Chapter 46
Chapter
Forty-Six
ARA
Despite the king’s death and Frederick’s rushed coronation, the games go on as if nothing has happened, and maybe no one has a choice. I can’t see Iza paying regard to the affairs of a human, even a king.
We are once more gathered within the arena’s curved walls. Only today, Frederick is occupying the king’s throne, his mother stoic and regal next to him.
Fewer flights occupy the sand, and with Avina, we are the only contenders left from Belarra. Harea and Ilyn have only two groups left, too, but Kystis and Muntos fared better, with three flights remaining each. Their heavier animals were probably an advantage in the maze.
The sky is blue above us, not a cloud in sight, and I can’t help but hope it will stay that way.
A gleaming letter waiting on the table this morning summoned us.
It’s been ten days since the last round, and I hope whatever the goddess has for us today will be kinder.
Solaris has just reached his old glory, and I don’t know if I can stand another week of complaining.
“I have to listen to you pine for him all day, too,” Solaris counters, and I snort.
“The only one who has it even worse than me is Daeva,” he teases.
“Tell me more.”
He snorts. “Just look at him.”
And even if I want to, I keep facing the front. I don’t want to hand Frederick any excuses to use his newly won power.
A shower of light announces the goddess, who this time sits on the ledge, dangling her legs over the edge.
“Today is about… No, let’s not make it that easy.” She leans back on her hands. Her eyes sweep over us. “Every unit has to rely on its members…” I don’t like the way her eyes rest on me. “I’ll pick someone”—her eyes jump to Tate—“no, let’s make that two in every flight to compete for their team.”
I’m not surprised when only seconds later I’m bathed in golden light, and Tate doesn’t fare any better. Of course, she would pick us.
Two people from each flight are illuminated. Iza makes a shooing motion, and everyone else leaves the arena. Our flight gives us worried glances, but I put on a reassuring smile and hope failing just gets them kicked out, not killed.
The space around us transforms. Sand-colored walls rise around us, and I hastily step in Tate’s direction when one wall approaches me. They grow higher and higher until the sky is just a small band above us, and Tate and I are alone in a room without any of the other contestants in sight.
Iza speaks again.
“I’m the door you dread to choose,
through me, friends and hearts to lose.
Yet whisper once what hides in shade,
and I will vanish, challenge paid.
Hold your tongue, keep truth confined,
then test your strength and sharpened mind.
For every hour you don’t speak,
the path grows dark, the end more bleak.”
We stand in a small room, the sand-colored walls around us are smooth and bare. Without a crevice in sight—unscalable.
There is only one exit, and when we step toward it, a wall of flame surges up, barring it.
Okay, maybe this isn’t so bad.
I reach for the flames, but when my hand makes contact, I jump back and look at my stinging fingers. It burned me.
“The flames of truth,” Tate says, eyeing the silvery-blue fire dancing in front of us. He’s right. The flickering wall barring our way looks just like it’s described in the stories. I guess we are playing with the gods here.
“Something you dread and hides in the shade…” Tate murmurs.
“Causing you to lose friends or love, and it vanishes when whispered,” I complete the clues.
We look at each other. “Secrets.”
“Who would have guessed from the goddess of the hunt and secrets?” I comment dryly, trying hard to keep the dread from showing. My stomach just dropped to the ground and buried itself so deep in the sand that I have no chance of retrieving it.
There is no way this can end well, not with the secrets I’m keeping and what Tate means to me. Are you fucking happy now? I direct the thoughts toward Iza, and I think I hear faint laughter.
Hissing comes from behind us, and we both whirl around, only to find a snake writhing on the ground.
She rises, showing us her blue underside.
Suddenly, I remember pain in my leg and a blue-bellied snake flying through the air.
The rest of the memories follow in a rush—how my magic gift fought and eliminated it, how it drained my gift, painful walks and sweaty nights, falling into the river, Calix fishing me out…
“I remember,” I whisper. “One of those beasts bit me during Picking, and it drained my gift.”
“A blue-belly bit you during Picking?” Tate asks, pulling me behind him.
“Yes, and I survived it.” I step in front of him. “You are the one with healing powers here, so better I get hurt than you.”
“Mists, no. That’s not how it works.”
The snake shimmers, and suddenly, there are two.
“So we kill the snakes and get out of here? Maybe we should hurry.” The snakes shimmer and multiply again, leaving us with four of the beasts.
“Wait, there was something about whispering what hides and the challenge being paid, wasn’t there?” Tate says, while I only have eyes for the hissing, writhing creatures in front of us.
“So we blurt out secrets and can walk out?” I ask. Maybe I’d rather fight those snakes.
“Don’t be ridiculous, just talk to him.” Solaris chimes in.
“I’ll lose him.”
“You’ll have to tell him at some point.” I know Solaris is right, and I will tell him … eventually.
Tate takes my hand and squeezes.
“We’ll get through this,” he whispers, but he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. There is no way he’ll look at me the same way if this goes as we suspect.
“I love you.” I blurt out the words I was too scared to voice until now. The hissing stops. “I need you to know that, to remember that, okay?” I whisper, and Tate’s heated gaze sets my skin ablaze. His eyes linger on my mouth before returning to mine with a look of pure agony.
