CHAPTER ELEVEN
Preston grasped my upper arm so tightly that it throbbed as we swept from the invitingly warm room, away from the piercing stares of countless fae. A winged woman bared her fangs at me as I walked past, reminding me of the man who’d tried to kill me not too long ago. I wondered if she was his family, and if she blamed me for his death.
She would just be one more enemy on my increasingly large list of those who wanted to use or murder me.
As King Preston led me through a door I hadn’t noticed, hidden in a shadowy alcove, and dragged me down a winding set of stone steps, I finally found my words. “I never claimed to be a Silverfrost,” I protested, my words echoing off the windowless walls. Torches flickered around us, their orange light dancing in Preston’s bloody eyes.
Pausing on the steps, the king turned to face me. His grin was slow, malicious. “And yet, the people believe you did. We must honor our tradition and test your strength to see if the claim is true. We couldn’t let someone with royal blood go unrecognized.”
“But fae cannot lie.”
“All it takes is a bit of clever phrasing to avoid an outright lie.” Preston turned, yanking me further down the staircase. “When one is immortal, one has infinite time to expand one’s wisdom and excel at deceit.”
Desperation clawed through me, cold and hard like the ice I’d wielded. As intense as the avalanche I’d unleashed. But now, when I hoped for my magic to respond to my despair and terror, there was nothing. It was lost to me, even though I was outside of my room. Had the royal siblings used spells elsewhere within the castle, created with my blood? “What do you plan to do with me?”
“You’ll fight in the arena to show off your strength of body, mind, and magic. Surely a Silverfrost on her own land in the height of winter would be most connected to her power now.” He arched an eyebrow at me, his sidelong glance wicked. He knew I couldn’t access my magic. He and his sister had planned this moment, all to send me to my execution in a very public display.
My stomach churned as we paused before a dark corridor where even the torchlight lining its walls seemed to barely touch the blackness writhing through the air. I caught a whiff of earth and blood and filth, like the passage dove deep into the bowels of the earth where unspeakable things took place. As if to punctuate my thought, a distant shriek split the air, echoing deep below us.
Gooseflesh rose on my arms.
“The dungeons,” Preston said. “But that is not your fate, not today.” He steered me away, toward a barred metal door flanked by two bored-looking guards.
“Your Majesty,” one said, while each dipped low in respect.
The female guard on my left, with skin so pale it was nearly translucent and eyes and hair the shade of snow, stepped forward, eyeing me with disinterest.
Preston shoved me at her. “No weapons,” he proclaimed.
The woman nodded, and Preston spun on his heel, disappearing the way he’d come.
“This isn’t right,” I pled. “I made no claim—”
Preston paused before the staircase, his eyes locking on mine. An unspoken threat lurked in his gaze. “Humans can be such liars, I’m afraid. She’s learned the error of her bold claims too late, and now she is terrified. Don’t listen to the way she begs.”
Dipping her head in acknowledgement, the woman smiled slowly. “I wouldn’t dream of doing so, Your Majesty,” she said, her tone low and predatory. “She will make this fight entertaining for us, I hope.”
As Preston’s footsteps retreated, the male guard lumbered toward me. Based on his grey skin, bulky build, and overlarge features, I guessed he was an ogre or troll of some kind. “Little weakling, will you walk on your own with what dignity you have left?” he demanded, his voice rumbling so deeply I could feel it reverberate in my chest. “Or will you give us the thrill of the chase and force us to catch and drag you in?”
My knees trembled and my head spun, turning so light I wondered if the effects of the medicine Garrick had given me had worn off...or if I was that terrified. Numbly, I met the ogre’s eyes, taking in his leering expression, and set my jaw. “I will walk.”
Both guards launched forward, shoving the creaking metal door inward and then pinning me with twin glares. Somehow, I staggered toward the entryway, blinking at the way the firelight from the balconied floor above painted the stone arena floor in bloody hues.
This is what you do? Stumble meekly to your death without protest? Rage flared in my heart, a swirling storm that wouldn’t be unleashed. It was trapped inside me, just like all my frustrated words of protest had always been back in Altidvale. Each unkind word. Each piece of gossip. I’d sat by and swallowed my pain and anger down, burying it beneath my calm exterior, pretending all was fine. If I’d made a scene, if I’d lost my temper, I would have only proven their fears right. They’d seen me as dangerous and unlike them.
How true they’d ended up being.
But now? Now I was among monsters who’d rendered me powerless.
I walked and pretended I had a shred of dignity to care about, praying all the while to the distant gods that there was a way out of this.
Or maybe this was my path to freedom. Maybe my only chance in the cruel world of Brytwilde was to give in to death. At least this way, I wouldn’t be enslaved or tormented. I would be able to see my mother and stepfather again in the afterlife.
