by Emily Rose
“It’s not so bad,” he said. I snapped my head up to look at his face. How could he say that? He’s never been irreparably damaged by the crown. He’s never been forced to forget everything he’s been taught so that he could survive. Yes, this was bad.
“No,” I replied. The anger I was feeling bubbled inside of my chest. “I guess to you, it wouldn’t be that bad. More entertainment for the royal family, right? I’m happy to oblige.” I bent my chest in a dramatic bow before dropping the sword I was still holding and stalking away from the Prince.
“Ruby, get back here! We aren’t done with training!”
I ignored his demands for me to turn around, to come back to training. I kept my head down as I passed through the crowd of fighters, passed the dozens of eyes staring at me. Envying me. Sizing me up.
Here I was, miles and miles from home on a seemingly impossible mission, fighting for my life as the one thing I never imagined myself as: A Champion.
I hardly made it back to my cage before I sank onto my cot and, for what seemed to be the first time since the attack four years ago, let myself cry.
✽✽✽
Harvey didn’t come back to the cages for the rest of the day, and neither did Riley. I didn’t blame them. How could I? Being my friend put a target on both of their backs. They had to know I didn’t mean to become a Champion. That was never my intention. I sat in my cot, letting myself grieve over my past life.
What happened to the girl who wanted nothing but revenge on the King? That girl wouldn’t blink twice about being named Champion. In fact, she would love it. If it put her closer to her goal, she would encourage it.
Instead, I sat there thinking about how my life had changed. I didn’t want to kill anyone else. In fact, I never wanted to fight again in my life.
I had almost drifted off to sleep when strong footsteps boomed down the corridor. I prayed that they would pass my cage, that the footsteps would continue walking. When was I ever that lucky, though?
My visitor stopped directly outside of my cage’s entrance. “Let me do it for you,” the voice carried through the air, echoing off the stone walls. I sat up in my cot.
“Do what?” I asked.
The Prince looked awkward as he glanced at the floor. Was he nervous?
“I’ll give you the Champion’s brand myself. It’ll be much less painful than my father doing it, and it has to get done either way.”
“You’re not serious.”
Prince Aiden straightened his back and clenched his jaw. “Get up. You don’t have a choice, anyway. Let’s go.” His voice was much more demanding now. I immediately stood up, following him out of the cages.
I think even a storm in the middle of Sundown would be more predictable than Aiden’s behavior. One second, he was friendly. The next, a royal pain in my ass.
After walking in silence through a long corridor with various guards and heavy, metal doors, the Prince led me to a small, dark room. I tried to suppress the way my heart rate spiked as the large doors closed behind me. I squinted against the darkness, trying to see my surroundings. The Prince walked ahead, fidgeting to light the fireplace on the other side of the room.
Seconds later, the room flickered with a soft glow. I looked around, noticing the large branding stick near the tall, stone fireplace. My heart sank. There were two velvet seats facing the fire, and a small shelf holding bottles and potions on the other side of the room.
“Why are you helping me?” I asked, lifting my chin and focusing my attention on the Prince. The heat from the fire warmed my pale skin as I stepped further into the room.
He stood from the fire and looked at me. Something in his face was softer now, kinder. “Because you need it,” he said, turning back to the fire. “And because you intrigue me, Ruby.”
I hardly heard the words. My breath hitched as I waited for the Prince to look at me, to repeat himself. But he didn’t. You intrigue me. What was that supposed to mean? Did I intrigue him like some sort of circus animal? Or was it the fact that he was somehow sensing my magic? Was he insane? Did he know that I was also probably insane?
My thoughts were interrupted by a small pounding on the door.
“Come in,” he said. The doors swung open and a small, older woman walked in.
“This is Amaris. She’ll help us with the branding.” I bowed my head at the woman, and she did the same. She didn’t even try to hide the pity on her face. Or maybe that was how she always looked. She wore a long, conservative dress. It reminded me of the one my mother used to wear in Sundown. The woman had short, black hair that she had tied back into a bun.
