Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
RAE
In the thundering silence that follows, the telchin just… goes still. He gives no reply. No counter-reaction. He doesn’t call forth the power that telchins are said to possess, the power to see the threads of fate and manipulate them, control outcomes.
Unless this is the thread he’s holding in his grip, this is the outcome he wants.
Telchins to control the gates and play with fate, Eosphors to open gates and affect events in all the worlds, and dragons born in the old times of dead souls, crossing those thresholds.
The spike of pain inside my head breaks my thoughts. I rub my temples. There is so much I know, so much I shouldn’t know… so much I’ve learned and forgotten and… I feel a cold touch on my back.
Turning around, though, I see nobody behind me, except…
Looking up, I find the king standing on his balcony near the top of the Sea Palace, his long royal robes fluttering, his pale hair like a banner, the tall crown blinding on his head.
It’s his cold gaze on me that I feel, and the mark on my hand throbs.
A tug in the other direction, and my attention shifts back to Jai. He’s watching me, too, opposing heat to the king’s chill, his dark eyes blazing.
Is that Jai or Phaethon looking out of them?
He lifts a hand to his face and wipes at the blood there, leaving a long smear on his cheek. The faint knot in his throat moves as he swallows and turns his scorching glare on the king.
And I’m still staring at him. Gods! My hands ball into fists.
I should be focusing on the trial, not these two infuriating men whose morals tend to gray—Jai who works for the fae against his own kind, alternating between protective and brutal, torn between himself and Phaethon, and the king who lets his fae pillage, rape, and kill without discrimination, now determined to take them back to their home world and save them, and who is the young man I once loved.
What’s the solution?
It doesn’t take a genius. Keep as far away from both of them as you can. Focus on your goal.
Which is to survive the day.
“Rejoice,” the telchin says, turning toward us, his deep voice oddly dissonant in the strained silence, clashing with the voice inside my head.
“We are in the middle of the journey. The trials follow the king’s journey into this world, from the earth into the sky and air, the second element.
You are expected to battle it, work with it, conquer it, and find your way back to the palace by nightfall or perish in the process. ”
Slowly, by increments, his words sink in. This is becoming real. The second trial is about to begin, and I have no idea what it will involve. Saying it has to do with air means nothing. What are those towers in the arena? How will the air element play into the game?
“Board the barge,” he commands, and the guards standing behind him turn. A plankway is lowered, connecting the barge to the terrace. “It is time to begin!”
Oh, the great joy.
The humans murmur among themselves, nobody making a move toward the barge. Who in their right mind would walk to their own death?
But of course, Jai starts toward the boat, because he’s crazy.
“Don’t forget that I’m not the one throwing myself recklessly at danger. That would be him.”
Jai tends to throw himself at danger. I saw it when on that barge in the river, when he rode his drak into the whirlpool to save us all. And later, when he entered the games for me.
Why does this have to be so complicated?
I follow him, my feet moving before my rational mind catches on. But after all, what other option is there? More guards close in around us, spears lowered. They use them to herd us toward the barge, pushing and prodding those of us who resist.
Staying here isn’t an option. This conscription isn’t voluntary. It never was. The few days we spent at the Sea Palace got us to relax, made some of us feel as if we have choices, perhaps.
An illusion.
“Stop poking me. I’m going!” I hear a familiar voice, and see Amaryll glowering at one of the guards as she marches toward the barge. “See? We’re all going. As if we can avoid it. Assholes.”
I choke down a laugh, and it feels like broken glass in my throat.
She’s fierce and funny, and I don’t want her to die. I don’t want Mera or Axwick to die, either. I want to stop the killing.
I want to keep Jai safe.
Sigh.
Again, I’ve let myself grow attached to other people. When did that happen? When will I learn my lesson?
Jai has reached the plankway, but now he pauses and glances over a broad shoulder, his gaze finding me unerringly, sending another bolt of heat through me. “Coming, makhair?”
That nickname… I itch to find out what it means, but when he reaches a hand out to me, I refuse to take it.
I walk past him and he watches as I climb onto the plank. His hand is still outstretched. “We have to talk, you and I.”
“No,” I say, “right now we don’t.”
He gives a nod. “After the trial.”
“Move along! Skies and stones, you two really think you’ll make it out of here alive?” one of the guards scoffs. “Mighty sure of yourselves, are you?”
“That’s Athdara, you idiot,” the other guard hisses.
“But she’s not.”
Good point. And having my voice and gills back doesn’t guarantee my survival.
Still ignoring Jai’s hand, I step onto the deck, then turn and nod at him.
His dark brows bunch together, eyes narrowing. The blood on his black shirt draws my eye, a darker stain, then the rusty streak mingling with the black swirls on his left cheekbone where he’d wiped his hand.
And a smile tugs on his lips, stretching into a grin. It’s so pure and boyish, that dimple making an appearance, that it snags my eyes, my feelings. “Stubborn,” he says, his voice a low purr, his hand clenching into a fist. “Just promise to let me help you during the trial.”
