Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
QUEEN RUNA CUSTODIS OF CARCEREM
LOCATION: THE PIT.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the opening ceremony of The Fallen Trials!” the announcer’s voice boomed, and the arena erupted into cheers.
Not a single seat remained empty. The turnout for the newly reinstated games had exceeded even our highest hopes.
Soon, Carcerem’s depleted coffers would be full again—our kingdom poised to thrive as it was always meant to.
“Are you ready, Little Thief?” Victor peered down at me, silver hair catching the sunlight.
My mate looked every inch the king he was born to be in a tunic richly embroidered with shimmering threads.
Together, we stood in a gilded chariot, decked out in full regalia.
Matching crowns gleamed on our heads, golden branches set with priceless stones.
Nobody staring up at their queen would ever guess I’d once been a thief. The bodice of my gown was sculpted with silver stitching that mimicked the trunk of our sacred tree. Its limbs trailed down my hips before bursting into deep purple leaves that mirrored my lavender-tipped hair.
“Let’s give these bloodthirsty heathens a party they won’t soon forget,” I declared, and Victor nodded to the guards at the gate.
Our enchanted chariot floated toward the entrance of the colosseum, or “The Pit,” as the locals called it. At our appearance, the roar of the crowd swelled until the announcer’s magically amplified voice rose above the chaos.
“Good people of Carcerem. I present to you your hosts, King Victor Custodis and Queen Runa Starborn.”
The cheers that followed were deafening.
They vibrated my bones as our chariot set off on a circuit that traveled the sandy area.
While Victor and I waved to the masses, memories drifted through my brain.
Those of the last time we’d completed a similar trek around this space, as prisoners forced to compete in the false king’s savage games.
Today, we would be the ones who made the rules.
First, competitors would be volunteers, hungry for glory. Also, the games would be smaller, since I refused to drain the sacred arbor’s magic to put on this spectacle. And yet they would remain deadly enough to thrill the masses.
With our lap of the arena complete, Victor and I stepped out of the chariot and onto a golden platform. A flick of his bejeweled fingers, and the disc we stood upon levitated off the sands. My mate’s arm circled my waist, and he pulled me against him in a way that made my blood race.
Thousands of eyes were on us, but his gaze burned only for me. He bent to my ear, voice a husky rumble. “Have I told you how beautiful you look this evening?”
“Not once.” I grinned up at him, brushing a lock of silver hair over his shoulder.
“Little liar.” He smirked, flashing a tantalizing bit of fang, then turned his attention to the crowd. Together we hovered several feet above the sand, eye level with those seated.
“Citizens and visitors of Carcerem, I welcome you to The Fallen Trials. I am pleased to see so many have returned.” Victor’s god-like power amplified his words, filling the open arena with the polished speech he’d prepared.
I waited with great impatience for my moment. The newly crowned king did enjoy the sound of his own voice. Finally, he swept his arm in my direction and nodded.
Energy flared hot in my glowing palms, and magic surged up from my center.
Not one for speeches, I shouted, “I declare The Fallen Trials open!” With a clap of my hands, fireworks exploded over our heads.
The illusion I’d prepared filled the sky above the colosseum for all to see.
In the glimmering explosions, an image of Victor’s kingly face formed.
The crowd cheered as it shattered, becoming a thousand sparkling flutterflies that buzzed around those seated. They shouted with delight.
“What do you think?” I grinned at my mate.
“A stunning likeness.” He grasped my hand, our bond sparking between us.
Below, the first competitor emerged from the gates.
His chariot was a hulking mass of iron with thick spikes jutting from the front.
My brother, Kronk, stood in the back, his brawny arms folded over his gleaming chest plate.
Hammered bands circled his biceps, their girth thicker than my waist. Pride welled as the announcer read off the stats of Carcerem’s returning champion.
This was the first time any of the so-called “fallen” were seen after competing.
Under Idris’ reign, no victor had ever survived long enough to return.
One of the millions of reasons Idris’ legacy of misery could suck it. Victor and I were in charge now.
Drazen arrived next. He glided atop a sleek black chariot that resembled stones found around volcanoes.
His polished horns gleamed, gold tips sparkling beneath the lights.
Bare-chested, he wore flame-embroidered pants, giving the impression that fire raced up his calves.
He blew kisses to the swooning women, waving as he passed.
I grinned, shaking my head. Goddess, there would be no living with him after this.
Despite my concern for my brothers’ safety, it proved impossible to talk them out of competing. I blamed myself. After years of traveling the kingdom together, raiding the false king’s convoys, it wasn’t easy for them to remain in one place. Even if it was a castle.
I didn’t blame them; part of me longed for the simplicity of those days. Being queen with the responsibilities of rebuilding Carcerem had come with its own challenges.