“You have the worst fucking timing ever,” he grumbles.
“Couldn’t you have told me that while we were alone and preferably somewhere with a bed?
” He gives me a wicked grin. “Or a desk?” Heat thunders through me at that reminder.
He looks around. “And not at the beginning of a competition that ensures that I have you next to me for who knows how long without being able to touch or kiss you?”
And gods do I hope he still wants to once we reach the end.
The room is once more empty and silent around us, and the doorway is open, with no flame in sight.
“How about taking turns?” Tate asks, and I nod weakly while grasping his hand tighter, holding on to him.
The next room seems empty at first, but as soon as we step into it, flames shoot up in front of the other exit, and there is a rumble above us. When we look up, a grate with spikes starts to descend.
“Lovely,” I comment.
“I joined the skyriders solely for this trial,” Tate says, and it stops.
“To break the promise,” I whisper, and he nods. “Is it bad?”
He nods again.
“And you can’t tell me anything about it?”
He sighs. “I had to leave.” And I know there is more to his statement. He is trying to tell me something.
Still holding hands, we walk through the door and down a corridor, only to end up in a room just like the ones before. Familiar flames surge up as soon as we enter. And water pours in from the sides.
“Something bad would have happened if you had stayed,” I say, and the spark of excitement in his eyes tells me I’m right. Maybe I can’t promise him forever, but I won’t give up on him either. I’ll give him back his freedom, even if it’s the last thing I do.
Every room gives us less time before something threatens our lives, but it stops, and the flames clear our path as soon as one of us reveals a secret.
And as we work our way through the maze of rooms, each question brings me closer to the truth behind his promise, and soon I am sure it has something to do with the succession to the throne.
It’s fine in the beginning. There are small secrets to share, things we don’t have a problem confiding. But soon, only the heavier ones are left, and both of us have secrets we can’t even share because promises bind us.
Dread stacks up in my gut like lead weights.
Once again, we stand before the flames. It’s my turn, and I rack my brain looking for anything I could declare a secret while ignoring the ones pressing in on my mind. But I come up empty. Neither of us moves, neither of us speaks, while we look around trying to spot the danger.
There is a buzz like a bowstring being released, and Tate throws himself over me, a puff of air leaving his lungs when we land. He throws up a shield around us before he lets me sit up. I look around, but there is no arrow in sight. Tate winces.
“Could you?” he asks, turning his back to me, and there it is, lodged in his left shoulder. Despite the armor he’s wearing. My breath catches. About a hand span to the right, and it could have hit his heart.
More arrows fly, and voices start around us, cursing, begging, pleading, but neither of us pays attention since Tate’s shield holds, and we have more important things to take care of.
I help unbuckle his armor, and with a sympathetic wince from me and a muffled groan from him, I pull the arrow free, using my foot as leverage against his back.
Blood gushes from the wound, and I press my hands to it while Tate heals himself.
“Done,” he says, and only now do I dare to remove my hands from his bloody skin.
Only a pinkish patch of skin remains. I slip my arms around him from behind, my head resting against his back, while I simply hold him for a moment.
When I slacken my hold, he lifts one of my hands to his mouth, kissing my bloody palm, then turns around in my hold, facing me.
“I hate when you get hurt,” I murmur.
“I’m terrified of losing you,” he whispers, and he’s not the only one. I swallow and wipe at my face when a single tear escapes. I can’t lose him.
The arrows have stopped, but I’m not sure if it’s because of Tate’s admission or because we waited them out.
Tate rolls his shoulder, and I help him back into the armor with care, paying attention to every latch I close. I make sure it sits and protects him properly, even if divine arrows seem to go through it.
He has a smudge of blood on his cheek, probably from my hands, and since I wiped at my face, I can only imagine how ghastly I look—with my hands, my face, and the front of my armor stained in his blood.
The next room instantly fills with smoke. No, not smoke, mist. And suddenly, I have a terrible feeling about this.
“Just tell him,” Solaris urges, but I shake my head. I can’t tell him. If I tell him, I’ll lose him.
A burn starts on my skin, where the mist touches me. I suck in a breath and step back, closer to Tate, but otherwise stay silent. Tate throws up a shield around us, keeping the mist at bay, while I search for another secret.
“I honestly can’t think of anything,” he mutters. “Nothing I would get over my lips at least.” And I know he’s talking about his promise.
“Me neither,” I murmur, but his eyes flit to me, alert, like he knows I’m lying.My stomach cramps.
The mist gets thicker, tendrils snaking along Tate’s shield, reaching for us. A clicking sound starts, reminding me of the beasts hiding in the mists. Shit.
There is a voice, and by the way Tate’s eyes search the mist, he hears it too.
Then I can make out the words, and I freeze.
“Hey, little warrior,” Lorcan purrs. No. Please, no. But despite my plea, Lorcan steps out of the mist, his eyes fixed on me.
Next to me, Tate is now as rigid as I am. I grip his hand, afraid he will step away from me.
“Do you want to take up where we left off the last time?” Lorcan asks. Those are the same words he spoke weeks ago, but this illusion steps up to me and reaches for me in a way that makes it seem all … all wrong. And I realize in this instant that if I don't talk, I’ll lose Tate for sure.