Chapter 37 #2
Could demons manifest? Was that all it took to possess Tsan’s luck? Part of me didn’t want that mystery solved. “If you say so, but I think your great-great-great-grandfather shacked up with a fairy for a night though.”
“I hope he had a great time.”
We laughed, but then stilled at a hissing signal spreading through the fortress. The noise would spread over the realm too, and through the pinnacle where yellow and orange demons were about to learn they weren’t fighting today.
Tiers was about to begin.
“This feels fateful,” Tsan noted. “That noise started this whole thing for both of us, and now it feels like…”
The same sound is finishing it. I stood, already dressed for the occasion in my training attire. “I’ll see you there.”
I opened a portal for him, then erased signs of Athira and Tsan from my room. “Thank you,” I said to my kingly ghosts.
Tyran was walking toward me from across the fortress, but I started for the arena without him. Any drive to keep up appearances had left me, so I walked with the other crimsons and reds heading to the arena.
I spared a glance for the distant yellows and oranges inching across the restored—but still crumbling—walkway that connected the top of the pinnacle to the Crave Arena.
I entered the side entrance and climbed the stairs.
Games. I was sick of the games.
Tiers had been a means to an end for me, but Tyran’s game had to end. He’d messed with demons and other supernaturals for far too long.
I climbed the stairs, overtaking other high-ranking demons, who stood aside for me to pass.
I sat on the smaller of the two thrones, and my brow furrowed as I took in the demons below.
Usually the arena was packed, but there were far fewer demons here.
I could see large patches of empty seating.
No wonder. The demons who had come were worse for wear.
Though no longer leaking smoke, they were exhausted and weakened.
Tyran sat in the throne beside me. “Syera.”
I didn’t acknowledge him.
He smirked in my peripheries, and we were quiet as the last demons filtered in below.
Tyran approached the balustrade, and the subdued crowd quietened.
“My people,” he said. “Your favorite fighters wait in the tunnels. This has been a game unlike any other, and you will receive your victor in the fourth and final round of Tiers. But this week, I offer my own gift to our future queen on the eve of her coronation to become your ruler.”
The crowd hung on his every word, a skill Tyran had crafted over millennia.
“Unbeknownst to five demons in this viewing box, they are about to enter the arena and fight to the last demon standing. A reminder that the most powerful can be toppled, as I myself was reminded of recently. The rules are the same. But this round of Tiers is complete in itself. The victor may ask a boon of the new queen after she is crowned.”
The crowd exchanged shocked glances. If I’d cared to, then I would have listened to their muttered words, which I could imagine were along the lines of “Fighters from the fortress?”
I was more focused on the none-too-subtle shift in the demons behind me.
Tyran didn’t face them. “Gu, Hiub, Vih, Ij, and Wse. Go to the fighting floor.”
Good picks if Tyran wanted to avoid his fortress demons from revolting. The five he’d selected didn’t have large families or strong connections. Gu had both, but he was the strongest, and most would expect him to win.
I listened as they slowly rose and left the very silent viewing box.
The murmurs of the crowd swelled. Despite their exhaustion, excitement was building. What struggling demon wouldn’t love to watch the powerful fight it out?
Tyran returned to his throne, and as he sat, he patted the pocket of his cloak. I frowned. He never wore a cloak.
What was in there?
The five crimsons spread out through the arena. There were no alliances—no time and no incentive to create one seeing as only one of them would walk away.
“Let Tiers begin,” Tyran announced.
As he always had.
For the last fucking time. I was determined about that.
Gu knew he was the target and promptly disappeared into the jutting rocks. Three of the remaining demons did the same, all heading in his direction.
Hiub made for the checkpoint.
Crimson power exploded, and that was when I seized my chance to inspect the arena for white magic. I seeped power in the direction of the fighting floor. I worked down through the stone and dirt and dust, past the stands filled with feverish demons.
I creeped my power into the sandy dust of the arena and inspected the grains.
My heart hammered.
No white.
Not here anyway. I inched my power further forward and repeated my checks. No white.
I did the same three more times before I was half inclined to believe the qer had succeeded in their mission.
