by Reid, Stacy
“Are we spying tonight?”
Tehdra observed him coolly. “I am merely curious about the man who aided me.”
“You saved my king from a possible death blow, so do not be surprised that his blades will aid you in any way. Despite that you continually deceive.”
“I do not deceive.”
“No whispers of a spy from Aria reached my ears. I am confident my informant would never tempt death by lying to me.”
“Ah yes…the torturer. From whence do you think I hail, if not Aria?”
His flat gaze ensnared her, and her breath caught at the beauty of his eyes. She read a message in them though, one that assured her he spared her life for a reason. She glanced at the sky, judging the sun, something she had learned to do aptly. Hours remained before it sank. She wanted to delve deeper and understand the darkness inside of Acheron, the one that so clearly peeked out of his eyes.
“Why do you not take your suspicions to the king?” she murmured, assessing him.
“I do not trouble my liege with trivial matters, and it would be a folly to assume that his thoughts are not the same as his blades.”
“Trivial? Is not his protection of paramount importance?”
Acheron’s soft laughter ran right over her. He was dangerous as a warrior and as a handsome man. Tehdra gritted her teeth, uncomfortable in admiring the sheer sensuality he reeked of.
“You live because you do not wish my king harm. We do not accept your story. Do not believe that Ajali accepts that his kingdom of alliance has sent a spy to infiltrate his kingdom.”
“Then why I am not in chains? Under your tender care?”
“You are not a threat to Nuria.”
Stated with such certainty, Tehdra paused.
“The minute I doubt it, I will end your life.”
“Are we interrupting?” a soft voice asked.
Tehdra slightly shifted to include Princess Xian, startled that Acheron had so engrossed her she missed hearing the other woman’s approach.
“I wanted to thank you, Tehdra of Aria, for saving my kalija. I can never repay such a debt. I hope you will accept this gift in honor of the aid you rendered the House of Haddin.”
Tehdra looked down to see a case that housed an exquisite piece of jewelry.
“Taken from the mountain of fire, they are some of the rarest stones found in Amagarie, and they are only mined in our mountains. Please accept this gift,” Xian said as she handed it to her.
Tehdra studied the stone’s sharp and elegant cut and knew she held riches in her hands. “I accept your gift, Princess Xian, but know that I am owed no debt for my actions.”
Tehdra forced herself not to get restless under the scrutiny of Ajali’s blades and his family. She smiled in bemusement as Uriah and his lady gifted her with a necklace with the royal sigil. The piece was composed of three circles of jewels. The first circle of pure sapphire, the second turquoise, and the innermost circles were made of amethyst. They glinted in the sun, stunning in their splendor, and their beauty almost blinded her.
“I cannot...”
“You can,” Uriah said. “It is only a small token of our appreciation, and you will offend if you refuse.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek.
She would accept them, even though she sought no repayment for saving Ajali’s life. Her kingdom would benefit significantly with the wealth that they bestowed upon her for an act that was selfless. Still, she would kill all that stood before her now if it would save him—smiling.
“I honor your gift, Prince Uriah.”
“Let us dispense with formalities," Uriah said with a chuckle, and Tehdra smiled at the wink Gavyn gave her over his shoulder.
She let the lull of conversation take her, the noise of the crowd a strangely soothing balm. She ached inside. If they were ever to know that a Darkan was their honored guest, all would band together to eliminate her. Princess Xian’s laughter washed over Tehdra, and she felt a sense of belonging that she recognized was false. They were aware that she spied, but her nature could never be revealed. Swallowing a sigh, she accepted fine wines, fruits, and edibles from the servants who offered the King and his guests such delicacies displayed artistically on golden platters.
She glanced at Ajali, and as they made eye contact, her heart squeezed. She was in love with him. Irrevocably so. She turned and overlooked the crowd, hiding the shakiness in her composure. Their night together had been intense and shocking. He had been right, but she’d been a swift pupil. The carnality of their loving had almost drowned her, but she and her darkness had immersed in every lick of sensual pain that had burned in her veins.