Tears blurred my vision, but I blinked them away. If death was to be my fate, I could accept it.
But I wouldn’t face it without trying to fight, even if I didn’t have the faintest idea how to defend myself in an arena.
I curled my fingers into fists at my sides as I stepped out into the empty arena. Curved walls, smooth and plain, encircled every side...except for the one opposite me, which bore a heavy metal door matching the one I’d walked through. When I peered upward, I found the countless fae above gawking at me from their comfortable chairs, which they’d pulled away from the tables to move closer to the railing. Some jeered or taunted, clearly eager to see me die. Others were quieter, more contemplative. Maybe they thought there was some truth to my alleged claim of being a Silverfrost.
My eyes skimmed over King Preston and Queen Nerissa, with their soulless eyes boring into me, and snagged on Garrick. I didn’t want to seek him out in the crowd, didn’t want my heart to skip when I saw him. But I found him anyway, and my heart jolted in spite of myself. His gaze was steady on mine, that expressionless mask concealing whatever he was thinking or feeling.
Please, I thought, begging him to understand me, to read my desperate expression. You defended me before. Show me I’m more than prey you were ordered to fetch. Show me you truly do care. That the man I thought I knew wasn’t a lie...
He remained silent, motionless. Nothing more than another observer to the entertainment the royal siblings had prepared. The storm within roared ever louder, full of aching pain that provided a sharper edge to my anger and fear. I tried again to draw on the magic in my veins, but it felt trapped—contained inside my body. Something was wrong, and I was going to die because of it.
Behind me, the door slammed shut, making me jump.
“Good citizens of Silverfrost,” Queen Nerissa began, standing and strolling toward the edge. She leaned over, her dark hair cascading over one shoulder as she peered at me, her lips curling in a chilling smile. “I do hope you enjoy the test we have prepared for our honored guest. As you know, anyone who claims Silverfrost blood must prove their worthiness. You have heard the rumors about this mere mortal’s powerful magic.”
As Queen Nerissa droned on about their revered traits of strength and ability and power, how I’d have to face my opponents as I was—weaponless, with only the magic I bore—I tried to steady my breathing and focus. Garrick couldn’t be trusted, but as a fae, he also couldn’t outright lie. And he’d told me my magic would be easier to access on this land. That it would be a natural extension of my thoughts and emotions. Maybe the royals had interfered with my magic, but it still lived in me, did it not? Surely, with enough effort, I could access it.
When I’d caused the avalanche, I’d feared for my life and Garrick’s. I hadn’t been able to control and hold back the power. When the winged fae man had attacked me, the ice I’d locked him within had come almost effortlessly.
Yet nothing was coming to me now, when I was awaiting death to pour forth from the opposite door and murder me in a spectacle before all these onlookers.
A tremble started in my fingers, rippling through my body. Did the siblings actually think I was a Silverfrost, and that was why they’d used forget-me-nots on me? Had my father been a royal fae? Were they trying to protect their power, their places on the throne, by murdering me this way?
Did they truly see me as a threat to their throne?
My mind whirled with the questions, but I didn’t have time to consider them. The door across from me swung inward, and not one but several opponents launched into the arena. I tensed, a fierce desire to live spiking in my chest. Even if I wasn’t sure what I was holding onto.
If I survived, what new torments would these siblings invent for me?
Swallowing my fear, I held my ground, refusing to allow the jeering crowd to see me retreat. There was nowhere to flee, anyway.
“A human thinking she’s a Silverfrost? The gall!” someone spat, so loudly I could hear past the screams and shouts piercing the air.
I tried to block it all out, tried to ignore the chant growing as more and more fae cried: Kill the mortal!
But my stomach dropped when I paused, allowing myself to study my opponents, who’d scattered and spread out throughout the arena, apparently hoping to hem me in.
They were all human. Every single one of them stared ahead with glazed eyes, not really seeing this arena or me. Not truly aware of what they were even doing.
My mouth dried. I couldn’t kill glamoured humans, not even if they were being forced to attack and murder me. Even if I found a way to fight back without magic, how could I spill their blood to save myself? I’d be a murderer. They were innocent.
They were...
They were armed with weapons, each one of them bearing a glinting sword or pair of daggers. One man lifted a heavy axe with both arms.
“Come here, little girl,” the man with the axe taunted, and I had the chilling impression that his lips were moving, but someone else was speaking.
I gritted my teeth, studying the four humans who were stalking closer, each staring through me with empty expressions. Though they were slaves to the royal siblings and probably ill-treated, they weren’t malnourished or weak. Perhaps they were trained and used as regular entertainment in fights like these, for both men and even the two women were toned and muscled, moving with graceful steps.