“Sit, sit,” the woman said, ushering me into the nearby chair. “This is going to hurt, you might want to prepare yourself.” Her words were sharp, but I could tell she meant well. She was helping us, anyway. I guess I should have been grateful for that, at least. I walked over and sank myself into the soft velvet. I hadn’t felt anything this soft in a long time. I had become accustomed to the scratchy wool of my own bed.
“Won’t we get in trouble for this, Prince Aiden?” I asked.
“First of all, you can just call me Aiden. I get enough of that Prince stuff from the villagers. Second of all, probably not.”
For some reason, I didn’t quite believe that second statement. Aiden continued, “The king doesn’t really care who does the branding, as long as it’s done before he announces you at the next fight.” Of course. With everything that had been going on lately, I somehow completely forgot about the Ring of Angels. I would have to kill again, and soon.
“Right,” I responded as I bowed my head. I didn’t want him to see the flicker of dread I felt just by thinking of killing again.
More death.
More darkness.
Death was starting to seem like a giant, endless void I would never be able to crawl out of.
Amaris grabbed the long branding pole that was leaning against the stone and placed it into the fire. The red embers of coal glowed, simmering against the metal stick. I took a deep breath. This brand wasn’t just a symbol of being one of the King’s Champion’s. It would serve as a reminder of everything that was taken from me, and of everything that I despised most about the City.
Disgust flared under my skin at the thought.
Aiden walked across the small room to stand behind me.
“Almost ready,” Amaris said, rotating the stick in the fire. I took another breath, closing my eyes. The smell of smoke and metal filled the air, along with the faint smell of roses. There was no turning back.
Aiden brought his hands down from behind me, resting them on my shoulders. The same spark of heat jolted through my body. Fire. I tensed in my seat, but his grasp only tightened on my shoulders, holding me down. Anchoring me.
The woman pulled the stick out of the glowing embers and held it in the air, inches away from my body. The heat radiated toward me as I cowered back in the chair. Weak.
In that moment, I found myself grateful for the pair of hands holding me down as the scolding metal made contact with my skin, right below my collarbone. The pain was unbearable. It shocked my entire body. Every muscle I had flinched against the source of pain. I tried not to scream, tried not to grimace as the woman held it there, melting my skin. Melting me.
When I was a child, only four or five, I burnt my foot by stepping on a smoldering fire outside. I didn’t think it would hurt that badly, and it was an accident anyway. But my mother was furious. I told you not to go near it, she had said. The fire is only going to hurt you! She was right. I couldn’t walk for days as the blisters healed, and I wouldn’t go around another fire for years. It seemed so destructive, so ruinous.
Burning was an understatement. Something deep in my chest broke, shattered completely as one of the hands from my shoulders drifted to my chin, holding my head back from the cooking skin below. The smell of the burnt flesh was almost worse than the pain itself. Almost.
I didn’t recognize the scream of torment that escaped my mo
uth. It sounded pitiful. Defenseless.
My struggle against the heat stopped. Instead, I embraced the agony that pierced through most of my upper body. I couldn’t get away from this. The woman had already pulled the metal pole away from my skin, but I hardly noticed.
The strong hands didn’t leave my body as she quickly poured cool, black ink down my neck and across the blazed patch of skin on my chest. This was the ink that would turn the damaged, red skin black. I took a deep breath. Oxygen was cool as it entered my lungs. Refreshing. It was over. I was an official, murderous slave of King Xavier himself.
“It’s done, your highness,” the woman said softly with an unwavering voice and a bow.
“Thank you, Amaris.” The Prince walked toward the door, shutting it behind her. A cold chill crawled through my body at the sudden loss of heat where his hands were seconds ago.
With all of the trauma my body experienced in the past two days, I was tired. No, not tired. I was entirely consumed by the need to sleep. It was an exhaustion I had never felt before. My throat still throbbed from Bane’s giant hands wrapping around me. My muscles ached with every movement from days of training and fighting. Only now, the low throbbing was accompanied by the sharp sensation of the brand I wore below my collarbone.