Her hand clenched around the goblet. She intended to be with him every night, and every minute of the day that she could snatch. She burned to be with him always, yet it must end.
* * *
“If the enemy watches, there will be no doubt to your fascination.”
Ajali’s gaze slashed to Bastien. Ajali raised his goblet in mock salute as he sauntered to the balcony overlooking the crowd. "We are filled for the duration of the games; we hold the protection of several thousand lives in our hand."
“You seek to change the topic, Ajali,” Bastien murmured wryly. “You are aware that she is black-haired?”
His high chancellor bristled at Ajali’s rough chuckle.
“I do not jest.”
“Would you have me eject all black-haired women from my kingdom, Bastien? There are thousands.”
The high chancellor sighed. “She is uncommonly beautiful, sire. I understand your fascination.”
“I am not fascinated.” A flat response that did not invite further conversation. Ajali’s lips twisted as Bastien ignored the soft warning.
“She wears stones that are only worn by the royal household, gifted from you. They’re stunning with her paleness and dark hair. I have never known you to flinch from a problem.”
“You think her a problem?”
“I see how your gaze strays to her. It lingers. You trace her face, her lips, and the arch of her neck, how she walks. You are subtle, but I see it. If I see it, the enemy does, too.”
“The enemy will only see my ruse.”
“But is it a mere distraction?”
Ajali drank deep from his goblet before answering. “It is more,” he admitted.
“You are on dangerous ground, my king.”
“Dire predictions are unnecessary, Bastien. I admit my attraction, but I have not proclaimed her as my intended queen.”
“Indeed, you have not, sire.”
“Come, let us open the games, Bastien,” he said as he clasped his chancellor’s shoulders. “Worry not. My kingdom’s needs are forever placed before mine.”
16
“Let the games begin!”
The roar of the crowd at High Chancellor Bastien's announcement almost deafened Tehdra. Excitement surged inside her as she beheld the Coliseum. Ajali's opening speech had held the crowd enthralled. Nary had a whisper of sound blended with the smooth eloquence of his voice as he welcomed all to the kingdom of Nuria and the Games of Fyre.
Bastien had then addressed the audience, reading the contestants’ kingdoms and the houses they represented from a scroll. Hundreds of names had been read. With each name Bastien announced, the contestant entered the Coliseum and arena with a blazing demonstration of power.
Kilrin of the House of Alaois from Caleum, the kingdom of water, entered the Coliseum on a tidal wave. He had an earthenware jug attached to his back where, after wielding his element in a dazzling display, he stored the water.
Bathilda of the house of Thalame, Kingdom of Nuria, sauntered in with fire coating her like a halo. It shimmered and danced, and with a roar of flames, they took the shape of tigers roaring in the air.
“His sister,” Gavyn murmured at her swift look at Quinn as his house was announced.
Karna of the House of Lothar from Boreas, the kingdom of winds and mountains, entered with a whirlwind circling her tightly like a cycl
one, and its violence could be felt from where Tehdra sat. The wind ruffled nothing on the Coliseum, testifying to the extent of her control.
Only Mevia and the Darkage had no contestants competing in the games. Darkans, she had not expected to be present; they had not been invited to other nations’ games for thousands of years.
With all the contestants forming a perfect line in the center of the coliseum battle arena, dancers from Nuria opened the games with beautifully executed moves, dancing to the pulse and cackle of flames around them. Banners bearing the sigil of the House of Haddin streamed around them, painting the dancers with their multitude of fieriness. But it had been the singer who had mesmerized the crowd. Her voice, pure and beautiful, resonated throughout the Coliseum, powerful in its intensity.
Hours had passed since the Games of Fyre opened. There were seven circles of challenges to pass before the winners were declared. The first tested their endurance, the second, their stealth in approaching the enemy, the third, their acumen at deception, the fourth, their taijiu skills. The fifth measured the proficiency of how they wielded their elements; the sixth circle was a test of loyalty, and the seventh and final evaluated warfare, combining all elements integral to a warrior.
