Chapter 10
The rules were simple. Five minutes to find a dagger and hide. No strikes until the second horn blew. Only one-on-one fights. Don’t interfere. Don’t get killed.
With her heart thumping deep into her ears, Scarlen stood in line, waiting for Mr Kane to give the order to run into the evergreens, the only shelter, a sanctuary in yet another prison, one of twenty-foot fences filled with lightning going towards the deep-blue sky and low beneath the soil and shrubs.
There was no escape, and no way back into the building. Not until someone died.
‘Claiming ain’t for gaming,’ taunted Varklee, but Scarlen daren’t look his way. She already knew she was fair game. Perhaps even the Rebel himself would turn on her.
Kane went over the rules once more as he edged towards the cross-barred door, but Scarlen had her concentration firmly on the woodland.
Who was to say how big it was that side of the island, and where would be the best place to conceal herself from the enemy?
Not near the pond, that was for sure. At least the darkness was on her side, that and the fact there was a Pirate and a Flame. Surely that would give her a chance.
Against her better instincts, she stole a glance at Bear.
His face set to neutral, eyes forward, feet in position to run.
Good idea. She steadied herself while wondering if they would be told to go back inside any moment.
It was wishful thinking. War Zone existed, and her father was going to make her take part in the twisted game.
The thought of him watching sickened her to the core.
The memory of her father leaving her in one of the sandy forests when she was ten years old hit hard.
He did it again when she was twelve, then fourteen.
Alone, afraid, no food, no water, and made to find her way home.
Had he been training her for this moment?
Had he always planned to place her on Horstal Island?
The first horn blew, startling her from her nightmare. She hadn’t even heard Kane leave, and the inmates had a two-second head start, thanks to her memory haunting her, perhaps trying to save her.
The damp earth kicked up as she sprinted into the tall trees, and some rustling and cursing was all around, as a scramble for weapons was priority. Where would the daggers be? Stabbed into trunks, buried under the slosh of wet leaves, the bottom of the pond?
Scarlen ran on and on, scouting the dense area that darkened further in, footsteps were heading further away, and voices became muffled the longer she was out there, sweat and fear already taking her body hostage, but she couldn’t stop until the only sound was her breath.
If being stranded in a sandy forest as a child had taught her anything, it was how important energy was in the wild.
There was only so far she could run in the forest anyway, and now away from immediate threat, she could slow, shift some foliage, and absorb her surroundings.
Ten blades. One allowed. But there was no telling if someone found another dagger, they wouldn’t toss it in the pond or hide it somewhere else.
There was nothing to see, not in the thick of it, so she climbed the nearest tree, reaching high to the thinner branches, knowing they could hold her small frame, hoping the creaks and cracks wouldn’t be noticeable.
Adjusting to the uncomfortable seat, Scarlen looked around, spotting the tips of the security fence in the near distance as the beacon from one of the towers stroked over the metal on passing, then something else shimmering of metal caught her eye.
There in the next tree was a dagger, sticking out of a groove where the branches thinned to twigs. The trees were quite close, so if she shuffled carefully, she could climb over and settle, knowing she had some protection.
Her sweatshirt caught on the sharp limbs of her hideout more than once, taking tiny bites each time, and her cheeks were scratched and sore as she balanced along a thicker arm leading into a cluster of dark leaves and more bristly branches.
The slightest scent of butterscotch filled her nostrils as she tugged the blade from the bark, closing her eyes for all but a moment to rejoice in relief.
She wasn’t about to be hunted down. Not now.
She knew how to use such a weapon, and she knew how to survive in woodland, for a few days.
The second horn blew, the sound of a ship in the fog, but thick mist wasn’t her danger. The War Zone had started, and she was both predator and prey, whether she liked it or not.
Jamming herself into a nook to prevent slipping, Scarlen couldn’t help but drift back to how it had taken three days to find the palace when she was twelve.
Her father must have taken her deeper into the forest that time, as before it had only taken two days.
Two days without water. The heat in the south unbearable during the day at times.
And the green trees only helped cool the shade a little.
Without moving her head, she glanced around. Had her father been able to watch her back then? Was he watching through the witch’s eye now? Did he want his powerful friends to see how strong his family was?
Milon.
So much about her brother had changed. Once fun and cheerful, now distant and cold.
She hardly knew him on the rare occasions she got to see him.
She had always put his altered personality down to their mother and little sister drowning.
But with more thought, it seemed likely Horstal also played a role in taking his soul. Well, it wasn’t going to take hers.
Scarlen mentally laid out all the information stored.
Ten inmates, one was Bear, one a male Pirate, two young lads from Green Block One, and one girl and boy from Amber Block One, all looked so young and scared enough to just hide.
Two women from Amber Block Two, then the unhinged one, Varklee, who she thought should be in Red.
He seemed the most likely murderer out of the group, which was saying something considering they had a Rebel among them, and they had such a bad reputation.
Wynter came to mind. She was so nice, and nothing like the horrible things Scarlen had been told by her people.
And then there was Bear. Complicated, unreadable, both danger and calm in his gaze, depending on which way he was looking.
She knew of no other to have that ability. No other to confuse her so.
A shiver ran down her spine as an icy breeze rippled through the treetops.
It was going to be a long night, and it would have been a lot better if she could remain hidden until daybreak when it would be easier to see, but with only one hour of stillness allowed at a time, she would make the most of her hideout.
With any luck, the final horn would blow soon, and they could all sleep in their cells.
But if the inmates were as smart as her, they too would wait for better light.
No doubt at the pond, when thirst would have them visit at some point.
A sigh from the ground had her hold her breath as she peered down through leaves.
