Chapter 5
Chapter Five
HORNHALL
A rcher watched her sashay across the arena, as confident as she had been last night moving across the grand ballroom; a looseness to her limbs, her head canted at a jaunty angle, a whisper of a smile on her lips, a glass of red wine dangling from her fingertips.
Now it was blood that dripped from those dainty fingers.
She smiled up at the cheering crowd and stalked toward her final opponent. The fae already had an arrow through her kneecap, and another embedded in her shoulder.
“Where did you say she was from again?” Drake, his second in command, asked.
Archer didn’t need to look at the male to know he was enjoying the show as much as the other spectators. “Kellimont,” he replied, not daring to take his eyes off the vampire–somehow turned skin-shifter–in the middle of the ring.
Four lay dead around her. A fifth was about to be.
He could feel Drake’s gaze slide to him, but he didn’t dare voice the skepticism. The completely warranted skepticism. No one had ever heard of the stunning blonde from Kellimont before last week. She had stepped into the tourney ring, quickly killing her way to the top of the leader board.
The lie had been believable. At first . Archer had stumbled upon the lesser fae in the fighting pits of the city’s underbelly. The female had been making just enough coin in the rings to keep her head on a tavern cot at night and a loaf of bread and a mug of ale in her stomach.
But now, with every contest she won… The ways in which she won them…
It was becoming increasingly difficult to pass her off as simply ‘raw talent’ .
Archer folded his arms when she nocked her last arrow. He prayed she would aim a little to the left or the right. Make it appear, at the very least, like this wasn’t a walk in the park for her.
She didn’t.
Her opponent hit the dirt, the arrow perfectly drilled between her eyes. The arena erupted. More suspicious gazes slid toward Archer.
He cursed under his breath. They’d gone over this. She had promised.
Archer turned toward the tunnel where she would be escorted out. He was going to kill her. Kill her and be done with this stupid pact.
“Pact, indeed,” he grumbled under his breath, taking a right, and then another right.
What good would it serve either of them if their ruse was discovered? He should have known better than to have brokered a deal with the devil. Literally . When Archer rounded a corner, he came face to face with the source of his annoyance. Wiping sweat, he knew wasn’t there, from her brow.
She saw him and smiled, then handed her towel to the simpering attendant. “Hello Commander,” she purred. “Did you enjoy the show?”
He bit his tongue, dismissed the boy with a nod, and waited. Waited until the youth’s footfall was a faint echo down the long corridor. Waited until he could speak without roaring.
She tilted her head and grinned up at him, her luminous gold eyes animal-like in the dim torchlight. “I did tell you to go all-in on the betting,” she said sweetly.
“We had a deal,” he growled.
“Our deal”–she turned on her heel and strode down the hall, forcing him to follow– “Was for me to get what I want. And for you to get what you want when I win.”
“Neither of which can be achieved if others figure out who you are.”
“And they shan’t. Not until I claim my prize.”
He matched her stride. “This is not Gerra. I don’t know what sort of training you allow your common folk there. But here, in Ventus, they can’t wield a sword like a trained knight or shoot an arrow like a godsdamned sniper. And they certainly don’t know how to dance the fucking quickstep!”
Her smile grew. “You were watching.”
“The whole blasted court was watching. Which is exactly what they shouldn’t be doing. Not yet.”
“Should I refuse an earl when he requests a dance?”
“You should refuse an earl on the account that you don’t know the dance.”
“I tried to explain that.” She shrugged. “He told me he was a good teacher. So I let him teach me.”
“Nobody is that quick a study, Katarra.”
She stopped so suddenly he didn’t register it until he was three paces ahead of her. “Careful, Commander.” Archer pivoted to face her. “Someone might think you’re losing your wits,” she warned. “For there is no one here by that name.”
Indeed, there wasn’t. Not to the naked eye anyway.
The fae before him now looked nothing like the brunette elite he had met a little over a month ago. Except for the eyes. The eyes were exactly the same; cat-shaped, large, molten gold, fearless .
Talon was the chosen name of the female in front of him. She was smaller than most fae, but taller than the petite vampire he’d met in that hovel. Katarra had even crafted the ears to be an exact replica. How? She wasn’t even sure.
Or so she claimed.
Somehow, beyond any reasoning he could find, she’d developed the ability to skin-shift when she entered Ventus. Archer had traced her bloodline more than once and couldn’t piece it together. There had to be a gap in the genealogy somewhere. A gap so hidden, it had to be purposeful.
Of course, he’d never met anyone tied to a literal deity either. So there was that, too. If the gods saw fit to guide individuals throughout multiple lives, they could probably hide a few DNA contributors.
“ Talon… ” he said through clenched teeth. “Perhaps you could find it in your prideful soul to miss a step on occasion.”
“Why, Commander,” Katarra said, stepping closer and lowering her voice conspiratorially, “Are you impressed?” She grinned. “Or just jealous?”
Archer leaned in, so close they could share a breath. “I just want you to win this damn tourney, ask for your army, and make me emissary to your shithole realm so I can keep my title. None of which will be possible if you keep tipping your hand.”
“Fear not. The competition is only in the first round. Surely there is at least one High-fae in the upper brackets that can give me a run for my money.” She started back down the hall. “Though I will hate not being able to kill them. You should see about amending that rule. It’s really not fair.”
Katarra… Talon …looked over her shoulder at him, a twinkle in her eyes. “Everyone deserves the right to die.”