He smoothed out his shirt. “Fine. Where is this amphitheater, then?”
Not a word to me, not a glance. Not a single acknowledgement of this new bit of information…
Without looking at me, he crossed down the stairs, looping his arm through Richelle’s like they were already bride and groom. She leaned into him, whispering conspiratorially as they crossed out of the hall.
A moment ago, I’d had the sense that he didn’t trust Richelle, but something had shifted between them. After she’d mentioned his wife, he’d just… given in.
I stared at their backs, dreading following them. As they walked ahead, two guards closed in around me, flanking me. Suddenly, I felt very much like a prisoner.
Richelle turned back to me, that disgusted look on her face again. “Bring the whore. Someone’s got a monster to kill.”
My feelings for Richelle had shifted from pity to loathing.
With the guards on either side of me, I followed behind them, quietly simmering.
Again, I had that feeling. The one of falling from a very tall height, plummeting through the darkness like Salem had once done.
That one word—wife—had opened a chasm between Salem and me, and now I wasn’t sure who to trust at all.
22
Aenor
Sometimes you didn’t notice things were there until they stopped—like the hum of a fan, or the babbling of a stream. And that was how it was with the bond between Salem and me. A cord I hadn’t noticed, an unbreakable connection tethering us to each other, had snapped. And I felt its absence.
Salem had told me to trust him, that he’d never hurt me. But that had been before he’d learned the truth: he wasn’t going to the heavens unless he rid himself of his curse. His entire purpose in this world—to become a god again, live among the stars, and reign in perfect, peaceful divinity—hinged on killing this giant monster.
But what if there was no monster? What if I was supposed to die?
I shook my head. No, I was getting paranoid. Richelle couldn’t lie.
Richelle and Salem were striding proudly ahead of me, still arm in arm, still whispering in a way that made my stomach churn. Flanked by the guards, I walked in silence behind them.
When we got to a fork in the tunnel, Richelle and Salem veered off to the right. But the guards shoved me in another direction, to the left. And now, a bony hand of dread was tightening around my heart.
My mouth went dry. That love potion had completely worn off.
In this narrow, dank hallway, a few torches lit the stones, highlighting a slimy floor and walls. I turned to one of the guards, a man with long black braids. He stared straight ahead. The other guard had fallen behind in the narrow tunnel. When I stole a glance back at him, I found him leering at me. He looked younger than the other, with curling blond locks draped over one shoulder.
He nodded at my legs. “We haven’t had any harlots here in a while. Pretty thing like you, walking around, showing yourself off. You’re gagging for it, aren’t you? Perhaps we could give you want you want.”
Oh, here we go.
And now, the alarm bells in my mind were ringing even louder. Because Salem—for all his faults—was protective of me. And here I was, trapped in tunnel with a pair of aggressive fae males who hadn’t seen a woman’s legs in probably centuries. It was sort of like… Salem suddenly didn’t care.
“Why am I being separated from Salem?” I asked, unsure if I should still go along with this ruse or if I just needed to make a break for it. “I came here with him. I’m his prisoner, and he wanted to heal me.”
The guard shoved me forward. I stumbled a little, and fear coiled more tightly through my chest. I could almost hear my heartbeat echoing off the tunnel walls.
The jolt of panic kicked my brain into survival mode. This was a good thing. In survival mode, I no longer felt fear, just a clear precision of thought.
What did I have at my disposal? I had a dagger in my little bag, along with the sea glass. I’d brought my little comb, too. I had the smallest bit of magic returned to me, courtesy of Richelle.
“I think you two should tell me what happens next,” I said, my voice completely calm.
“Or what?” the blond one said. “Will you spank us?”
I took a look behind me, alarmed to find that three other guards now walked behind us. The one to my right had now pulled ahead of me, so they were boxing me in.
Ah, what were the odds a group of militaristic men from a sexually repressed society would be aggressive perverts?
Either Salem didn’t care what happened to me here, or he had somehow calculated that I’d find my way out of this unharmed.
“Tell me what happens next,” I said with quiet rage, “or you will all regret it. Are we going to the glashtin?”
Could they hear the dangerous edge to my voice? I slid my fingers into my leather satchel, pulling out the comb.
“What happens next”—the one with dark braids stopped walking and turned to face me—“is you take off that little dress and show us your entire body. All of it. What happens next, harlot, is you make us all happy down here.” He adjusted his belt. “We haven’t had a woman in decades, and we’ll make good use of you. And when we’re done, we’ll throw you into the amphitheater to await your fate. Odds are you’ll die… but you’ll die having pleasured us first. So you can feel good about that.”
“I’m thinking no.” I slammed my fist into his jaw. His head snapped back, and I shoved him out of the way as I broke into a sprint.
My feet slammed against the rocky tunnel floor as I ran. The angry shouts of the guards echoed off the walls.
While I sprinted, I summoned my sea magic—what was left of it, at least. It tingled from my chest and along my arms, a cold and soothing power, then shot down my legs to the bottoms of my feet.
In the cloud that formed around me, I’d bought myself a little time.
I gasped for breath as I ran. No idea where I was going, but I needed some time away from those creeps.
