by Emily Rose
I turned toward Harvey, who was staring down at her feet. This poor girl. She had to learn to stick up for herself. These girls were no different than her.
“And what do we have here?” the girl said. “You must be new. I’m Opal.”
“And we’re not interested,” I spit back. I felt the familiar sensation of adrenaline creeping back into my body. The rest of the fighters remained silent, waiting for Opal to speak.
“You clearly don’t know how things work around here,” she said, stepping toward me.
“Well why don’t you go ahead and show me, then.” Harvey whispered something behind me, but I ignored her. I couldn’t help it. Backing down from a fight was something I had never done.
The girl laughed, high and short, then pushed the sleeves back on her already tight fighting shirt. My eyes were drawn to the black tattoo on her chest, right below her collarbone. She was one of them. A Champion. Opal’s gang of fighters began to back up, and the back of my neck tickled with the thrill of an upcoming fight.
“You just made the wrong type of enemy, new girl,” she said, pulling a knife from her hip. Shit. I completely forgot about the weapons.
Opal hopped into her fighting stance, holding the knife in her right hand. Her long, black hair flowed to her waist, moving with every shift of her weight.
I was quick to make the first move, jabbing a punch toward her unguarded rib.
She jumped backward and instantly sent her knife toward my stomach.
I blocked her attack with my forearm. Yes, she was fast. But she was also sloppy.
For the next few seconds, I studied her movements. She kept her right arm with the knife near her face, guarding herself. This left her entire left side open for attack.
Jax’s words during our last fight came to my mind.
That whole tackling thing will take any opponent off guard.
I didn’t give myself time to think before throwing myself at Opal’s waist, knocking her off the ground.
As she floundered under my weight, I grabbed her arm with both of my hands and twisted as hard as I could. She released her grip on the knife, which I quickly picked up.
The knife was a reassuring weight in my hand. I pressed the gleaming metal into the skin right below her neck. Anger blinded my vision.
“Ladies, ladies.”
We were both taken off guard by the booming voice that came behind us. I scrambled off of Opal and looked up, seeing none other than King Xavier of Aslan.
“Let's save it for the Ring, yes?” he said. His voice alone sent a wicked chill through my body. I looked at him in awe. The man I hated most, the man responsible for killing my parents and ruining my entire life, was standing right in front of me.
Opal bowed to the King and quickly scattered with her girl gang. What a coward. I looked around, noticing we had gathered quite the audience. Boys and girls all over the Courtyard had stopped what they were doing to watch us. To watch King Xavier.
But he wasn’t alone. Behind the King, dressed in all black with the same hood pulled around his face was Prince Aiden.
And he was staring directly at me.
The King spoke again before I had the chance to react to what had just happened.
“You must be Ruby, then. I heard we had a pretty feisty fighter show up. I’m glad to see it’s true.” He held his head high, looking me up and down. He was just as ugly as I had pictured. His black and blue clothing hung over his body lazily, clearly identifying the fact that he hadn’t trained for a fight in years. His pale, wrinkly skin moved against every word he spoke, and a long scar stretched down the left side of his face.
Something deep and dark in my body told me to run, to scream, to attack. But I stood there, staring at King Xavier.
“Yes,” I replied when I realized he was waiting for me to respond. Smiling took all the restraint I had left.
“Well, I’ll be happy to see it in the real ring.” His eyes were black, clear amusement swam beneath them. “We could use some great entertainment around here. Perhaps tomorrow, then? It clearly looks like you’ve had enough training.” He walked toward me, reaching out and pulling a strand of my blonde hair through his fingers. “We don’t want to keep them waiting.”
I froze under the King’s touch, tightening the grip I had on the knife in my hand. With one swift motion, the King could be dead. But then so would I. And Harvey would definitely hate me for it, for leaving her here alone.
Prince Aiden cleared his throat behind us, snapping the King out of his vile trance. I looked toward him. His eyes pierced through the darkness of his hood, as if he could see through my soul. Unlike his father, Aiden stood tall and strong. The broadness of his shoulders alone demanded respect. Where the King was evil and repulsive, the Prince was something else. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
As the two of them walked away, the Prince threw another look back at me. It lasted only a second, but it was enough to send a strong message. That was not the last time I would be encountering the King and his Prince.
Something was not right here. Every part of my existence was very aware that there was much more than just fighting going on in the Ring of Angels.
✽✽✽
After our visitors left the Courtyard, Harvey was quick to fill me in on our new friends. Opal had been in the cages before Harvey arrived, but she was a known fighter in the Ring of Angels. Everyone respected her, even the Champions. She was always volunteering for practice fights, and usually won those. Opal was apparently one of the King’s favorites. I could see why.
My body tensed at the thought. At least something I had heard about the Ring of Angels held true. Still, something deep in my chest began to remind me that I really had just made the wrong type of enemy. Opal was a strong fighter, that was certain.
I thought about the King’s words.
“So, does this mean I’ll be fighting tomorrow?” I asked Harvey, trying to keep my voice from shaking. I would not show fear here.
