Nineteen
Rohan
“We’re here to finally call the results of the first game!” Halen shouts, arms outstretched. “My apologies for the delay, but fear not, we are ready now!”
The crowd roars and whistles as he walks across the stage, guards at the edges.
I track him, my mask in place, my clan at my back where we stand on the sand. The other clans following suit.
They called us early this morning to gather in the arena of the Enclave. I thought we’d have more time, but I should’ve known better.
I look up to the stands and scan the royal section.
No sign of Alara.
Fuck, where is she?
“Shall we call the first one?” Halen asks the crowd.
They wave their cloths in the air and scream, calling for blood. Our blood.
“Clan Firehorn. You won first place, you have one death.”
The crowd boos and I grit my teeth, glancing at the tallied board.
“I want to kill them all,” Sigrid says to my right.
“I want Mercia to burn them all in their seats,” Varan growls to my left, showing more hatred than he usually does.
Mercia was the green dragon that died in the game.
Durruk is next to him, followed by Karag.
I nod in agreement as the king calls the guards.
“I have decided that a selection of guards will be choosing who dies from each clan. This is a boon I gave to those loyal to Lothmere. Those who have proven themselves over the last year to be worthy of the patch of the Guard!”
My body tenses as five guards walk down the steps from the stage, those above and around us tracking them with arrows loaded with Nighturn in case they are in need of protection.
They delve into Karag’s clan, and we don’t turn to look when a scream pierces the air. A woman is dragged forward, her blonde hair frazzled as she fights the guards.
She doesn’t ask them to let her go, doesn’t shout for Karag to protect her.
It doesn’t surprise me. The Dragorie have a strength that’s unmatched, trained into us from birth.
That doesn’t mean some won’t beg us to save them, though.
The woman is brought up on stage, and the king smiles, standing off to the side, hands behind his back.
“Begin.”
The woman growls, thrashing against the hands holding her with a deathly grip and then, she stills.
The tip of a sword appears through her stomach, being pushed through from behind and red spreads across her tunic. She grunts, blood dripping from her mouth as her eyes glaze over. The rest of the sword is thrust through sharply, unnecessarily, but they like to be rough with the Dragorie.
Her body falls forward, and then a foot is at her back, kicking her off the sword. She falls from the stage to the sand of the Enclave floor.
Unseeing eyes face us, and I grit my teeth.
“First one down, many more to go!” the king announces. “Next! Clan Highwing, two deaths.”
Sigrid tenses, the movement small.
The guards come again, pulling two from the clan, males. Barely twenty.
Too young. Too soon.
“Dragonbond,” one of them reaches out to Sigrid, and she takes a step forward before she stops herself, hands fisting at her sides.
She can’t go to him, otherwise more deaths will follow.
They’re up on the stage in no time, the boys’ eyes on their leader. They don’t fight, accepting their fate with a shaky nod before they too, have swords coming from their stomachs, their bodies dropping to the floor.
“May Morana guide you both,” Sigrid whispers.
“Clan Blackscale,” Halen announces next. “Three deaths.”
I breathe in slowly, eyes closing momentarily as the guards pass me. I itch to turn. To grab them and break their necks. To tear them limb from limb, to stop them from hurting my clan.
But it will mean death to more.
I look up at the stands and the crowd watching with smiles on their faces. My gaze sweeps further up over the king’s children, observing in silence.
“Hurry now!” the king shouts.
There’s a yell, followed by a cry that pierces the air through the noise of roaring crowd.
I freeze.
I know that voice.
“No, no, not him, take me, take me! Please! Take me!” Maery screams, and I turn slowly.
The other Dragonbonds tense, knowing this isn’t what I’m supposed to do, but I cannot stay still at the screams of a desperate mother.
“No, me. Take me, I’ll do anything! Please. Not him. Not my son.”
The guards come through, but my clan is grabbing at them, trying to stop them in their tracks.
Nighturn is released into them, the green vapor like a mist curling around them, the guards protected by their face coverings.
“Rohan…” Sigrid warns as I step forward, snarling, heading toward that voice.
More guards head for my clan, and the crowd that’s gathered around the other guards. Some are hit, others are dragged away.
I push through, seeing two of my clan with arrows in them as the guards brandish their swords.
“Back up.”
I nod for my clan to do so as I reach Maery. Nighturn is beginning to take her from the arrow in her leg. She crawls through the sand, sobs shaking her whole body as she grabs onto me.
“My son, Dragonbond… my-my son. Please.”
“You will stay in line!” Halen shouts, and I turn to the stage, my body locking up when I see three of my clan members standing upon it.
The guards must have taken them out in the struggle.
