Chapter Seventeen #2
“A quick overview of the rules,” Death states, gruff voice scraping the air. He stands on the edge of the lawn with dice in hand. The High Fae linger beneath the tent for shade.
“His Magnificence will go first. All parties are forbidden to speak or touch one another for the duration of their turn.
I will roll the dice, then reveal the number only to the king, who will move his faeries that many spaces.
The High Fae can split the number between both faeries, but no two pawns of opposing teams can occupy the same square simultaneously.
“If the faerie lands on gold, they will move four more squares. If they land on silver, the High Fae will either swap them with another pawn or reverse another House’s next number in the round, so their pawn moves backward.
If the faerie lands on red, they are immune from a silver-square attack.
Land on black, and the pawn must return to the starting line.
Whichever High Fae can get their faerie of the same House to the center of the Pith first wins. ”
The king clasps his hands. “Thank you, Death. Now, after each round, High Fae and their faeries can strategize together for two minutes. Whichever pawn wins will keep the Prize of the Pith. Spend it, save it, give it away.” He pauses, considering. “It is one gold coin.”
A glint of gold appears in the center of the labyrinth, floating in the air.
A collective gasp. One gold coin is worth one hundred silvers, one thousand coppers—what I make in a year as an Illusion Crest. Paid all at once toward debt…
How many rings would that shave off? What lies at the center of the Pith is not just a coin.
It is a once-in-a-century chance at freedom.
Sweat drips down my spine as the faeries shift eagerly. On the other side of the Healing attendants, Benji jerks his chin up.
If I cannot help Benji win, then I shall win and give it to him. The realization descends like a heavy blanket. The fleeting vision of my unmarred skin dies out.
“Are you ready to lose?” the king asks the other High Fae as he swaggers from the shade of the tent and toward Death.
“If history is any indicator, I will win.” Kassandra smirks.
“Much has changed since then, Kass.”
“Aye, but the crown did not come with a brain.”
The king barks a laugh. When I glimpse my mistress, she is baring her teeth, and because she is a lady, the males perceive it as a smile and not a threat.
The executioner tosses the dice into the air, which disappear in the light of the sun, then land in his hand. Death reveals the result to the king, who nods.
The plane cascades with a sharp, jerking energy. To my left, Carter grunts. The valet teeters forward like a wooden toy. Reign magic, I realize with horror. The High Fae are using their magic to move us. We cannot even move ourselves.
Carter crosses two spaces, landing on a red square. Lila steps forward just one to a silver square, and the two switch places. She lands on the third spot, while he returns to the first.
Eli takes his turn and moves his pawn forward five spaces to the only gold square on this leg of the route, advancing another four spaces to the corner square, the first turn of the labyrinth. The king and Dominik swear, and Kassandra is silent.
Death rolls for Kassandra next. Briar passes Carter and Lila, stepping to the sixth spot, a red square. She is protected from silver-square attacks.
An unseen hand grabs my wrist, and I lock eyes with Kassandra, who raises a brow. I am yanked beyond Carter, Lila, and Briar, and the force lets go of my wrist.
My shoes glitter with gold paint. The males under the tent groan.
Grinning, Kassandra advances me the additional four spaces, until I occupy the same square as the Healing servant.
“We have our first match-up,” Death announces. “As two faeries cannot occupy the same space, they must fight for it. The fights can include root magic, but the High Fae will decide. First to draw blood will win the spot. The losing faerie will be disqualified.”
The Healing faerie swallows. My hands dampen with sweat. Kassandra’s pale eyes pierce into me, cold and distant, and I do not keep the hate from mine.
How dare she? How dare she set me up like this? She chose to split her number this way—protecting Briar and setting me up for a fight and elimination.
“Lady Kassandra,” the executioner says. “Will this fight include magic?”
“No.”
I glare at her. The faeries whisper. The High Fae whip in her direction, mouths agape.
I think of the phantom hand, feeling my arm. What are you, made of rocks now?
The executioner simply nods. “Then it will be a fight of the fists.”
My mind goes blank. If anyone protests or cuts in, I do not hear or see it. I only register the male in front of me widening his stance. We are similar in height, but his tattooed arms are as lean and muscular as mine from physical labor. He may outlast me, so I must end it quickly.
“I will give the signal in three,” Death says over the murmuring High Fae.
They are betting.
They are betting on us.