“By the looks of it, yes. But I’m sure it will be an easy match! The first ones usually are.” Her reassuring smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. It was all I needed to see. Harvey was nervous, too.
Within my first week in the cages, I had gotten into a fight during training, made one friend, made a few enemies, and faced the one person I hated most in this world: King Xavier. I would call it a successful week.
I didn’t get much sleep that night. My first fight was tomorrow, and if I wasn’t focused, it could be my last. Part of me hoped that Harvey was right about the fight being an easy one. The other part of me fired up at the mere thought of combat. Heat flared up my neck. That dark part of me was going to be my survival guide here in the Ring of Angels. No matter how much I tried to hide it since the attack, it was time to embrace it.
I was Ruby Castiel. And this would not be the first time I had killed.
My brain flipped to Jax, of everything he had taught me about fighting. I could do this. I had to do this. My survival depended on it.
And something in the King’s eyes earlier that day told me my match would not be an easy one.
✽✽✽
“Ruby Castiel. Get up.” The harsh voice and the sound of rattling chains woke me up from my already light sleep. The morning bell hadn’t even rung, but it was time. My first fight in the legendary Ring of Angels was about to begin.
The guards opened my cage and clasped heavy, metal cuffs to my wrists. They escorted me through the long, dark corridor. The same corridor I had walked through just days before. Some of the girls were already awake, watching me walk to my possible death. Anticipation flooded my body as I moved. I lifted my head and kept my forward expression heavy. I would not show these strangers fear. I would not be defeated, not here.
When we got to the opposite end of the corridor, two more guards were waiting outside of giant, cement doors. The doors arched at the top and were reinforced with steel beams. My stomach flipped at the sight.
The d
oors creaked open, slow and heavy. “Do you have a weapon preference?” One of the guards asked. He didn’t sound mean or angry, but there were no signs of pity in his voice, either. A question he had asked hundreds of times, most likely.
I thought about his question. A bow and arrow was what I was most familiar with from hunting at Sundown, but that wouldn’t help me in such close quarters. In fact, I hadn’t really trained with weapons at all. The knife I wore around at home was really just for protection if I ever needed it. I took a deep breath.
“A knife is fine. Some sort of dagger.” My voice came out strong. Confident. I looked him in the eyes, trying to embrace the steady flow of adrenaline that my body had begun to welcome.
“A knife it is, m’lady.” He reached into a large box on the right wall before handing it to me.
“Good luck out there,” he said. I nodded in return and tried not to think about how much I wanted to throw up right now. Luck wasn’t what I needed. It was skill. Determination.
The knife was heavy and awkward in my hand. The blade was about as long as my forearm, and it clearly hadn’t been sharpened lately. Great.
I stared at the fighting ring ahead of me. I couldn’t see anything from inside the corridor, except for a blinding light from above. Or was that the sun?
Focus. Breathe.
My boots clicked on the stone floor as the guards ushered me forward. The roar of the crowd filled my ears, fueling the adrenaline rushing into every inch of my body. Each step was a step closer to getting this over with. My muscles were ready. I was prepared.
The fighting ring was empty in front of me. I let myself take in my surroundings. It was a large circle surrounded by massive stone walls. A fence separated me from the spectators. As if that would stop me. I squinted my eyes and looked into the crowd, seeing nothing but excited, wicked faces. It was disgusting, exactly how I had imagined. These people found joy in watching the deaths of innocent people. They looked at me like I was a new toy to be played with. I wondered if they knew how many of the fighters were kidnapped and dragged here against their will, or if any of them would even care.
As I scanned the crowd, my eyes connected with the Prince. In the midst of all the adrenaline pumping through my veins, my heart leaped. His eyes were the same as yesterday, blazing deeply into me. Where the rest of the crowd showed ruthless anticipation, the Prince’s face was blank. Was watching me die going to be that boring for him?
I pulled my eyes away. Distraction was not an option right now. I looked toward the opposite side of the ring, where a second pair of doors started to reveal my opponent.
Sweat began to drip down my temple. I flipped the knife in my hand, shifting my weight from side to side.
My opponent stepped into view. She stood tall and walked slowly, eating up the crowd’s attention. They were all staring at her now. She was about my height, but had broad shoulders that flexed under the weight of the sword she carried.
But this was no normal fighter. My eyes hovered over the black raven tattooed on her chest, peeking out from her fighting uniform directly over her heart. This girl was one of the King’s Champions.
I tried to suppress the icy chill that ran down my neck. The king really did want me to die, then. But she was just a girl, and I only had one job for the next few minutes: stay alive.
The crowd continued to roar as the giant doors boomed shut behind my opponent. There was no way out, no return. The only way back to the cages would be to kill.
A voice boomed over the ring, echoing off the stone walls. “Fighters, are you ready?” The King announced, dragging on the last word for dramatics. The crowd went wild. I nodded my head, and my opponent did the same.
I didn’t even look at the King as he announced the next words. Words I hoped I would never have to hear out of his nasty mouth. “May your souls rest with the crown!”
The fight had begun.
Watch her hips. Make the first move. Keep yourself protected. Jax’s voice boomed in my head, fueling my thoughts.