The screams of Maery ring in my ears as I gently take her clawing hand off of me and walk forward, my axe already in hand. Alara’s soft hair beneath my palm.
“The rules are rules, and the guards have chosen,” the king continues, but it’s like I can’t hear properly, heat filling my chest, my breathing ragged.
I pick up the pace, red tinting my vision.
The king’s eyes flick to me as guards form a line of defense, stopping me from getting to the stage.
“And with the rules,” Halen says, eyes on me. “Those who will die have been chosen. And they will die.”
I raise my axe to break through the line of defense, axe swinging and connecting with a guard just as Nighturn hits me.
The vapor settles around me, much more than they would normally use.
My eyes connect with much younger, wide and fearful ones as my body begins to slow, and the green mist swallows me before I drop.
“Of course, my king. It’s an honor that you are willing to let me perform these tasks for you.”
The air feels thick and heavy as I rouse from unconsciousness, my head pounding. I cough, blinking my eyes open.
Stone greets me, and my brows furrow.
Where am I…
And then I remember.
Lykke!
I sit up, eyes scanning the space around me. I’m in the cell, bound to the wall by chains around my wrists. A cloth is tied around my mouth, and I growl into it.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck.
Why am I back here?
The Enclave, my clan, Maery and—
“The mighty Dragonbond.”
My head snaps up, gaze landing on the man before me, and my entire body stills.
He organizes the bets of The Games every year without fail, always catering to the king.
He’s also someone who I’ll kill, slowly.
Painfully.
Dragging it out until I can’t keep him alive anymore.
My eyes flicker, hands fisting as I shake with rage.
“Ahh,” he says, hands clasped in front of him. “I see I have my answer as to whether you know who I am. Or more so, what I’ve done.”
Yes, I do.
I’ve known who he is even before Alara uttered his name to me in the dragon’s den, and I’ve known from that moment, he would die.
I’ve been in the presence of many lords, every single time The Games come around. And Emerish is one of them.
He leans against the bars and I breathe heavily through my nose, the rage within wanting an escape, just like in the Enclave… when they took my clan on stage and—
“I have to wonder what you’ve done to my slave to make her so… bold.” My eyes narrow. “Oh, you don’t know. We’ve spent some time together, her and I.”
The breath punches out of me, vision doubling.
He can’t mean…
That’s why he’s down here?
That means Alara’s down here?
I struggle against the chains. Growling.
“You see, the king has tasked me to make sure she does as she’s told. Speak to his dragons. I’m sure you are aware, yes? And yet, she still refuses.”
My brave, stupid, girl.
I told her to do whatever they asked, and yet I can’t fault her for wanting to protect the clan.
Pride swells up inside of me, swirling around that rage, adding flames to the fire.
“So when the guards had to knock you out with too much Nighturn, the king saw it as an opportunity to make you aware of what happens when you disobey him, but also what happens when she does too, while he prepares for the elven people to arrive.”
I look around him, trying to see where Alara is but there is no sign of her.
“So,” he continues, “What’s going to happen is you are going to be knocked out again, and then taken to where your Little Whisperer is. And then we will all do our jobs and you both shall live. For now.”
He turns, fully facing me as he unlocks the cell door, taking a single step inside.
I hurl myself at him, going as far as the chains will reach, baring my teeth and growling behind the cloth.
He flinches, but quickly recovers, a look of disgust crossing his features. “So uncivilized.” He takes a sphere of Nighturn out of his pocket, this one large, and holds it in his palm. “How much did she tell you?”
I pull against the chains, my arms twisting, my shoulders screaming, wrists bleeding. I still try to get to him, to tear him apart for what he has done to her.
“Considering your reaction, she’s told you some of it. I wonder, has she told you about the time when I made her keep her mouth open to be used if she wanted water? She was used a fair amount of times. Are you not disgusted?”
My eyes narrow to slits.
“What about when I would make her kneel forward for her to be displayed?” I growl. “No one could fuck her though, do you want to know why?”
He throws the sphere up in the air and catches it.
“I couldn’t risk her getting pregnant. Elves’ tolerance to certain medicinal herbs is high.
You see, they heal really well. Too well, really.
Their bodies can be put through all manner of things.
Unless it’s internal like a sickness or issues with pregnancy and blood loss, they can heal from anything that isn’t too severe.
Perfect for those who need to purge their… anger.”
My fingers twitch, that heat spreading through me like never before.
“But, I do wonder if I went too far this time.”
I still, nostrils flaring as panic sets in.
What has he done? Where is Alara?
“You will make her agree to speak with the king’s dragons, do as she is tasked.” He takes another step closer. “But, let me show you just what an elf can withstand, first.”