White-hot anger flashes through my mind, and I remember standing outside a fighting pit long ago, watching my father pin down another faerie, pummeling him over and over, sweat and spittle and blood flying in every direction as coins changed hands and new bets were made.
“Three. Two—”
The executioner whistles.
I lunge, tackling the faerie, my back slamming on the grass as he twists to land on top of me. The air knocks from my lungs, his knee crunching my side. He winds up for a punch, but I surge forward, smashing my skull into his nose.
The faerie jerks back, swearing, but there’s no blood yet. I throw an elbow against the nose with a crunch. He flops onto the ground, blood gushing from his nostrils.
“Fuck,” he spits.
“Sorry,” I say, offering a hand as I climb to my feet.
He knocks it away. “Don’t bother.”
He walks off the lawn, eliminated.
My dress stains with pigment, and I wipe the sweat from my forehead. From the tent, there’s a quick shout, a laugh. Death announces my victory. The next turn commences, and I scan the board.
Benji cries out from the starting line.
He lands on the fourth square, a black one. My heart wrenches. He returns to the beginning, blinking, face blotchy with the onset of tears.
“The round is finished,” Death declares. “You may speak to your faeries now.”
The High Fae scatter like pearls off a snapped string. Only Dominik stays behind, grabbing another drink, a smirk on his face.
He will not let Benji win. He just wants to torture the boy. Fury awakens my genius, tingeing the air.
Kassandra whispers with Briar before making her way to me. When she reaches my side, I clench my fists.
“When plans changed, I asked Briar to tell me everything about herself and anything she knew of you,” my mistress says. “She told me she’s quick with water and your father was a fighter in the pits. Then you showed up, your genius and body different, and I knew how I wanted to place my bets.”
I grit my teeth, then ask, “What’s different about my genius?”
She looks across the field. “It’s…fresher. As if you’ve been letting it out more. Now, do you want to win or just ask self-absorbed questions?”
I exhale. “I want Benji to win.”
“Dominik will only tease him.”
“I know,” I mutter. “What’s in it for the High Fae? If we get to keep the coin, what do you get?”
Kassandra frowns. “We take side bets each round with the biggest bet being the winner.”
“How? I see no exchange of coin.”
My mistress shifts. “It’s complicated.”
“One minute left!” the executioner shouts.
“I’m still blood sworn to you,” I say. “I cannot tell a soul.”
She looks away. “We buy and sell faerie debts.”
“What?”
“Sometimes we trade debt. Other times, it’s a one-way purchase.”
“What are you saying?” I hiss. “Why jest with me like this?”
“I’m not jesting.”
“But why own debt willingly?”
“Because then I become the creditor, and the creditor makes the coin. Say I buy one hundred Healing rings—birth debts—across different faeries. The House of Healing receives a full payment for those balances up front. But all future payments faeries make toward that debt and its interest go to me now. It’s the interest that is key.
It’s about who owns whom, and for how long. ”
Nausea rolls through me. They trade our debts like cards.
“And what have you bet on?” I seethe.
“Just that you would win the first round. I haven’t made the big bet yet. The winner obtains one hundred thousand rings of Reign debt across the most consistent-paying faeries.”
I gasp. “You—”
“Don’t step out of the square.”
“Time’s up!” the executioner shouts. “High Fae, back to the tent.”
“I’ll see you next round,” she says, nodding. “You will win this. I will make sure.”
“Don’t you mean ‘we’?” I cry.
Kassandra returns to the tent without responding. Panic builds in my throat, the urge to scream so strong I ache.
How are they able to purchase thousands of faeries’ payments in one afternoon? I would never see that kind of money even after many lifetimes of working.
King Maxian takes his turn. Lila lands on the silver square behind me.
“The next time Illusion rolls their dice, they will reverse their steps!” Maxian calls out.
I glance at Lila. “I’m normally not violent.”
“You had to be,” she says. Her skin seems to glow in the sun, while mine has begun to turn from tan to red. “You have almost twenty rings, and I have never had more than thirteen. So I have not felt certain struggles.”
I glance up. “Thank you” is all I can manage.
Thank you for your kindness when I do not deserve it. My anger and shame splinter under her compassion.
Eli approaches Death for his turn. He gets his remaining faerie on the board. Kassandra rolls, swearing.
A gentle tug on my stained dress, and I move backward, past Lila and another square until the fabric falls to my side once more, Kassandra letting go.
I am on a black square.