Victor claimed my hand as the next challenger entered the arena. This particular hero was a captain in our growing army. My mate caressed my knuckles with his thumb. “I can sense your tension, Little Thief. Still disappointed you couldn’t compete with your brothers?”
I sighed. “Yes, and no. Back when we were forced to participate for King Idris’ amusement, I’d have done anything to escape the games. But now, I think I would have enjoyed fighting at my brothers’ sides again.”
Victor’s silver eyes turned smoky. “After the trials, you and I can play our own game.”
The husky rumble in his voice did delicious things to my body. “If you believe you can keep up,” I purred. “Later. Time for the next phase of our grand opening.”
With a snap of Victor’s magic, our hovering platform glided across the arena, setting us down at the royal pavilion. Silk banners billowed from the canopy’s columns, framing two thrones carved in the likeness of our sacred arbor.
My mate had slipped into his role as protector of the great tree as though born for it, wielding its strength with effortless command. Through my bond with him, his control deepened, the tree’s ancient magic answering.
Another flick of his fingers and the lesser-known challengers entered the pit. Dozens of high-ranking champions exited their chariots, joining the masses.
“Ready?” Victor took my hand, and power ignited between us.
Together, we pulled a sliver of strength from the sacred tree and wove it into the spectacle.
Soon, we’d give the crowd a taste of what awaited them.
An illusion of the creatures the competitors would face tomorrow—a glimpse of the terrors I would conjure, made real by Carcerem’s rightful king.
Our fingers laced, magic sparking as if the air itself rejoiced in our bond. Joined as one, we raised our arms high, light shimmering between our palms. For an instant, all Carcerem waited for the spectacle with their breath held.
“On the count of—”
The ground rumbled.
Thunder cracked, drowning the crowd’s anticipation. Screams tore through the stands as the arena shuddered beneath us. In The Pit, sand rippled like ocean waves, dust rising like fog.
I clutched Victor’s arm, my knees wobbling.
“Did you do that?” I gasped.
His noble features tightened with alarm. “I did not.” He gripped the railing and closed his eyes as he reached outward. “Do you feel it?”
I set my hand on top of his, and our bond surged. Oily blackness coated the back of my tongue. Shadows scraped the edges of my senses, cold and gnawing.
“It feels hollow. Dead. Yet, hungry. So hungry.”
“It’s him,” Victor snarled. “The Dark One. Sooner than I expected.”
“No.” Jagged stones sank into my stomach. “We’re not ready.”
Drazen and Kronk had warned us about the horde of wendigos they’d discovered. We’d considered canceling the games, but needed the funds to fortify our army.
It was a gamble that wouldn’t pay off.
“Sound the alarm,” Victor snapped, voice thundering. “Protect your queen.”
Steel clanged at our backs, our elite guard forming a semicircle.
Below, shouts erupted.
The sand rumbled with fissures that gaped like wormholes in Hell’s underbelly.
Clawed hands burst free—scrabbling, tearing.
Skeletal shapes wrapped in blackened flesh hauled themselves into the open.
Teeth gnashed. Shrieks cut the air like glass.
The sound scraped over my skin, leaving gooseflesh in its wake.
“Drazen described them.” I swallowed. “I didn’t believe him.”
“Wendigos,” Victor said grimly, his grip denting the railing.
“And they brought friends.” More figures crawled out behind them—half-rotten bodies with glazed eyes and torn clothes. The stench of decay carried even to our platform.
“Ghouls,” Victor spat. “They’ve tunneled under the wall.”
Magic sparked in my palms, responding to my panic. “With the entire kingdom in attendance, we can’t save them all.”
“This attack is a diversion.” Victor scanned the commotion with keen eyes. “It’s the sacred arbor he really desires. I left a small contingent of soldiers at the castle. We’ll fall back and defend the tree while our army protects the villagers.”
Below, our champions barked commands, organizing the competitors to fight. True, this gathering had placed thousands in danger. It had also brought the strongest and bravest in Carcerem together. We may not be at full strength yet, but those monsters would not find us easy prey.
I hated to withdraw, but Victor was right. It was our sacred duty to protect the arbor. Without it, Carcerem was doomed.
The decision steadied me. We had a plan. Our odds of defeating The Dark One were good. All wasn’t lost. Not yet. If we acted swiftly, we might stand a chance. “Let’s hurry, if we—”
Darkness fell.
The colosseum held its breath.
Wings, vast and black, smothered the sky.
I gasped, “Is that—”
Flames streaked through the sky in a deluge. They exploded against the walls of the colosseum with the fury of a meteor. Stone cracked, fire screamed across the stands as civilians wailed.
The beast’s scales flashed emerald in the inferno.
My blood froze. No. Not him.
The false king’s imprisoned dragon had returned to the Fallen Trials. And this time…
He played for the wrong team. Bloody traitor.
Victor raised his glowing palms, snarling, “Let the games begin.”