Chapter 15
Syneca
When the hunter becomes the hunted, fate reveals which paths lead to survival and which lead to graves.
Ihadn’t slept. Not with Calder keeping guard just feet from Wickett—who’d promised to kill me in front of thousands of people.
And not with the Magistrate close by, who, from the sounds of it, wasn’t happy.
Certainly not with this fucking ribbon binding Wickett and me together throbbing all night like a heartbeat.
If its job was to unnerve the contestants, then its success was an understatement.
When I stepped out of the room in the morning, red curls a tangled mop on the top of my head, Calder was leaning against the wall.
He was eating an apple as he read the paper.
I had no idea where it’d come from, but when two little blue eyes flashed from the corner, I had a sneaking suspicion a grumpy griffin, who was supposed to be keeping a low profile, had something to do with it.
The Ripper’s door opened seconds later, and his glare was met with my middle finger. “I’m not in the mood for you today,” I said, walking toward the door. “I need a bathroom, a hot shower and a toothbrush.”
He opened his mouth, probably to say something dickish, but I threw a hand up. Apparently, I was choosing chaos today. “Just summon whatever people you need to give me permission to pee. You can kill me off later.”
“Sleep well, Rune Eater?” Wickett asked, not bothering to look toward Calder.
Calder didn’t say anything, but he shifted forward all the same.
To him, family was everything. If it hadn’t been abundantly clear before, there was no mistaking it now.
The charidryn had claimed me as family, complete with the protection his terrifying reputation provided.
Of course, he’d really claimed me for the rune making.
The family part was just an unfortunate side effect he tolerated with all the enthusiasm of a man who’d accidentally adopted a feral feline.
“Can we go?” I asked.
“Most people say good morning first,” Wickett answered, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Most people don’t wake up magically tethered to their executioner.”
“Fair point.” He stepped back into his room, then returned to the doorway, making the binding ribbon stretch taut between us. I felt the pull immediately—not painful, but insistent. “You seemed to sleep poorly. Nightmares?”
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
He tugged on the connection again, just slightly, watching my face as I was forced to take a step toward him. “Actually, no. Tired people make too many mistakes.”
I planted my feet and glared, ignoring his words. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?” Another small tug, and this time I had to grip the doorframe to keep from moving. His smile was all teeth. “I’m just testing the parameters of our... partnership.”
“How are you able to manipulate the tether?”
His eyes narrowed as they scanned me. “I’d tell you, but I’m not in the habit of arming adversaries. Shall we?”
Calder took a step toward me.
“Relax, Heartless One. I’m not going to hurt your precious witch.” He released the tension on the binding, and I nearly stumbled backward. “Yet.”
He pulled the door open with a genuine smile. It wasn’t locked. I hadn’t even tried it.
I shoved past him. “Five minutes. Then you can go back to being insufferable.”
“I’m not insufferable. I’m thorough.”
“Same thing.”
When I emerged from the bathroom, Calder handed me my green cloak and something wrapped in cloth. Bread and cheese, still warm. His eyes searched my face with the kind of careful attention that meant he was looking for cracks in my armor.
“I know you’re trying to help, but I’m not helpless, Cal.”
“I’ve known you for seven years, and I’ve never once thought you were helpless.
I know you’re smart, careful... well, mostly.
” He slid his hands into his pockets, scanning the halls before he leaned down to whisper.
“But you should have trusted me to do this. I’ll get her out of this.
Make them think she’s dead if I have to. ”
“I couldn’t stand the thought of going home alone. Losing you both in one day wasn’t an option. Doing anything but standing up didn’t feel right.”
He stepped close enough that the only things that existed in the hall were his broad shoulders and the concern on his face. “You’re not going to lose me. Get that out of your mind right now. And don’t trust the Ripper. Keep your guard up. No one is your friend in there.”
“It seems like you’re saying you don’t think I can beat Kat.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I know you can. It’s afterward I’m worried about. Now eat your food. Nothing good comes from an empty stomach.”