Drawing my power back, I couldn’t fully allow myself to believe the qer had eradicated Tyran’s power from the Crave Arena. Because if I believed that, only to find out that Tyran had figured out our intention with enough time to thwart us, or stash the white magic elsewhere…
I was running on hope fumes. It wouldn’t take much for those fumes to completely disperse.
The crowd roared, and I blinked a few times as the last tendril of my power tucked safely within me again.
“And Gu was no longer,” Tyran murmured, smirking.
I grimaced at the scene below.
Gu had become goo.
Wse was next to go. Beheaded.
Vih and Ij locked in battle. If I were Hiub, I’d want Vih to win—he was weaker.
From the checkpoint, Hiub released her magic. As Ij moved in for the kill, she hooked his ankle, which allowed Vih to wrestle control and end the fight.
Ah, Hiub. Tyran never should have booted you out of war council.
“Smarter than I thought,” Tyran said, as if realizing the same.
Vih limped in Hiub’s direction, and the result was a no-brainer. He’d expended a lot of power to take out the others already. After a brief clash of power and smoke, Hiub stood covered in his blood.
She staggered to the checkpoint, and the applause from onlookers was lackluster at best. They’d watched Tiers for years, maybe their entire lives. The fortress demons had put on a paltry show of skill and strength, especially considering the color of their scales.
Tyran returned to the balustrade. “Hiub. Return to the fortress, victorious. The queen will grant your chosen boon once she rules this realm.”
Without warning, he portaled to the fighting floor, and the demons in the arena surged to their feet to get a better look. He’d only gone down there once before—when I’d appeared in the arena months ago.
Tyran reached into the pocket of his cloak and drew out his crown.
My mouth dried. This was it. He was about to recharge it.
Please have purged the arena, you ugly little fuckers.
“Our future ruler returned to me through her own battle in this very arena, and so it is only fitting to set the crown that she will receive in the freshly spilled blood of those she will soon rule.”
He set the crown upon the sand, and my heart was in my throat as I waited to see if Istg had finally won a round over Ronj.
Tyran stilled. He stared at the crown, and then at the surrounding sand. His shoulders heaved, and then slowly, he looked up at me in the viewing box.
Murder. Ice. Fury.
I was too deep in this mess to be afraid of what he might do, so I enjoyed every bit of the triumph coursing through my veins. I may die tomorrow, but at least I’d have this memory to cling to.
Tyran rose to his full height, then made an elaborate show of his black-tinged crimson smoke to wow the crowd. None of his power touched the crown. He didn’t want to lessen the power within himself.
That’s right, fucker. Those little plans of mine are a pain in your ass.
He’d sacrificed four crimsons today in a bid to charge his new crown. Did he feel dumb? I hoped so.
Tyran picked up the crown. “To serve as your king has been my honor,” he told the crowd.
“There is nothing that I wouldn’t do for this realm, and that includes stepping aside so a greater power can prevail against our enemy.
I will serve on as mate to our all-powerful ruler, a position that brings me just as much honor. ”
The demons clapped and cheered, but their confusion filled the air.
Kings didn’t do this. Future rulers didn’t allow this either.
This casual and accepting change of leadership didn’t compute to the realm.
They wouldn’t dare to do anything about their confusion because my power did compute to them, as did Carmine’s. But the confusion was certainly there.
Four crimsons just walked to their deaths without a single question or complaint because Carmine had told them to. Their families and friends sat behind me now and didn’t dare show anger or tears.
Tyran held the crown high, then portaled back to the viewing box. “My queen,” he murmured. “Shall we?”
I rose and set my hand over his closed fist.
We left the viewing box and descended the stairs. We were nearly back at the fortress when Tyran put his mouth close to my ear. “Very clever, Syera.”
I didn’t reply, which had been my mode since two days ago. There was nothing left to say, and everything left to do.
“I should thank you,” he said in a voice that chilled my insides. “Less of my enemy exist than ever. Were the qer responsible for that?”
I remained silent.
He whispered, “Sleep well during your last night of freedom. Tomorrow you will be mine.”