11. Aldrin
D ante drags me out of the Haven of Death and across the rocky peak of the mountain without telling me where we are going. This high up, with clouds rolling over the ground and the silvery light of perpetual dusk, it feels like we are in the sky.
The pounding of boots on stone and the chanting roars of a hundred disembodied voices reach me long before the great stone walls of a circular arena rise out of the gloom. There is a crowd waiting within and they are clearly hungry for entertainment. Calling for blood.
My stomach bottoms out as I glance at Dante. “What the fuck is going on?”
“You’ll see.” He doesn’t even bother to look over his shoulder at me as he marches toward that amphitheater.
I grab his arm and force him to turn around, stopping us at the base of a long staircase that climbs up into the building. “That is a fighting arena. Tell me, Dante, who is fighting this morning?”
A feminine voice rises from within, making an announcement, and the cheers of the crowd flare to greet it. We both turn toward the racket, my heart stopping, because I just fucking know.
The huge blocks of the stairs reach up to the height of a castle, disappearing through a great archway entrance. Colossal statues set at regular intervals line the entire top wall of the arena, depicting vicious beasts with fangs, scales, wings and claws.
Dante pulls free of me and steps forward, but I refuse to follow.
“I am not entering this arena until you tell me what is going on.” I grind my teeth.
Dante lets out a long-suffering sigh. “This is your final trial, Aldrin.”
“You could have given me a little fucking warning,” I growl, pushing past him and beginning to climb the damned stairs to my fate.
“For what purpose? Have you not been preparing for it every day regardless?” he calls after me.
I snarl wordlessly at him and he holds up his hands.
“It’s against the rules. The entire purpose of these trials is to test how you survive when thrown into dangerous situations.
Technically, I’m meant to toss you into the arena, then inform you it is a trial, but you are standing on the steps, so it is close enough. ”
I grumble a string of curses.
Pure dread builds within me, knotting up my insides the closer I get to that archway, but I have walked into countless battles before. I clench and unclench my fists, trying to release the tension, but it is no use.
I turn suddenly on Dante. “What am I fighting? A dragon? A horde of demons? Half the Assassins of Belladonna at once?”
Dante lets out a long whistle. “That’s quite the list, but I fear it’s worse than that.” A cocky smile grows on his face, but something else flashes in his eyes. Profound sadness? Regret? He continues before I can work it out. “You are fighting me. To the death.”
My entire body freezes as I stare at him in shock. I don’t even know how to kill his kind, and I really, really don’t want to slaughter this man.
“The final trial is the student killing their guide?”
He slaps me on the shoulder as he passes me. “No. The final trial is killing a member of the Wild Hunt.” He turns back for his final blow. “I told you when we met, Aldrin, you are a dead man walking.”
I gawk at him.
I had no idea he was a member of the…
Fuck.
The Wild Hunt is infamous for their brutality and ability on the battlefield.
A single member is said to be able to wipe out a legion.
There is a reason why they are legends of horror stories and nightmares in my court.
And the man I have been dining with every night and forced to trust each time he poisoned me is one of their number.
From the whispers I have gathered during my time at the Haven of Death, I have discovered that the Wild Hunt are not only an elite force that are the best of the best of the Assassins of Belladonna, but that most of them helped begin this league. I had no idea Dante was so high up in their ranks.
For the first time since I arrived here, true fear grips me.
Not just the kind that turns the blood to ice and weakens the mind.
I cannot move. I can’t breathe. There is so much weight on my shoulders, so many people who need me, that I cannot die here.
I will not leave Keira in the clutches of my enemies, to be tormented every single day of her long life.
Those voices coming from the stands intensify, calling for my blood in growls, snarls and shouts that suddenly deafen me. I have to follow through with the trial or they will cut me down, right here on these steps, but I am frozen in place.
You can do this, Aldrin. Keira’s voice is soft in my head, light and encouraging, as she tries to hide the tremor.
They don’t know you and your true strengths.
I will watch your back. You have fought greater odds and worse battles than this.
Do not let childhood fables and exaggerations cripple you now.
Wild Hunt or not, Dante is still just a man. Treat him as such.