My body shook. The strain of holding myself together for so long.
I blinked my eyes open to find Aiden already staring at me. His eyes were dark this time. The red rumble of the fire reflected against them, making them glow. I prepared myself for some sort of accusation or questioning about the magic. After our conversation earlier, I was sure he had more to say about it. I almost lost control with Bane, and he knew it. I wanted to ask him about my magic, about how he saw it when nobody else seemed to notice.
But I didn’t. I could hardly keep my eyes open, let alone argue with the Prince. With Aiden.
“Are we done here?” I asked. It came out as a winded whisper. My head was getting heavy for my damaged neck to support. Hopefully he didn’t see the way I swayed as I stood up, fighting for consciousness.
“Yes. Let’s go.” He stared at me for a few seconds before turning his back to me. Or maybe I just imagined the way his dark eyes lingered. The kind side of the Prince was gone, clearly. He led me out of the small door without a word, but not before I caught a glimpse of myself in a small mirror on the wall.
My eyes wandered from my pale, lifeless face that sharpened at every bone to the handprints across my neck. The bruises were dark blue now, contrasting with my skin. I let myself look at the new brand on my body, taking in this new piece of me. It was dark and ugly, which is exactly how I felt. The burnt piece of flesh swelled on my bony chest.
I was unrecognizable, even to myself. Would Jax recognize me like this? Would he ever accept me with this ugly deformity? I felt tears forming in my eyes as I rushed to follow the Prince back to my cage. I stared at his back as he led me down the hallway. How could he be okay with all of this? His father made these horrible choices, and Aiden just followed in his footsteps blindly. Like a coward. I wished I could have hated him. I wished I could have forgotten every time he looked at me with soft eyes.
But I couldn’t.
“And Ruby,” he said as he paused outside of my cage. “Your first fight as a Champion will be tomorrow. Prepare yourself.”
9 The New Life
“Thank the gods you’re okay,” Harvey said when I approached. She was the first person I saw when I walked into the Courtyard. I had taken the past hour or so to grieve over my past life, stamped away with this evil, burning mark I would bear forever.
The pain had turned into a low, rumbling throb. I tried to ignore the multiple stares from other fighters as I walked toward my friend. At this point, I wasn’t sure what was drawing the most attention to me. Between yesterday’s fight, my entrance to the League of Champions, and the new black mark beneath my collarbone, I was a walking parade.
Harvey’s arms were gentle as she wrapped her arms around my waist, pulling me into a hug. I wasn’t much for hugs, but Harvey was so kindhearted, it almost felt contagious.
“I’m fine, it wasn’t that bad.” A lie. One of many I had been telling myself over the past few weeks. She scanned my new mark with her eyes, furrowing her brows together.
“It really doesn’t look horrible, Ruby. You can barely see it!” Another lie, but this time it wasn’t from me. I felt a giggle form in my chest. It felt foreign, like happiness no longer belonged in my heart.
That was the last time Harvey acknowledged my new mark and title in the Ring of Angels. I stared at her red, curly hair as we walked the perimeter of the Courtyard. The sun was beginning to set, giving her a reddish glow.
Killing hadn’t broken me. It hardly even changed me. I was already damaged past the point of return, but Harvey wasn’t.
I tried to keep a smile on my face as we walked. The second she would get called to the ring, Harvey’s heart would change. I prayed that day would never come.
My legs nearly floated as we walked around the perimeter. I looked around at the fighters. Some were still training hard, filling the air with smacks and clangs of metal. Others were heading to the showers or grabbing dinner with their cage mates. I wondered if anyone else got along with their cage mates like Harvey and I. Riley had mentioned once that his completely ignored him. Maybe they were nervous about possibly having to fight each other. We had been walking in silence for a few minutes when the familiar lanky figure approached us.
