Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Guild of Assassins, Shadow Court
Lanlin
“You.” I point with my chained hands across the Sun Arena. “Don’t chase the blade. Watch their shoulders. A sword tells you nothing; a body tells you everything.”
The ragged, half-starved young Eternal with crooked teeth nods shyly, before ducking her head. “Yes, sir.”
Then she returns with renewed determination to her sparring across the pit’s floor, which is stained with dried blood.
I wrinkle my nose at the scent of sawdust and sweat.
When the guard prowls around the edge of the arena, slicing down their whip across the Eternal’s back for no other reason than boredom, I snarl.
Then I clench my hands.
“Better,” I say because I have discovered that with this small ragtag band of broken vampires, who I have taken under my protection, praise is the best reward.
They care more about my approval than the pain of the whip.
The Eternal smiles warmly at me.
A strange sensation rushes through me. I glance to the side.
She is not smiling because I am her King. None of them here see me as one anyway.
I have never felt kinship before. Is this what it’s like?
It’s better than slicing my claws into a dragon’s neck, and I enjoy that.
I am simply another captive Blood to these vampires, but one who is offering them hope.
I am Lazarus’ brother.
And he is loved.
I realize it every time one of them looks at me, and their expression softens, before they remember that I’m not him.
For the first time in my life, no one sees me as different, the outcast freak.
Our skin welts under the silver whip the same. Our blood mingles together in the sawdust.
We all burn under the sun.
I glance up at the domed roof of the giant arena. It is the color of scorched gold. A sun blazes in bronze in its center, looking down at the arena like a monstrous eye.
I scan across the rest of the arena, assessing it for weaknesses like I have every day that I have been brought here, still shackled, with the other Eternals to train.
I imagine Wraith thought that the others would enjoy having someone bound in shackles, who they could take out their frustrations on, and not that I would start drilling them in military discipline.
I scan the Sun Arena for the best way to escape, but it is well designed. There are only two exits. The silver door that the guards enter the circular arena through and the low, silver door that leads back to our cells.
Otherwise, the arena is surrounded by iron braziers that throw amber light across the pillars and black banners embroidered with golden suns.
They would burn. That could be a distraction.
I ignore the clatter of wooden practice swords and the hiss of the guards’ whips.
Instead, I look up into the tiers of black stone seats, which are empty now but are designed for the audience of the Sun Games. I narrow my eyes at the thought of the dragons who have sat there laughing and clapping to my people’s deaths.
I have fought and killed. In my kingdom, death is worshiped. But it is not entertainment.
It’s why the idea that Sobek hunted Blood Lovers sickened me.
Unfortunately, there is too large a gap between the pit and the seats. If I could transform, I would fly up there to freedom. Bound in these shackles, however, it is not an escape route.
“You’re good at this,” Yara comments, watching from my shoulder.
“It’s almost like I trained an entire army.” My lips twitch.
“We’re lucky to have you. The guards don’t know whether to be pleased or angry.” Ahm pats my shoulder, and I flinch.
I’m still not used to someone touching me so easily, or for it not to mean pain.
Ahm’s expression drops. “Sorry, Your Majesty. I forget sometimes…”
…That you’re not Lazarus.
He doesn’t need to say it.
How much Ahm misses his Alpha is like the phantom ache of a missing limb. He asked me on the first night if he could sleep on the same side of the cell with me.
Yara was angry with the Beta, but he was injured and silently crying for my twin.
I let him curl in my arms like he was an Omega, and we didn’t talk about it or the way that he murmured Laz with such torment in his voice that it shattered me.
At least then, I wasn’t the one to say it.
Now, Ahm hangs around me because I know it makes him feel closer to my brother, and because he does, Yara does as well.
At least it made it easier to take control of the other Bloods. Ahm and Yara are respected.
“Listen up,” Yara calls. “Lanlin is running some drills. Try to keep up.”
Her eyes gleam with bright excitement, which is reflected in mine.
As the Eternals turn to me, I can see the same expression on their faces.
They are smiling, knocking shoulders with each other, as if despite everything in this nightmare Guild, they have found friendship, and now in me, they are looking to find hope.
It was never like this with my army. The soldiers were frightened of me, and they should have been here.
Yet I find that I enjoy being underestimated.
I slink between the starving, scarred soldiers who take up crouching stances. They carry shields and wooden swords. On the other hand, I am unarmed and shackled.