She sends so much faith down the bond it jolts straight to my brain and has me moving again.
I step into the arena at Dante’s side and the crowd goes wild. All those screaming agents of death in a full circle around me are incredibly overwhelming. They are a mixture of high fae and low fae Nightmares, some looking akin to myself and others with exposed bone, fangs and claws.
Dante takes my arm and raises it above my head. “It has been years since anyone has survived to the final trial! I present Aldrin, exiled King of the Spring Court. May the darkness bless him and bring him into our ranks.”
I stare at Dante, dumbfounded. How can he refer so cheerfully to his own death?
A woman in black armor adorned with scales and hugging her body like a glove steps forward on a grand balcony. The entire crowd falls silent as she raises a hand. Even Dante stares up at her with admiration. Her hair is most peculiar; one side is stark white and the other inky black.
The Mistress of the Assassins of Belladonna.
She is the main founder and leader of the realm’s most deadly force. The infamous elite warrior I need to kill in a duel to win control of her army. After a heartbeat, a man joins her, but I don’t spare a glance for him.
Her voice booms across the space. “Let us witness the might of this candidate and judge whether he is worthy to join our ranks. I declare this ceremony as Aldrin’s final trial. Take your places on the arena floor. Is the candidate satisfied with his weapons and armor?”
I realize she is talking to me. Dante is off to the side at a stand overflowing with a variety of weapons, having his armor fitted. I already have an arsenal strapped to me, and I sleep in my armor these days. I give a curt nod, taking a place within the walled fighting ring.
Dante smirks as he approaches with a huge, curving blade resting against his shoulder.
His armor is menacing, to say the least: segmented black panels of a material that looks like many overlapping tentacles of obsidian.
An enchanted blue light emits from each joint.
Great spikes of blackened bone jut up from his shoulder guards, along his arms and at his knees, and a decorative white ribcage adorns his chest.
The mass of his long hair is pulled back in a leather strap. When he puts on a helmet fashioned into a black skull with crevices for his two curling horns to poke through, I feel underdressed.
The image he strikes is fucking intimidating. He looks the part of a member of the Wild Hunt. My mind still reels from the fact.
I crack my neck from side to side, then pull my sword from my back, brimming with power.
My crown of horns materializes as I prepare myself for battle.
My fingers blacken and become tipped with claws.
I don’t need to look in a mirror to know the black streaks of war paint will now be visible on my face.
The crowd cheers at the exposure of my primal form. Only the most powerful of the high fae have one. I guess it makes me look more like the Nightmares in the audience.
“How would you like to die, Aldrin?” Dante calls out to me.
“I don’t plan on dying today,” I snarl back.
“Aldrin, King of the Spring Court, when the sand in this hourglass runs out, your time is up,” the Mistress calls out, gesturing toward a massive hourglass in a frame.
Two high fae hold it between them and turn it in a swift motion.
I estimate I have half an hour to win this trial.
“Fight well and good luck. Let the trial begin!” A gong rings with her words.
We begin to circle each other.
“Why the hourglass?” I ask Dante.
His lips press into a thin line. “If you don’t kill me by the time the sand runs out, the entire horde of assassins in the audience will erupt out of their seats, spill onto the fighting floor and rip you apart between them. Neither of us wants that.”
A fresh wave of horror runs through me.
I don’t spare a glance at the array of monsters calling for my blood.I can’t. It will undo me.
Instead, I focus everything I have on destroying the man before me.
He lunges at me and our swords spark as they slide along each other, the metal screeching.
They clash several more times as I retreat backward under the force of his blows that have tremors rippling through my arms. The wind kicks up around us, flicking sand with it, as we each use air wields to strengthen our attacks.
We pull away from each other, panting.
Dante charges back at me.
Each step lifts him higher above the ground as he races up platforms of hardened air, until he is multiple feet above me.
Then he leaps down, sword swinging in an overhead attack to slice me through.
The power of his full body weight is behind that blow, and when his blade clashes with mine, it is enough to drag my feet backward.
I surge raw energy through my weapon and shatter his, the metal pieces flying away from us in an arc.