The girl in front of me showed nothing but aggression on her face. She watched my body, mimicked my steps. Definitely an experienced fighter.
We slowly got closer to each other in the ring, circling like vultures in the sky, daring to make the first move. I could tell she expected me to back down, to retreat into the wall. But I was no coward.
I wasn’t about to give her that satisfaction.
I stepped forward once, then again. My legs moved without my permission, anticipating every step. She held her sword over her right shoulder, ready to slice down at any second. I watched her grip, slightly relaxed. Her entire arm would flex before she would swing.
My legs danced with energy, focused on the one goal I had. I didn’t wait another second before jumping toward my opponent, slicing my small dagger toward her right arm.
She tried to jump back but was too slow. A stream of blood quickly trickled down her arm. Her sword was too heavy. She would have to be much quicker than that.
She looked at the blood then back at me, clearly pissed off.
Her right arm flexed a millisecond before she sent her sword toward my chest.
But I was ready. I ducked under her strike and brought my free arm down against hers, trying to free the sword from her grip.
Right when I thought I would have an advantage in this fight, she flung her fist into my temple, throwing me off balance. My vision blurred.
Pain.
I staggered sideways, trying to grasp my surroundings.
But my opponent didn’t wait. With one fluid motion, she swung one leg against my ankles, throwing me off my feet. More pain shot through my back as I slammed against the concrete floor. Before I could scramble for my weapon, she was on top of me.
I was pinned on the ground underneath the girl's weight. A scream of fury escaped my mouth as she scrambled for my dagger, just inches from my hands. I thrashed underneath her.
Her face was not one of a scared girl. It was not a face of mercy or hesitation. My opponent's eyes were black as night. She was not going to back down.
I was not going to die this way. I had too much left to accomplish. She was yelling now, too. A yell of frustration as she reached for the knife.
Within a second, she shifted her weight and picked up the weapon, pressing it to my chest.
“Are you ready to die?” she murmured between gritted teeth. I was all too aware of the metal just seconds away from piercing my skin.
No, I wasn't ready. There was no way I would die here in front of thousands of people. Horror filled my body as the crowd began to cheer for my opponent, chanting for my death. My ears quickly replaced the sound of the yells with the sound of my own blood racing through my body. A last resort.
A wave of adrenaline swarmed me as I tried to knock her off of me, trying anything to free myself. But it wasn’t enough. My strength wasn’t enough. I couldn’t move.
A feeling of heat began to creep through my body, different from the normal surge of adrenaline and aggression I felt before a fight. I felt fire.
Was this death? Was I being welcomed into the spirit world already? I began to panic. It was too soon.
My vision tunneled black as I gave the fight one more effort. One more great attempt at life. I took everything inside of me, every last piece of hope, of soul, and threw it at the girl. I don’t know what I expected, but my heart sped up as the scene portrayed in front of me.
I screamed as a white flame escaped my hands where I was trying to pry off my attacker. She saw it too, displaying nothing but horror on her face. Her yell of frustration changed to one of panic, one of defeat and pain.
Without so much as a twitch, I slammed her shocked body off of me, feeling nothing but power.
I was power.
I was light.
I grabbed the dagger that lay on the cement ground. I was no longer afraid. I was no longer myself. There was no time to think, no time to plan an escape. There was only one way I was walking out of h
ere.
I didn’t hesitate before I stalked toward my cowered opponent, who crawled backward away from me on the ground and shoved the weapon into her chest.
She was dead.
I sat over her body for a second, looking at the small burns on the girl’s wrists. I wish I could say that I felt remorse or grief. But I didn’t. I felt powerful. I felt good.
The wave of heat that I had welcomed into my body moments ago was gone, replaced by an empty, dreadful chill. I stared at my palms. What was that? What just happened?
When I looked into the crowd, I saw horrified faces. The air was heavy with suspense. Did they see it, too? Did they see what I just did? For what felt like hours, I looked from face to face, searching for an answer.
Seconds later, though, one cheer took over the silence that lingered in the air. One cheer, followed by a roar of entertainment.
“THE WINNER!” they chanted. “THE NEW GIRL WON!”
My chest dropped in relief. They didn’t see what just happened. They didn’t notice the help I just received, only the death of the fighter that I’m assuming most of them bet on.
I was alive.
As the creak of the ring's door pierced the air, I stood, stepping away from my dead opponent.
King Xavier stepped forward as the crowd went silent again. He smiled as he walked toward me.
“Well well well,” he said, speaking to the crowd. “It looks like we have a new fighter, indeed! The winner--Ruby Castiel!” he grabbed my wrist and lifted it to the air. A dark chill filled my body where he touched me.
While the crowd erupted in cheers, the King looked at me again. The wrinkly smile on his mouth did not reach his eyes. Clearly, I was not meant to win that fight.
“This will be fun,” he murmured loud enough for only me to hear. The smell of wine from his breath almost made me gag. Or maybe it was my body reacting to what the hell just happened. I kept my face straight but said nothing. The last thing I needed to do was attract more attention from the King.
