Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
My goddess. Ziva. The deity whose fire magic runs through my veins.
I stagger back, fingers curling into my palms and cupping the flames that try to jump out beyond my control. Behind me, the dragons bugle. Not just one or two. All of them. Together. In harmony.
No, not just bugling. I hear crooning mixed in too.
They’re singing. Worshipping the goddess who views them as her favored beasts. I guess the adoration goes both ways.
My knees wobble, my body yearning to bend, to bow. How many nights did I pray to Ziva as a child, begging for help with my magic? For the ability to control it. For the skill to tap into the power that my mother feared and tried to extinguish with alchemy.
Back then, I was a child. Now, I’m a queen. And I cannot behave as though the monarchy is choosing sides.
Especially not with everyone in the courtyard watching. Figures appear in the windows, too, their attention drawn by the dragons’ song. But no one can ignore Ziva’s fiery glow as she stands at the edge of the courtyard.
“My goddess.” I incline my head, the best compromise I can muster up on the spot.
Ziva sweeps toward me, her feet hovering just above the ground.
With every step, her flames bank lower, revealing the coppery skin underneath.
“Lark. You’ve faced so many challenges lately.
” Her brilliant glow casts my skin in shades of amber and gold.
“All the madness you’ve battled, all the confusion and conflict, the tensions between your mortal kingdoms. I’ve seen it all. ”
Seen it all, yet never once reached out to help. Not even during my childhood.
Anger flares through me, but my flames remain stable. I keep them contained, controlled by the willpower I worked so hard to cultivate. Fire is just as much the element of life as destruction. Flames can provide necessary warmth or destroy.
The heat blazing from Ziva’s fire is just short of charring. Enough that every nerve in my body screams, “Stay back! Danger!”
The goddess stretches, her feet unmoving while her body somehow curves around me.
If she wanted to prove how inhuman she was, she couldn’t have picked a better way.
Her presence toasts my skin, my bones, even my blood.
I feel suddenly exposed, as though she can see through flesh to the truth beneath.
“I’ve always been proud to call you one of mine. Your fire burns true, even in darkness.”
The warmth of her presence and praise undulates through me, around me, inside me. Swells in my chest and fills me with pride, belonging, and purpose. All things I craved as a child, things I didn’t realize I still hungered for.
A chill skates over my skin when Ziva returns to her spot near the rift in the sky. She presents me with her back as she cranes her neck to stare up at the palace. Flame red hair floats behind her, lifted by the updraft created from her own heat. “You know the gods are at war.”
A hesitation flickers beneath her words. An unnamed shadow. Pride mingled with…what? Regret? Fear?
Whatever it is, my skin tingles with alarm. “I do,” I respond warily.
“That’s why I need you, Lark.”
Oh gods.
I stamp out the prayer before it can continue. “For what?”
The graphs and the blood-spattered drawings of those crystals flit through my mind like a hazy warning. I hope with everything inside me that my instincts are wrong and she’s not about to ask what I think she is.
She shifts to the side, waving her hand and highlighting the air with her glowing hair. “Be our champion.”
So much for hope.
The words hang between us, terrible in their simplicity. We gaze at each other while a hysterical laugh races up my throat, along with the burn of stomach acid.
No. Absolutely not.
I bury my fingers in my hair and yank. This cannot be happening. Surely, even the gods would never be so cruel, would they?
But with dread settling into my bones and ice filling my veins, I fear I already know the answer.
My mind rebels. Fragments. All I can do is stare, slack-jawed.
“This is nothing new for you. You protect things.” Ziva reaches for me but stops short of touching, her blood-red nails creating sparks. “You protect your people, your kingdom, the dragons. All excellent things you should be proud of. Now I’m offering you a chance to protect the entire world.”
In a daze, I find myself seeking the face and body beneath the aura of heat. Her features are sharp, almost catlike. Narrow, upturned nose, thin upper lip, slightly pointed ears, sharp cheekbones, pointy chin.
Maybe this is all a nightmare. Maybe I’ll wake up and realize I never met the Goddess of Fire. Everything will be okay because no one asked me to face off with the love of my life in a battle to the death.