“Where did you—”
“I’m always resourceful when it comes to food,” he said with a genuine smile before his gaze flicked to Wickett, who had just rounded the corner.
Twin swords crossed his back, and his hair, though tied back, was still wet from his shower. He consumed as much of the hall as Calder, though his eyes burned through me until nothing else existed. I wondered if I’d ever get past the fear of his presence.
“Keep your head up,” Calder said to me. “No distractions.”
Wickett stepped closer. “Touching. But we need to move. The trial will begin whether you’re ready or not.”
Calder pivoted, not quite between us, but still making his position clear.
“Careful,” Wickett said mildly. “Wouldn’t want to cause our little red witch any unnecessary pain.”
“So scary,” I deadpanned, rolling my eyes before spinning away. “And just because I have red hair, doesn’t mean you can call me the most basic nickname for a ginger.”
Days ago I wouldn’t have had the audacity, but now I couldn’t afford to show weakness. He was curious, his attention divided, and I needed to keep that interest divided long enough to save Vitoria. And then, monsters on the outskirts or not, we needed to leave the city.
We walked through a tunnel that grew more and more crowded as we approached the arena, and the growing hum of the crowd.
Calder stayed close but silent, radiating protective fury that made other people step aside without quite knowing why.
Wickett matched pace beside me, occasionally making small adjustments that tested the binding’s range.
I was sure he’d figured it out by changing his own desires.
Whether he wanted me closer or didn’t. Fighting it tightened the bond, and he’d been mastering reverse psychology over the magic. Smart. Not that I’d ever tell him that.
The arena doors opened, and the crowd’s roar washed over us. A hedge maze sprawled across the center of the grass field, already shifting and growing as we watched. A living wall twenty feet tall, thorny vines, and poisonous flowers stretched into and along the passages.
“Furies fucking help me,” I breathed, tucking a curl behind my ear.
Wickett shot me a sharp look. “Problem, witch?”
“You could say that.” I stared at the maze that would become my grave. “Katarina’s an earth witch. She can control every plant in there. This entire maze is her weapon.”
“Noted,” he said with the kind of dismissal that made me want to drown him. “The hedges will respond to strong emotion. Fear, anger, desperation, the plants feed on it.”
“And you’re telling me this why?”
“Because you’re angry. Constantly. And anger makes everything in there more... dangerous.”
I stopped walking, which forced him to stop too.
Behind us, Calder’s footsteps also halted.
“I’m angry because I was born wrong in their eyes, and no amount of good deeds will ever change that.
I’m angry because they’re making me choose between my life and Katarina’s.
I’m angry because the whole world runs on the blood of witches.
I’m angry because this society is fucking sick. That anger isn’t going away.”
“Then learn to use it.” His gray eyes held mine with something that wasn’t quite sympathy. “You signed up for this. No one made you. So, channel it instead of letting it control you.”
“Like you do?”
“I don’t get angry.”
“Liar.”
“Careful.” He warned, grabbing my hand to look at my palm. “On this day alone, I’ve allowed you to push more boundaries than anyone before you.”
Wickett’s fingers trailed down the raised skin where his mark sat. “Don’t mistake my curiosity for patience.”
I snorted, ripping my hand from his grip. “I don’t mistake you at all, hunter.”
Thousands of faces stared down on us from every tiered level of the arena.
In the lower tiers, I caught glimpses of fine wool cloaks and scarves in a rainbow of colors.
The wealthy had claimed the best views, of course, their jewelry catching what little sunlight broke through the overcast sky.
Higher up, the crowds wore rougher fabrics, but their voices carried louder, hungrier.
They were missing their precious Nexus games, and they wanted a show.
Nothing said “civilized society” quite like thousands of people gathering to watch someone get torn apart by sentient shrubbery.
At least with Nexus, the players trained for it.
Lived for it. But this? This was just blood sport with extra steps and a moral justification so thin you could see right through it.
The real tragedy wasn’t that they wanted violence; it was that they’d dressed it up as justice and convinced themselves they were the good ones for watching.
And then they bought commemorative pins on their way out.