I blocked out the sound of their shouting and focused on one thing—making it rain in the tunnel. I wouldn’t be able to bring a tsunami down on a city if I needed to, but a drizzle I could manage. Enough to make puddles. Within moments, a cold rain started to fall in the tunnel.
My feet pounded the ground, and the air grew heavy and wet around me, salty with the faint taste of brine. I heard the guards closing in on me, footsteps echoing, as mist clouded around me.
Then the rain started to fall, hammering my skin.
As my feet slapped against the sodden ground, I frantically tugged the comb through my hair. Through rasping breaths, I wheezed out a tune. Only through magic would the tune sound beautiful to them, because I could barely sing right now.
Once again, I was struck by the sense that I’d been blessed with one of the dumbest powers. Morgan powers. Trying to sing while combing your hair was already ridiculous, but add sprinting into the mix? Absurd.
And yet it had gotten me out of plenty of sticky situations in the past, and it would get me out of this one.
It took few moments before I could feel the click of the magic taking hold, the certainty that my targets had become enchanted. As soon as they were under my spell, I had a vision of how I looked to them—a goddess, beaming with light in the fog. Now, I had the guards completely under my control.
I stopped running and turned back to them. They nearly slammed into me, but I held up my hand. “Stop.”
They skidded to a stop before me, and silence fell over the tunnel, broken only by our gasps for breath.
Now, I was in charge.
I raised my hand again and thinned some of the fog so I could see their faces. When the mist receded, I found the five fae guards staring at me—in awe, this time.
Time to get some real answers.
23
Aenor
I pointed at the guard with the long black braids. “You—tell me where we’re heading in this tunnel.”
&
nbsp; “To the amphitheater, just like Richelle said. She can’t lie.”
Perhaps… but she still didn’t seem trustworthy.
“And what will happen at the amphitheater?” I asked.
He fell to his knees, raising his hands to me like I was divine. “We mean you no harm, beautiful one.”
“Good,” I said. “Now punch yourself in the face.”
He looked confused for a moment, then slammed his fist into his own jaw.
I smiled. “And what exactly will happen in the amphitheater?”
“You and Salem will enter the ring to fight the glashtin. He’s being led to another entrance, is all—the one for the nobility. You’re heading to the old peasant entrance. We only know what we heard in the hall. She said you must kill the glashtin to remove his curse, didn’t she? She told us to bring you here to the amphitheater to fight the monster.”
I took a deep breath, frustrated that I hadn’t uncovered any new information. But at least I knew I wasn’t being led to a prison. I folded my arms, thinking. “And how do I kill the glashtin? Every creature has a weakness.”
The guard shook his head. “Well, that’s the thing. This one has no weakness. You can’t kill a glashtin, or we’d have done it. It’s not a normal creature. It’s made of dark magic. The glashtin’s magic is so powerful that nothing could kill it but itself, were it so inclined.”
“So, Salem and I are being sent to our deaths.”
The guard frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t understand. Our lady wants to marry Salem, of course. I’m sure of it. She can’t want him to die. Maybe she’s hoping you alone will be caught in the crossfire. I don’t think she likes… women of your reputation, as it were.”
The question was, how much did I trust Salem? Did he really have a way out of here? Was I just supposed to play along?
I thought so. It was instinct that made me believe him, nothing more. I’d play along a while longer.
I motioned for the guards to rise, then turned to start walking in front of them. “Let’s go, my servants.”
The walk was much more peaceful now, and I had only the glashtin to worry about.
At the end of the hall, moonlight pierced a barred window in a door up ahead. As I approached, I peered between the bars at the amphitheater. It seemed I was standing behind a gate within a semicircular arena. One half of it was a curved stone wall—with two more gates. The other side was a six-foot-tall wall with a stage on top.
And behind the platform was nothing but the dark sky. Crumbling columns jutted from the stone stage, framing the night sky. All this looked like a relic of a more prosperous time in the Court of Silks.
Above the semicircle, rising high to my left, were rows of spectators in their grimmest woolen garb.
Standing in here, I felt like some kind of ill-equipped gladiator. No—more like a sacrifice. That was what I was supposed to be, wasn’t it?
I shoved my comb back into my little leather satchel.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to think through some sort of strategy.
I turned back to the guards. “Okay, friends. So, you think it can’t be killed, but we’re supposed to kill it. Is that right?”
All five guards nodded, eyes on me.
“What else can you tell me about it? Does it like anything? Does anything soothe it?”
“It likes when others die,” said one of the guards grimly. “Blood. Killing. That’s the sort of thing it likes.”
“Where did it come from?” I asked.
“One of the ice witches created it long ago. She’d wanted us to pay her protection money, and when we didn’t, she created the glashtin. Then the bitch went and died, so no one could reverse the spell. So, we’re stuck with this shit.”
The blond guard stared at me. “I’ve sometimes thought that Lady Richelle secretly controlled it. I don’t know why. It’s just… She’s a witch, isn’t she? And just the way she looks at it, when we make the sacrifices… So intent, like she’s connected to it.” He waved a hand. “I don’t know. My brother says that’s treason and I should be hanged.”