Except, by now I know better.
I close my eyes, inhaling through my nose to stop myself from hyperventilating. I open them again with frantic denial still racing through my mind. “Knox.” His name is a talisman I cling to against the horror unfolding before me. “Are you aware that Knox, my betrothed, is the other champion?”
“I am aware of who serves my soft-hearted, wayward brother.” Her black eyes peer over the rift before her body finishes traversing it. Flames waltz above her head.
Her fluid movements mesmerize me, threatening to disrupt my train of thought. “One of the champions will die. Will be killed by the other.”
“Death is merely another state of existing. This battle is about the very nature of existence. The fight will determine whether, and how, mortals serve gods.” Her voice rises, crackling like embers.
“This is about maintaining, or restoring, the order that worked well for the protection of mortals for so long. Recent events have bumped the relationship between humans and gods out of balance. You can restore that balance.”
Whether we serve the gods? What does that mean? Does a possible future exist where we don’t have to? If so, who’s fighting for that?
All questions I dare not ask. Especially not with that gaping rift behind her. The stars are always watching, and right now, the realm of the gods has an open view to this discussion.
The goddess leans closer, her warmth a caress that both lures me in and urges me to bolt. “If you agree to be our champion, to fight for Zeru’s faction in order to protect the way of life you’ve always known, you would be richly rewarded.”
Dread sucker punches me in the gut.
“No.” I somehow grate out the refusal through my dry mouth and throat.
Ziva’s expression changes into something less benevolent. Less human. “That’s very bad news. For all those living, including the dragon hatchlings you love so dearly. I don’t see how they can survive what’s coming unless you help me.”
I stumble backward as if kicked by an alicorn. My heart pounds so hard I can feel my pulse throbbing in my fingertips. My temples. The Goddess of Fire just threatened the newborns. While the dragons continue to sing for her.
Ziva advances on me, invading my personal space.
Her heat no longer feels comforting. It scorches, sucking up the moisture from my eyes and cracking my lips.
“And your own thread in life’s tapestry may become unexpectedly short.
Along with everyone who lives in this delicate stone palace.
” Her black eyes flicker over my shoulder in the direction of the fire paddock where my group probably still waits.
“Why are you doing this?” My heart wrenches in agony. I’ve always admired Ziva. I’ve prayed to her, told myself she was the flame and life of the world. My learning how to control my magic was a tribute to her. And now…
If I don’t agree to fight for her, to face Sterling in a death match, she’ll end the lives of everyone else I love?
My desperate mind grasps at straws. There must be an alternative. Another way. I could talk Sterling down. I could take his place and agree to throw the fight.
Something. Anything.
But Ziva is already taking her leave, her amber light sliding into the opening in the air.
She disappears until all that remains are spots in my vision, the acrid smell of smoke…and the pain of my heart shattering into a million pieces.
I drop onto the stony rim of the courtyard fountain, my legs suddenly unable to hold my weight. She threatened the dragons. She threatened me. And everyone else too.
Why?
“Be our champion.”
The words stab at me, sharp as knives in my skull. Harsher than Ziva’s flames against my skin.
The cold stone seeps through my clothes, but I barely notice. My thoughts spiral in tight, panicked circles. Is this some sort of twisted divine punishment? Did I do something to bring this on myself? Did the others who live within this “delicate stone palace”?
Only a goddess would consider a marble palace delicate.
Staring at the gleaming arches, my mind paints terrible pictures. I know what my fires can do to this place. But Ziva’s?
The marble would melt. The wood would incinerate. The air would fill with noxious gases. Anyone who managed to survive those horrors would need to stumble over molten floors to escape. Feathers would wither to ash.
Little Rose’s sweet smiling face flashes behind my eyes.
I suck in several deep breaths before pushing to my feet. There must be a way out of this. A solution that hasn’t yet occurred to me because I’m too worked up. Maybe someone else could—
The courtyard is empty.
I’ve no idea when the others left or what they heard. Even the dragons have disappeared from the paddock. I’m alone in the darkness.
I have no time for self-pity or recriminations. Not while the gods are moving their pieces across the board, pitting Sterling and me against each other to save the world. I need to get to him and tell him what’s happening.