Yet I am the most powerful one here.
I have never needed any weapon but my fangs and claws.
When the bravest Blood rushes me, adrenaline surges through me in a way that tugs my lips into a smile.
By the Shadow Devils, this is the outlet I have needed.
I dodge to the side with ease, before hooking his ankle.
He hits the sand hard.
“Next,” I command.
Another attack. Another vampire hits the sand.
The third vampire, older and grizzled — more experienced — tries to match my speed.
It is not a bad move, except that no one can move as fast as I can.
This time, I catch the Blood around the throat, dangling him in the air.
The other Eternals watch with wide eyes.
I tighten my claws around his throat, as he scrabbles at my hand. “Don’t match your opponent. Fight to your own strengths. Breathe.”
Finally, he lowers his hands, rather than giving in to his fear that I will snap his neck.
It is hard to resist the temptation with the bloodlust washing through me, but I drop him to the floor. “Good. A battle isn’t about speed but the rhythm of the attack.”
I launch myself with a growl on the closest rank of Eternals.
When they defend themselves, I take them out one by one, demonstrating how each move flows from one to the other.
I wish that I could still transform into my fog, which is the smoothest move of all.
Yet my other methods of fighting are just as fluid.
“No move should be wasted.” I am lost in the high of the fight. “Or in war, you will waste blood.”
I catch a young Eternal under his guard, nicking his neck with my claw to prove that he would be dead.
He blushes.
Then I spin to the Eternal beside him who should have had his back. “Protect the soldier next to you. Or you’re next.” I prove my point by shoving him onto his back and hovering my fangs over his throat.
Then I twirl to my feet. “Now, practice.”
I stalk through the lines of Eternals who are now as fired up as I am.
When I first started to train them, their shoulders had been slumped with defeat. Their eyes had been glassy with fear.
After all, I know Taran and his guard’s cruelty, and they’d watched their friends die, one by one.
But now, I’m trying to give them something to hold onto. Freya gave that to me, and Daire has forced me to see that a king owes it to his people.
I am trying to become a leader who my mates can be proud of.
By the Void, I won’t hide from my duty any longer.
“Balance,” I correct. “Eyes up.”
When I glance across the arena, I catch Ahm’s fond gaze resting on me. He waves with no military respect at all.
I didn’t understand how Daire could weep for a Shadow Human that he had only just met.
He called Barnabas his friend.
Yet Ahm and Yara have become my family because they are Lazarus’ nestmates. These Eternals are also important to them.
It feels strange.
They are offering me friendship.
I am unsure how to deal with it, but I wish to reward it.
If anything that I teach them helps them to survive in the arena, then I will have done my job. But the secret job that I am doing is getting them ready to escape from here and then revolt against our oppressors.
If these dragons believe that they can control the monster who they have long feared, then I will prove to them why they fear me.
As I prowl through the sparring Eternals, I lift the chin of one who barely looks strong enough to hold their shield and then adjust the stance of a Blood with more welts than I have across his shoulders.
Unexpectedly, I notice movement above in the shadows of the seats.
When I glance up, I realize that Taran and Wraith are now watching me, whispering to each other.
My shoulders stiffen.
I close my eyes for a moment, summoning a moth. I wait for a moment, and when one circles my head like a fluttering ghost, I whisper to her, commanding her to spy on Taran.
“The dragons treat us like beasts,” I call loudly enough to be certain that Taran hears me. “But we’re Bloods. In the name of the Shadow Devils, never forget that.”
I am shocked by the cheers that ring out, echoing up to the unblinking sun on the roof.
Ahm and Yara wander over to join me.
“Laz never told us that his brother gave inspirational speeches.” Yara spins her wooden sword in front of her with practiced ease. “Or are you just trying to piss off the fucker up in the stands?”
I bare my canines. “It seems that you do know me.”
When my moth flutters back to my shoulder and murmurs in my ear what she heard Taran and Wraith talking about, I grimace.
The dragons were discussing what the wedding dress was going to look like at the coronation in a couple of days.
My stomach drops.
My gaze darts to Taran, who is watching me intently.
His lips quirk.
He knows that I am spying on him.
Did he talk about that just to hurt me?
I force myself to smile again, but now, it feels wrong.
Fake.
“What’s wrong?” Ahm asks, alarmed.