I make no such promise, though I know I’ll probably need all the help I can get. I need to survive if I’m going to return to the palace and…
And what? You’ll kill the boy you once loved, stab him through the heart?
I shiver. No, I’ll ask for answers first. Then I’ll stab him through the heart.
Yeah, the voice in my head is glib, sounds plausible… not. You won’t find it in you to go through with it.
Watch me.
Complicate your life more, why don’t you.
The deck sways under my feet as Jai follows me into the barge, the rest of the contestants trooping after him, joining us onboard.
One by one, they step onto the black barge, the death barge, their faces bleak, their eyes hard, and for the first time in a long while I’m proud.
Proud to have been one of them, once upon a time. To have been human.
We’re a tough sort. Not so hard to kill, but harder to erase and keep in the ground.
The guards prod the last two people still on the terrace, and we’re finally all rounded up and accounted for.
Ready for the slaughter.
A wind blows over the sea, rocking me on my feet. The barge sways harder, sending me stumbling to the side and churning my stomach. In the distance, in the water, I make out the frilled crest of a sea dragon and hear his call.
Without my magic and dagger I feel naked, even in this white dress I was given to wear. It’s shorter than the spidersilk dress I favored during my stay at the palace, and sturdier. The shoes will have to go, though, the moment I hit the water. They bother me already.
The telchin steps on the barge, followed by four of the guards. More guards are already onboard, ready to stop anyone from jumping off.
Who in their right mind would jump off and into the spright-filled sea, rushing to meet their fate? Though you never know. Panic can cause people to do strange things.
The sailors untie the ropes and push the barge off the dock, away from the low terrace, and the oars dip into the water.
The banners snap in the wind. The people around me crouch down as we slowly depart from the dock and sail under the bridge and past the small Temple Island.
We set route to circle the arena which is marked by islets and walls built between them.
For each death game, the contestants are thrown into the arena, a sea pool manipulated by the fae, either manually or through magic, to a controlled effect. It’s just as lethal as the open sea, filled with seafolk and sea monsters.
I heard that each trial should be more difficult than the previous, and I fail to see why that is necessary.
From the twenty-four sacrificial victims, only ten of us are left, and who wants to bet that not all of us will make it to the third trial?
Don’t you need at least a couple of humans for the third trial? It stands to reason, right?
Unless you kill the king.
Unless you kill love.
Might as well stab myself through the heart and be done with it.
How do you kill the one boy, the one man you ever gave your heart to? The one who held your hands and understood your worries and fears, who showed you wonders you had never noticed before, who kissed you and then you knew, you knew he was the one to share your soul?
Who told you that you’re beautiful, inside and out.
Who told you he would never love another, never want to look for another.
The one who was gone before you knew it, taking your heart with him to the grave?
What if he’s a cruel king of the fae? What if he was a fae all along? He’s still that boy.
In your heart, he’s still the one you love. Right?
Dangerous questions. Dangerous doubts.
The oarsmen on their benches bow over the oars. They row and row, sending the barge slicing the waves, sailing around the temple island with its central tower.
As we start circling the arena, I know this is the worst time for this sort of distraction, this sort of wavering.
I’m keenly aware of Jai stepping closer to me as I stare out, standing on the prow, the other people’s whispers and grunting replies forming a fuzzy background noise.
“Searching for something?” he asks, and that burr in his voice, that resonant quality, lets me know I’m not dealing with him in person, but that Phaethon has taken over again. “Your last scraps of hope, perhaps?”
That’s concerning, aside from all other doubts. This wrestling match between his two souls is happening too often, and Phaethon seems to have the upper hand.
“Hello, Phaethon.” I don’t turn to look at him on purpose. “Are you always this nasty in the morning or did you sleep badly last night?”
“Last night,” he growls, “I slept with the dead. Are you ready to die, Little Human?”
“Screw you, Phaethon,” I mutter, and glance at him just in time to see his dark eyes widen. His hands jerk, and more blood drips from his nose as they clench.
Then he turns his back to me, broad shoulders stiff.
Did I catch the great and mighty Eosphor by surprise? Not used to people dismissing him, is he? Or even answering back.
Well, he’s in for a treat. He’d better get used to it. I used to be meek. I used to be scared. I was a mere human, back then, too young and innocent to live.
Since then I’ve been through grief and death, and I’ll be damned before I let an arrogant male—of any race—order me around, talk down to me and think he can walk all over me.
I remember how respectful Mars had been. How gentle, but also glad to let me be myself, have my own plans and dreams, create my own future. He only wanted to be a part of it. To be by my side.
It was one of the reasons why I fell for him.
That, and I admit I’m partial to male beauty. How could I resist? He was tempting, stunning. Glorious.
“Beware of beauty.”
Jai turns toward me once more, his mouth tight.
I take in his tall, muscular build and those shoulders you could rest the palace on, the tousled black hair and the chiseled jaw, the high cheekbones marked with those dark symbols, the dark, long-fringed eyes, the full lips, currently tilting into a cold smirk, and think… Well, too late to save myself now.