly, his thin frame not doing him any favors as he hovers in place, leaning back as though he’s lounging in a hammock rather than in midair on a battlefield.
Of all magical creatures, fae are the most annoying for that very reason: they rarely care about anything other than amusing themselves.
“Why is he here?” I lean on my hip as I assess the fae, but there’s little I can glean without him willingly exposing his powers.
“He just showed up,” Thorn grumbles, the frown etched across his lips becoming permanent. “He’s a third-year, so he’s probably bored of the Games.”
“I’ve taken an interest in this one,” the fae announces, smiling at Gemma. “But don’t worry, I am a mere observer for the evening. Carry on.”
Thorn glares daggers at the fae, not subtle in the slightest of his affection for the witch. “We don’t need an additional target on our backs. Leave.”
Humming softly, the fae sits upright. “You’re no fun, life-taker.
” He floats over to Gemma and plants his finger beneath her chin.
“I hope you survive, little rose bud.” Tipping her head up, he hovers mere inches from her face.
“I’m eager to know how your nectar tastes.
” He disappears with a pop, and the wards shielding our presence fade with him.
“For fuck’s sake,” Thorn snaps, putting Gemma at his back as he spins to face a gap in the rocks. “Get ready, people. They’re coming.”
Hmm. If someone attacks our entire group, that’s . . . “Thirty-nine points,” I muse, “if they take us all out.”
“Like hells they will.” Sienna cracks her neck and stretches her fingers, presenting razor-sharp claws as her fangs dip past her lips.
A partial transformation is uncommon for shifters during a full moon, but Revyn does the same, elongating his fangs and unlocking the joints along his spine to loosen up.
They’re practiced at this.
“Ready?” Sienna asks.
Revyn grins, knocking his shoulder against hers with a rumbling laugh. “You fucking know it, baby.”
An indescribable feeling curls inside my chest as they walk in perfect sync through the opening in the rocks. I stare at their backs as they step into formation, Revyn crouching low while Sienna tosses her arms out by her sides, both of them grinning as the ground trembles beneath our feet.
Something powerful is approaching, but that’s not what makes my throat suddenly burn and my skin feel too tight for my bones.
It’s the way that, despite the obstacles set before them, Sienna and Revyn fall right back into step with each other like not a single hardship exists between them . . . and that quickly becomes the most unfortunate revelation of the night.
The depth of their ties to each other reach far deeper than I imagined.
It glitters in the air between them, the threads of their souls interlocking despite the distance—the agitation—the suffering they’ve endured.
Sienna might pretend that she and Revyn are little more to each other than ex-lovers, but the truth comes to light in the way they move, dancing around each other with practiced ease, their movements timed to perfection.
He runs at an oncoming grizzly bear, and Sienna leaps into the air only to use Revyn’s back as a springboard, launching herself at the shifter and ramming her claws into its neck.
They aren’t just lovers.
They’re partners.
“You are screwed,” Thorn murmurs, watching the same scene unfold.
If it weren’t for the chokehold that Alistair Dire has on Sienna, I’d be inclined to agree with him. But if a true mate weakens her bond with Revyn . . . then there’s a way for me to slip between those cracks. I just have to find them before Alistair does.
“I’d be more worried about your witch than my wolf.”
Thorn flinches but doesn’t respond.
Fae are always bad news. To have caught one’s interest . . .
I glance back at Gemma to find her shouting against an invisible barrier, the grass at her feet writhing to assist, but to no avail. “That is cruel, even for you.”
“She doesn’t need more points. She needs to stay alive.” His expression flattens. “I’ll make sure she does.”
“By jeopardizing her education?” I click my tongue in mock criticism. I don’t give a fuck what Thorn does with his chosen, but the academy will. She’ll get dinged for a poor performance in tonight’s Games if she doesn’t show ample use of her power.
“Whatever it takes,” he glowers, turning on his heel to return to her side. “You remember that when it comes time to claim your mate.”
His words echo a truth that vampires like myself go to great lengths to ignore.
The vampiric council doesn’t care how you claim a mate so long as you claim one. As one of the oldest unmated vampires, I’m under scrutiny to strengthen my bloodline. If things with Sienna progress more slowly than desired, or if her bonds with the other two grow stronger . . .
I may have to cross a line that no mate would ever let me come back from.