I nodded. “Interesting.” I reached into the leather bag for my dagger.
Ice witches… So, perhaps Salem’s fire magic could come into play, then. Would fire melt the icy magic of the glashtin? Maybe that was his plan.
I turned back to the gated window, breathing deeply. The crowds in the stony seats were chattering excitedly, and moonlight washed over them. I supposed this was all they had for fun around here. Fire in the sconces wavered over the ground before us, and shadows darkened the stones in odd shapes.
With a sharp jolt of dread, I realized those weren’t shadows but dark bloodstains on the ground. A cold sweat beaded on my skin.
As I gripped the bars, staring out at the pit, I realized the guards were arguing behind me.
“We can’t let her out there,” one of them said.
“She’ll be fine, won’t she? Clearly, the gods have blessed her. She will emerge victorious.”
“I’m going out there,” I cut in. “If it looks like I’m about to die, feel free to step in. But I’m going out there. Like Lady Richelle said, this is the way to remove Salem’s curse, and that is the only way she’ll remove mine. Right? You want me to live, don’t you? So, I need to help Salem kill this thing.”
The blond one nodded. “We will do whatever you say.”
From the arena walls, two round hatches opened between the gates. Seawater began pouring out over the stone, filling the pit.
Good. If I was going to fight, it was better that I fight in water.
I watched as the gate across from me opened and Salem sauntered out into the rising water. He moved with a languid air of insouciance, and dancing torchlight gilded his white shirt and his skin. Lightbringer hung at his waist, the hilt glinting. If I hadn’t known him so well by now, I’d have probably loathed him on sight. He certainly looked like a god, and he certainly looked full of himself.
I wanted to get close to him again. “I’m ready.”
By my side, one of the guards pressed his hand against the door, and magic rippled over the metal. Then it slid open with a rusty groan. Cold seawater rushed into the tunnel, up to my ankles.
I crossed out into the open, my nerves sparking. When I got into fights, I liked to do it in the privacy of back alleys behind pubs. I was discreet like that. But in front of a crowd of thousands of strangers? Not my style. I stepped out into the shallow water of the arena anyway.
From across the amphitheater, I tried to catch Salem’s eye. But he wasn’t looking at me. No, he was looking up into the stone seats. When I followed the direction of his gaze, I saw Lady Richelle. The woman was sitting in a central throne within the amphitheater seats, a smug smile on her face.
Salem returned her smile, and their expressions made my blood run cold. It was like they shared some sort of inside joke, and the look between them made my stomach tighten, like I’d been locked outside their gates.
Do you know what it’s like to wander in the wastelands and the wilderness?
I closed my eyes, marshaling my resolve.
I’d survive this, no matter what.
When the third gate started to groan open, a hush fell over the crowd. It creaked and heaved upward until darkness yawned at the opening.
I felt the glashtin’s magic first—cold and wet, like primordial sludge over my skin. The hair rose on the back of my arms. When the creature snorted from inside the tunnel, my heart kicked up a notch. Shimmering steam rose from the opening, and I heard deep, rumbling breathing.
But Salem’s eyes weren’t even on the thing. No, he was still looking at Lady Richelle, flashing her an infuriating smirk that made me want to whip my glass shard out and threaten him with it.
I pulled my gaze away. If the bull gored me to death because jealousy had turned my head the wrong way—well, frankly, I would deserve to die.
I gripped my dagger, suddenly struck by the thought that the thin blade would do jac
k against an enormous magical creature. But it felt better than standing there empty-handed.
Ice-cold magic pulsed out from the empty gate. A low growl trembled over the ground, making the water ripple and sending shock waves through my gut.
I stole another glance at Salem, but it was like I no longer existed. I wanted to tell him that he should use his fire, that it could work on a creature of ice. But given how assured he looked, maybe he’d already worked it out.
While he was busy making eyes at Lady Richelle, I started taking a few steps back, my feet splashing through the water. I was moving closer to the raised stage area, calculating that Salem should take the initial attack. At this point, he had several fighting advantages over me—fire magic, wings, godlike strength. An ancient magical sword.
Me? I had a comb, some fog, and teeny dagger meant for cutting throats.
I took another step back, closer to the stage. The splashing of my feet was the only sound in the amphitheater now, and somehow, it seemed deafening.
When two glowing eyes appeared in the gate’s entrance, my stomach fell. The thing looked fifteen feet tall, and its snorting breath echoed off the stone walls.
And as it finally stepped out of its tunnel, fear stole my breath. I was looking into the face of death itself across the arena. Its form seemed to be made of shifting silver smoke, apart from the two enormous horns that curved from its head—solid, shining in the night like crescent moons. Pale gold eyes glared at me, full of malice.
Lady Richelle’s gaze was locked on the bull, an ecstatic smile on her face. And then I saw what the guard had meant. It did look like she had some sort of connection to the thing.
I was the sacrifice here, wasn’t I?
And as she started to move her lips, the bull charged—directly for me.
24
Aenor
I turned, rushing for the stage that loomed a bit taller than me. And as soon as I reached it, I leapt up, catching the edge of the stone platform with my fingertips.
Rising Queen Page 12