My head felt light. Women didn’t fight in Altidvale. It was unheard of. And in proper society, men didn’t hurl punches at one another or engage in bloodthirsty fights with onlookers. Only when one gentleman challenged another to a duel. I didn’t even know how to incapacitate these armed men and women, let alone kill them.
And this was a fight to the death. If they didn’t die, I would.
Footsteps pounded closer as I pled for my magic to manifest. Come on, I thought. You run through my blood. You are a part of me. Defend me now.
I drew on my fear, imagining ice crackling from my fingertips and coating the arena floor.
Sweat dripped down my spine as the axe-wielding man stepped forward, grinning. The other three fell back, allowing him his moment to attack. He leered closer, and I stumbled away, head spinning.
Overhead, the fae were laughing, the roar of their cheers and mocking cries so loud I couldn’t hear my own breath anymore. Couldn’t hear my own pulse. I could only sense it throbbing in my throat and in my head.
The man swung, a flash of blood-red steel in the torchlight.
I swallowed my scream and threw myself to the floor, my knees and palms stinging when they slammed against stone.
Snarling, the man stepped nearer, giving me just enough time to realize the foolishness of my action. Now I was on my hands and knees, an easy target without a simple route of escape. Towering over me, the man surprised me when he didn’t swing his weapon again.
Instead, he aimed a kick at my side. My cry of pain was lost as all the air left my body. I choked and collapsed, my torso throbbing and my chest terrifyingly empty. Spots flickered in my vision while the man laughed, dropping the axe with a clang. I couldn’t move swiftly enough—he seized me in both hands, continuing to laugh. I gaped at his face, which remained expressionless even as that awful, mocking chuckle rumbled through his chest. His eyes were empty as they met mine. This wasn’t him killing me, but the fae controlling his movements, his choices, even his words.
Air rushed into my lungs, providing a moment of blessed relief, and I thrashed in the man’s iron grip, but it was too late. He hurled me across the arena with unnatural strength. I heard the crack of bone as I landed hard, pain ripping through me. Nausea danced along my tongue as I skidded along the smooth floor.
Ice. Snow. Rip this world apart, I begged. Nothing but a moan escaped my lips. Spikes of hot agony flared everywhere, and darkness swam before my eyes. Blood trickled from my nose and into my mouth, filling it with the taste of copper and my rising bile. I couldn’t hear anything but the screams of the crowd now.
I was barely aware when the humans encircled me, weapons raised.
My terror peaked, shredding through me with a helpless certainty. This was the end, and I’d meet it because my brother hated and feared me and left me to die at the hands of these monsters. I’d taste death while these heartless fae looked on, laughing and applauding like this was nothing more than a play at the theater. I’d be murdered in front of Garrick, the man who’d once protected me, but now couldn’t even bother to move from his position beside Queen Nerissa.
Pain flooded me, and somehow, even amidst the blackness flooding my vision, even with my opponents towering over me, my eyes found Garrick in the crowd and locked on him. He leaned forward, his white-blond hair bright in the darkness enveloping my world. His jaw feathered, and for an instant, I thought maybe his gold eyes flashed with emotion. It had to be a trick of the flickering light, because his face remained chiseled as if from stone.
The man with the axe stepped nearer and swung.
I screamed.
In fear.
In agony.
In defeat.
In fury.
The air crackled and something cold and solid filled my hand. The man cried out, his gaping mouth revealing blood coating his teeth and dribbling down his chin. I blinked at the shard of ice clutched in my hand, honed perfectly into a sharp blade. He’d launched himself onto its tip as he’d lunged to deal a killing blow. The ice pierced him clean through—a fatal strike to his chest.
Blinking, his glazed blue eyes cleared, finding mine. There was shock and sorrow there as his arms fell and his fingers went limp. He dropped the axe with a clatter. For one awful, endless moment, we stared at one another. The pain and betrayal and confusion in his bright eyes nearly undid me.
Then he slumped forward, dead at my hands.
A wave of dizziness and darkness swept over me as more agony flashed through me, reminding me of my injuries. I was going to lose consciousness. I’d murdered an innocent man, and it still wouldn’t be enough.
The trio of remaining humans stepped closer amidst screams and boos from the fae crowd. I struggled to sit up, to move at all, but my body refused to obey me. Weakness and pain flooded me in equal measures, and my grip on my ice blade slackened. It and the man pierced upon it both fell to the floor, useless.
My ears rang as the world slipped away from me. I was proving my mortal weakness to my hateful onlookers, and the glamoured humans were going to murder me while I was helpless. Mother? Father? Are you waiting for me? I wondered.
As I faded, I thought I heard a shout, louder and deeper than any of the others echoing through the arena. “Enough!” Snarling and screams filled my ears. Something white tore across my vision, something that made the floor shudder with its pounding footsteps and rumbling growls. But I couldn’t tell what was happening as everything went dark and still.