Each level examined the strength of each warrior. There was no elimination—each contestant had to endure all the challenges. The five warriors that displayed honed chakra strength in completing their tasks at the end of the game would be selected to be a part of the Nurian elite forces, raising their status and improving their wealth. Stealth, secrecy, endurance, perseverance, and deception were the characteristics of that exclusive group.
Tehdra gripped the armrest as the first ten warriors strolled forward to assess their endurance, to determine which contestant’s chakra depleted the least.
“Relax, she will do wonderfully,” Quinn murmured, glancing at her clenched hands.
Tehdra’s laughter rang out as she looked at Bathilda in the arena. “Your confidence in your house is noted.”
A strange kind of excitement held Tehdra as she watched the ten contenders wield their elements in a dazzling display of power and grace. Fire, water, wind, lightning, and earth poured forth as they wielded their chakra to harness their elements. Tehdra clapped with the crowd as one of the water wielders wavered but he held onto it. “How long do you think they will last?” she whispered to Ajali.
“Hours. They strive to prove that their chakra strength can withstand the rigors of warfare.”
“Something comes,” Acheron snapped, tension riding his voice.
Tehdra stilled at the tautness that suddenly encompassed the king’s balcony.
“What is it?” Ajali asked, leaning forward.
“It eludes me, but a witch incants. I can feel her spell rippling across my skin. I can feel the words, their intent. Her power spills. Her incantation is strong, but she barely controls that which she calls.”
A cold calmness descended on Tehdra as she listened to Acheron. She sensed nothing, her essence buried under the light of the sun. Her gaze swept the arena, ferreting and seeking danger. Seeing nothing.
“Are you certain, Acheron?” she asked.
“It comes!” He said surging to his feet.
“What comes?” Several voices demanded, hands shifting to the hilts of their swords.
“I sense no surge in chakra strength,” Gavyn said, he, too, standing, and moving closer to his king.
“I feel nothing, Acheron,” Ajali said.
Acheron’s eyes swirled, colors mixing as he whispered, “Words that speak to darkness, that calls and bind, reveal yourself to me. Show me your will, your desire; let me hear the words thou cry.”
He held his hand in a fist signaling silence as his eyes flared with amber madness.
Prickles of power washed over Tehdra’s skin as she observed him.
“The air whispers to me.”
All waited, and Tehdra glanced at the sky, assessing how long before the sun sank.
“I summon thee, I bind thee, darkness, to my will. Bring me the head of the Nurian king.” Tehdra went cold at the words that Acheron uttered.
“It is here!”
Tehdra flinched at the summoned form of the beast that entered the Coliseum. A deafening silence descended across the hundreds of thousands of spectators. She blinked in disbelief. Two wolvyes stood in the center of the arena like specters of death from the deepest, darkest of nightmares.
Blood dripped from one of its claws as it ripped the contestants to pieces before the crowd could even process that a summoned beast in its corporeal form was in the Coliseum, in the city of Adara, where millions of lives lived for its destruction.
No, please.
War would visit her home. Nuria would not stand for such an invasion, even though it was not at the order of her king. And if Acheron was right, the beasts' orders were to bring the head of the king.
She looked at the sky and its red, fiery, and intense wash. The sun was just sinking, yet the Demons were there in front of her and thousands of onlookers, roaring in rage. They rose over ten feet tall, massive beasts on two feet. They were hulking, and the vicious fangs that protruded from their mouths were the perfect caricature of evil. The claws on their hands and feet were serrated and lethal. Eyes, red and pitiless, encompassed the crowd that was still rooted to their seats in shocked silence.
She surged to her feet in time with Ajali, Uriah, and the princess.
“What are they?” the princess demanded.
Xian’s hands trembled as she gripped the balustrade.