‘You know, up that high, your hair glimmers when the beacon turns.’
It was Bear.
‘Come down to the middle, and I’ll climb up,’ he added, and Scarlen clutched her dagger, unsure of his motives.
As though reading her mind, he said, ‘If I wanted to hurt you, I’d have done it already.’
It was true. He’d had plenty of opportunity.
‘Okay.’ She shuffled lower to rest upon a thick branch, his body coming to settle behind her. ‘Did you find a weapon?’ was all that was on her mind as his arms curled around her to pull her into his warmth, which was appreciated at once, as it was absolutely freezing.
‘No. You?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s good. Keep it on your lap. Easy access.’
She glanced at her clenched fist around the black hilt. ‘You should be out there looking for one.’
‘I’m okay.’ His arms tightened around her as she shivered. ‘How many sweatshirts you got on?’
‘I only have one. I plan on saving up to buy another from the tuck shop, as it’s so cold here.’
Bear leaned forward, taking her with him, as he shrugged out of his top sweatshirt. ‘Here, put this on.’
Peering over her shoulder, she could see he wore another. ‘You came prepared.’
‘Not my first appearance.’ He flashed a roguish grin, but she knew that smile didn’t mean happiness lurked. Not much lurked except the bitter chill and the nearness of death.
‘You’ll freeze now.’
His nose scrunched a little. ‘Nah, I’m hot-blooded. It’ll help you more. Go on, put it on.’
‘Thank you.’ Scarlen was quick to remove her sweatshirt, revealing her tucked-in t-shirt, slip his top over her head, then replace her green one on top, the scent of him something she couldn’t quite work out, just calming.
‘I like your style,’ he whispered, his voice so close to her neck. ‘Blend in more when you’re green, right?’
‘One advantage over Amber.’
His arms wrapped around her once more, holding her close enough that she could feel each breath he took. Slow, steady. He never seemed to be afraid.
‘I can’t remember the last time someone cuddled me.’ It was too late, her cheeks heated, and she wished she could take back her words.
‘It’s not a cuddle. It’s a huddle.’
He sounded grumpy, so she simply stared at the metal on the dagger, wondering why magick had been added to the weapon and if her one had ever been used before, then the thought occurred.
‘Actually, I can. My sister cuddled me two nights before she died.’ She felt his arm twitch, then tighten that little bit more, his palm flat against her stomach.
‘What happened to her?’
‘She drowned, and my mother died trying to save her.’
His head lightly touched hers. ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ She knew he had pain like that as well.
‘I’m sorry about your mother.’ It was unthinkable what her father had done, but she couldn’t say any more. What would her words matter to him anyway? If he knew who he was holding, he would surely push her from the tree.
Silence fell for a long moment, both of them hardly moving their heads but still perusing the dark ground.
Scarlen’s thoughts drifted to her father. How often he had punished her and her siblings, telling them they would be stronger for it. She was certain he would hold a frown of disgust if he were watching her now through the witch’s eye. ‘Do you think the witch reveals us at all times here?’
‘Jesserlie is powerful, but I think she can only focus on one area at a time. She’s probably got her attention on Varklee, as he’s more likely to provide the best entertainment.’
‘It’s not entertainment. Someone will die out here.’
‘We might not like it, but for those watching, it brings some sort of sadistic joy.’ His chest rose and fell steadily, reaching into her back, adding more of his warmth. ‘You have to remember, to them we’re nothing but scum. They don’t care about our lives. Not sure they care about anyone at all.’
The thought of the king watching, uncaring, made a little sense to Scarlen. She liked to think her father loved her, but his way was cruel. He never held affection in his eyes. Perhaps he didn’t know how to love. Did she?
‘We should move.’ In case her father was watching her, she didn’t want to appear a coward, hiding in a tree, protected by a Rebel. Would that even be amusing to him? ‘We can make our way to the edge so our backs are covered.’
‘Sounds like a plan.’
They clambered down as quietly as possible, scanning the darkness for any signs of movement, but all was clear as far as they could see.
‘What did you do last time?’ she whispered.
‘I was here for two days, so stayed close to the pond.’
‘Can we really drink from it?’
‘Yeah, Jesserlie purifies it.’
They walked side by side where possible and in single file where the nature trails narrowed, Bear’s feet lighter than hers upon the fallen twigs and foliage.
‘None of this feels real,’ she said as they met the tall fence holding them in, beyond a drop to the bay.
‘You shouldn’t even be in here.’
Scarlen turned, close to his chest. ‘You shouldn’t be here either. It’s not fair.’
‘Life’s not fair. You just have to do your best to get through the shit thrown your way.’ He sat, patting the damp earth. ‘Sit for a while.’
Inhaling the night, the brine, him, she sat cross-legged, the dagger on her lap.
The gentle whooshing sound of the bay filling the air every so often reminded her of the gap between the island and the rest of the kingdom.
Were there battles taking place elsewhere as well?
Would they be told if wyrmocs had arrived already?
‘Did you kill in here last time?’ she blurted.
‘No, I tried to stay hidden. Only defend if need be.’ He faced her. ‘I’m not going to give them what they want.’
‘A show?’
He shook his head slightly. ‘Me.’
‘There’s enough tragedy in this place. They don’t need to torture us.’
‘They make money out of it, so, yeah, they do.’
Scarlen sighed quietly, her attention on the trees directly in front as something rustled. ‘Bear.’ Nudging his leg with her knee, she gestured towards the noise.
He was on his feet at once, positioning himself in front of her, but that wouldn’t do. Not if she was being observed by her father. She could sense his disappointment in her for not standing to fight. So she did, moving to Bear’s side, dagger raised, shaking but ready.