There’s only one thing I know with bone-deep certainty. I will never hold him back or plot against him.
But the whole world might pay the price.
With stumbling steps, I finally reach our chambers. Sterling waits in our sitting room, eating an apple and flipping through a book.
When he notices me, his mouth curves into a wide smile. “There you are. I heard you were out of the palace, but…” He trails off, his face falling when he gets a good look at me. “What happened?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. All the things I wanted to share about the crypt and strange artifacts we found there fade in the wake of Ziva’s visit.
“What is it?” He straightens and pulls me into his lap. “Are you hurt?”
My throat closes up, trapping my reply behind a wall of grief and fear.
“Lark.” Sterling brushes my hair back to peer up at my face. “Talk to me.”
I crumble, cradling his arm to my chest like a lifeline. His other is tangled in my dry, windblown hair. “Ziva just came to me in the courtyard.”
He stills, his eyes adopting a steely glint. “What did she want?” His hand stops for a moment before continuing to stroke my hair.
“She…” I clear my throat, my mouth dry as sand. “She’s aligned herself with Zeru. She’s asked me to be their champion.”
The silence between us is so complete I can hear the rush of blood in my ears. Sterling’s hand falls away from my hair. His face, his expressive, beautiful face, drains of color. Anger, shock, and resentment twist his lips. Pain, confusion, and doubt pinch his eyes.
“The champion that you will fight against. To the death. Not the Guardian. They want me now.” The words spill out in a desperate rush.
The shock, which has carried me this far, starts to dissipate. I begin to tremble as I desperately try to hold him closer.
This can’t be real. I can’t believe I have to say this. I never even saw it coming.
He cradles my face, beseeching me with his eyes. Begging me to tell him that I’m lying, teasing him. Anything other than speaking the truth.
I wish I could.
But I’m not even capable of making up a lie as cruel as the gods’ proposal.
“Fuck.” He leans his forehead against mine, sucking in a sharp breath. “What happens if you refuse?”
I shake my head, a boulder-sized lump forming in my throat.
“Everything will be lost. The gods will lash out to punish me. You, me, the dragons. Ziva said the palace is delicate. It was a threat. She’ll kill everyone here.
Agnar, Rose, Bastian, Leesa, her baby.” My breath catches on that last part. Bile scalds my throat.
He goes completely still. “Baby?”
In the rush of today’s events, I forgot he didn’t know about my sister’s news. “She’s pregnant. She and Bastian are going to have a child. And Ziva is going to kill everyone I care about unless I agree to be their champion.”
The utter despair in his eyes mirrors my own. We’re trapped, cornered like animals with no escape.
The sudden urge to move sends me bolting from his lap. I pace, dragging my hands over my cheeks to dry the tears. “I don’t even know why they want me. You’re stronger. Faster. You’ve been training and fighting and wielding magic for years.”
My pacing leads me to the end of the room, right next to the fireplace. With disgust, I snuff out the flames keeping the space warm. Then I spin around.
Something changes in Sterling’s face. His grief vanishes in an instant. He rises so quickly, the chair tips over. The hollow expression disappears from his eyes, leaving them focused. Determined. Angry.
No, not angry. Enraged.
In mere seconds, I stand before him. His arms encircle me, and I lift my lips to meet his. Our kiss is fierce at first, a desperate crashing of mouths. A claiming.
His lips become slick with moisture.
I jerk back to stare at him.
Water beads on his face. Not sweat.
Armor. He’s subconsciously putting on his armor, the same way I wrap myself in fire.
Lifting my gaze from his mouth to his eyes, I see why. Not because he’s scared. No. Murderous determination glints in his eyes. He’s thought of something.
“Sterling?” I grab for him, but he’s already pivoting on his heel and marching toward the bedchamber. “Where are you going? What are you going to do?”
He doesn’t acknowledge or even seem to hear me.
Frantic to know his thoughts, I follow.
But his longer stride carries him faster, and he reaches the door to the patio just as I make it to the bedchamber. His wings unfurl, and he launches skyward, vanishing into the darkness.