“Nice to see you’re still alive,” Riley’s goofy voice was back. I smiled as he fell into pace next to me. “God, I’m jealous! If I would’ve finished that fight the other day, maybe I would have gotten invited to the League of Champions.”
I should have gotten angry. In fact, I anticipated the normal feeling of my temper flaring at Riley’s usual idiotic statements, but it didn’t come. Instead, I was overwhelmed with content. Maybe it was because I knew Riley was safe for now, or maybe it was just relieving to see two people actually happy. How they were happy in this horrible place, who knows. Either way, I let myself take in the feeling. It reminded me of home.
The three of us made our way to the back of the Courtyard, away from as many prying eyes as possible. I wasn’t sure how long I could deny my new title, but the last thing I wanted right now was to make friends with the ruthless posse of Champions. My first fight as a Champion was coming up. It was time to concentrate.
✽✽✽
I was not nervous this time. The guard had picked out my new favorite weapon, a sword that was embellished with stones on the handle. It was heavy, but my muscles were beginning to adapt to the weight of the strong metal.
The sound of screams and claps from the other side of the doors made my heart pound in my chest. Last time I walked through these doors, I almost exposed the magic, or whatever it was. This time would be different. I would not need Ophine’s help to survive.
“Your opponent is big, but slow,” he said. “You’ll have no trouble.” With a wink of good luck, the guard opened the doors. I somehow found comfort in the way this stranger rooted for me. At least someone here did.
The crowd was exactly as I remembered. Ugly, rich faces surrounded me, drunk on the anticipation of the fight. Only this time, they were cheering for me. They were screaming my name. I was the one parading through the doors. I was the one holding my head up. The healing burn on my chest stung as I lifted the sword into the air, appeasing the crowd. Something bubbled in my chest as the crowd went wild.
I no longer cowered away from the loudness of the Ring of Angels. I knew exactly what to expect. I was not a terrified little girl like I had been the first time I fought. My body was prepared. Kill or be killed. It was that simple.
My eyes easily landed on the King and his son. King Xavier was holding a large glass of red wine, spilling it roughly as he laughed over his shoulder to someone behind him. Prince Aiden sat next to him. His face was completely blank. And, as usual, he was staring directly at me. S
omething in his face made me even more determined to finish the fight by myself, without the help we both knew I could receive.
The guard was right. My opponent was huge. I didn’t remember seeing her in the cages at all. She must have been new. But a fighter, nonetheless. Underestimating people would not help me survive here.
I was the King’s Champion now. I was the one to be feared. I was the one the crowd rooted for. Her dark, aggressive face was fierce, but it faltered for only a second. It was long enough for me to see her eyes flicker quickly to the crowd, searching for an escape. My opponent was afraid of me. The brand on my collarbone throbbed. A reminder of who I was. Of course she was afraid of me. I was a killing machine, property of King Xavier himself.
I didn’t need to look at the crowd. I knew exactly what I would see. Hundreds of blood-hungry faces with no pity. No help. There was no way out, only life or death. And my opponent would not be the lucky one.
My body pulsed with adrenaline. The comforting, familiar heat of the fight was fueling my every movement. Attack first. Block. Defend. Attack. Her weight was no match for my swift movements. She floundered under the pressure.
The match was quick, stamped into my memory as a swift feat of metal clashing and blood spraying. King Xavier grinned at me, wide and proud, as I pierced the woman’s throat with my sword. I did not flinch as I sliced her flesh. I did not cringe away from the life I was taking. It was her life or mine, and I had a mission. I had people to take care of. The crowd roared once more, chanting my name as I stood there in a faltering act of triumph.
Aiden just stood exactly where he had been moments ago. Except this time, his face wasn’t blank. In an expression that made my blood run cold, he actually smiled. At me. I didn’t even realize I was already smiling back.
Not a single drop of my own blood had spilled. As it should be. I was the attacker here. I was the death-bringer.
The King's smile was one of a killer. I wonder if it reflected my own.