“Darkans’ summoned beasts,” Ajali rasped. “Uriah alert all the kingdom warriors to protect and escort the civilians out of the Coliseum. Be ready for the beast to leap into the stands at any moment.”
Xian gasped as at least one hundred warriors leaped into the arena, swords aflame as they attacked the beasts.
“Ajali!” The princess’ scream was hoarse and filled with shock at the carnage that happened within seconds.
Dead warriors littered the ground, gore and blood dripping from the wolyves’ fangs and claws.
The sun dipped, and the crystals blazed, illuminating the carnage in the arena. Dozens lay on the floor, dead or dying, and the scent of metallic blood flavored the air. Darkness seemed to move over the land, devouring and relishing every cry of terror.
Tehdra’s beast lifted its head and inhaled. Fear was hot and potent on the air as hundreds of thousands fed her darkness. Not only hers, Tehdra realized, the summoned beasts and their masters also fed and grew in strength with every beat of fear, dread, and anger that spilled from the crowd.
The violence of the emotions that hammered through her was visceral. The psychic leash she had on her demon shifted and the need for destruction bled in her veins.
“Create the barrier,” Ajali said, rage riding his voice hard and deep.
Yes, her beast hissed.
It was bloated and drunk on the overwhelming terror. Ajali’s fury washed over her and filled her with pleasure. He glanced at Tehdra, and she inhaled sharply. Green orbs no longer stared at her; pits of flames replaced his eyes. Heat rippled, and the air contracted around him as his swords, unsheathed and in his hands, became aflame. The chains that wrapped around the hilt were now coated in molten flames and wrapped around his arms up to his elbows.
Tehdra screamed in tandem with Xian when he leaped from the gallery over two hundred feet and landed in the arena facing the Darkans and their summoned beasts.
Tehdra gripped the railing hard, and she heard a crack.
Ajali fought summoned demons alone. Every warrior that entered the arena had been destroyed.
Protect, a sibilant hiss filled with madness scraped and battered against her mind.
“High Chancellor Bastien, create the barrier now!” Uriah commanded.
With speed and efficiency, warriors waved their hands, and the soft glow of chakra expanded and surrounded the fighting arena.
“What’s happening?” she dem
anded hoarsely. The need to bloodlet beat inside of her like a war drum.
“It’s a barrier made of pure energy,” Gavyn answered. “It will protect us from Ajali’s flames.”
She glanced down and almost flinched from the brightness of Ajali’s flames. It surrounded him like a fiery halo. Powerful, destructive, its beauty was enthralling, seductive and deceptive in equal measure.
The body of the fallen warrior closest to him incinerated to ash and blew away with the wind without Ajali even touching him.
Her beast stilled at the display of power. The rage it touched inside of him made her tremble. The outside of it burned hot and harsh, but at its core was something cold and malevolent. Her darkness lunged to meet with similar darkness.
It hissed and scraped against her mind.
Ours.
Ajali had something buried inside of him. It was not a demon; she would have sensed it, and they would have connected and bonded, darkness to darkness, and beast to beast.
“What does he have?” she asked, her voice a raspy hiss as the tenuous hold she had on her beast trembled.
Gavyn glanced hard at her.
“He is a descendant of the line of Phoenyx.”
He housed a Phoenyx, the undying flame that can be reborn from its ashes over and over—a true representation of eternal flames. She had never seen one, only heard whispers, and he had the spirit of one bonded with him.
The crowd roared in panic, and the warriors worked relentlessly to empty the coliseum of the civilians. She understood their actions. If Ajali were to lose control of his flames, he could turn them all to ash in mere minutes. And if the beasts were to jump from the arena into the crowd, thousands of civilians would die.
She wondered at the glorious beauty of the flames around him. The massive oak tree that stood only a few feet from the outskirts of the coliseum withered and turned to black ash as Ajali’s heat reached it. It did not catch fire and burn out. It merely turned to ash. Tehdra instinctively understood that only a portion of his power had been unleashed.
