by Terina Adams
I shielded my eyes and looked up at his towering form as I became aware of the cold metal at the tip of my left forefinger. The blade of the axe I’d dropped when he first appeared. If I moved my hand, he would see and know what I was planning. A ridiculous plan. To fight a ragool with an axe was bad enough, but to challenge a wraith… But I was not about to be clawed to death by a wraith without showing resistance.
“If you are here to kill me, then don’t wait around,” I said as I swept the axe into my hand and jumped to my feet. My actions were not as swift as I’d hoped and I stumbled forward, caught off-balance by the weight of the axe. I used my accidental fall to strike at him, but he stayed put and I rebounded off an invisible wall backward onto my behind. The axe clattered to the side of me.
I rolled for it, gripping the handle to raise it again, but he stamped his bare foot down, splintering the wood with a loud crack. I rolled away, still gripping half the handle, which was now a sharp stake. The wraith continued his silence, his face and torso covered from the firelight behind his wings.
I crawled on my hands and knees a few feet before climbing to my feet and gaining some ground farther around the fire, expecting him to be on me any moment, but strangely enough, he allowed me to escape.
“Where is the ragool?” I yelled across the fire at him, then sucked my breath back inside when I saw his face. Facing the fire, he could not hide himself. The legends told us of how fearsome the wraiths were, how powerful, evil and merciless they were, but the legends never told of how beautiful they were. I could not think of a more perfect man.
He flapped his powerful leathery wings and the flames arced as a tunnel of fire high into the sky. I stumbled back, shielding my eyes from the sudden heat and glare. A violent gust blew across my face, and when I looked again, he was once more standing in front of me.
With unnatural speed, he lunged forward and manacled my wrist with a hand so large it would snap my bone in two with one squeeze. A thick, ropey vein ran from the back of his hand and up his arm. My eyes were drawn to follow it up his arm to where it smoothed under the skin at his bicep. Suddenly he snarled and released my wrist, flinging me backward onto my behind once more.
The wraith glanced at his palm and then to me, his mouth curling up in disgust.
“You are touched by a marked,” he growled in a voice shockingly human.
“Then you’d best keep your distance.” I wasn’t sure what he meant or what it meant to him, but the fact he found touching me painful was something I would use to my advantage.
I climbed to my feet once more, the stake still in my hand. “It looks as though we are at an impasse. I cannot touch you and you cannot touch me. So perhaps we could go our separate ways, you off into the night, back to the dead forest would be good, and I’ll stay here by the fire.”
He was so eerily beautiful and human-looking, especially in the way his black eyes watched me like they could peel me apart. I knew the look of greed when I saw it and the wraith wore it in his expression like it was his second skin. Greed for my death, no doubt.
“Our legends describe you as gruesome, ugly monsters, but I’m relieved to see you don’t look much different to us.”
“Your kind are inferior in every way.” Not only did he have to have such a mesmerizing face, but the wraith’s voice chilled a tingle up my spine.
I held up my hand, waggling my wrist in front of him. “Maybe not. Did I burn your hand?”
He slashed a barbed wing forward like a cat would swish its tail when angry. The power behind the beat created another strong wind that tumbled me backward, but this time I managed to stay on my feet.
“The marked are a pestilence that we shall wipe from this earth.”
“That’s once you manage to get free of your cage.”
He pounced with speed, leaping through the air and landing directly in front of me. I stepped back but found my boots were pinned under his toes, so I fell backward instead. He crouched down, looming too close, and I was assaulted by the smell of the fresh forest breeze. How could he be wrapped in the smells of the living when his land was nothing but death?
Crouched like this, his wings became a barrier, blocking out the firelight and spreading us both with darkness.
“There will come a day soon when we will no longer be contained. And when that day comes, the world and its people will know what true fear means.” He spoke with a deep, throaty purr, reminding me of the voice a man used when he and a woman were alone, the voice Morick had used when I was in his bed. I swallowed, but the saliva wouldn’t go down.
I could only just make out his hand, reaching across the space between us. I leaned back, inching out of his reach, but he simply trailed a finger through the air in front of my face, down my neck and down over my breasts, stopping when he reached my stomach.
“How is it a marked has imprinted on you? I have never sensed this before.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
What had Cerac done? I remembered the strange feeling that had washed through my body the day we kissed in the alley when his mark glowed.
“You are nothing but human and yet you carry the protection of the marked. Is this a new magic they can do? But it is weakening. I can sense that it will leave you vulnerable once again.” The last of his speech was uttered with a deep rumble of satisfaction.
“So you can’t touch a marked. They burn you.”
In the darkness I could not read his face, but he snatched his hand back like you would crack a whip. His posture straightened, turning rigid.
“You are an intriguing creature. A human that bears the imprint of a marked, who would fight a wraith with nothing but wood.”
“It’s called survival. Did you really expect me to wait for you to kill me?”
“Death? It’s an interesting notion. And one that makes your race pitiable and weak. Even the marked die.”
“And yet your race is still caged.”
He snapped his hand out. All I saw was a shadowed blur of movement before it stopped shy of touching me.
“I would love nothing more than to bind you in chains,” he said through gritted teeth, the tension in his voice strung taut to snap. “I would teach you to be respectful to your master.”
“I already have a master. I don’t need to be taught.”
“A servant girl?” He stood and strode away toward the fire with graceful steps, a mirror of Cerac’s panther grace. Released from his suffocating presence, I gathered my feet under me but stayed where I was as I didn’t want to end on my behind once more.
“Who is your master?”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t know.”
He half turned to me and the light played with the ridges across his abdomen, creating shadows in places it could not reach, accentuating his muscular form. It was good that I could not see his face as clearly as if it were day, for I would find it hard to be truly afraid.
It was like he’d turned to stone. His eyes kept my breath suspended, enslaving me within his hold.
“Tell me, servant, who is your master?” His voice was calm yet decisive.
“My home is the arena.”
He spun away to the fire and I was released. I looked out into the darkness, gathering my own strength so that when I turned back, I could face him again.
“Where is the ragool?”
He didn’t respond, so I thought he didn’t hear me. Then he left the fire and came over to me, but looked beyond. “Out in the night. With a simple command, I could bring one here to me now. And you’re so far from the fire, so vulnerable.” His body blocked my escape back to the fire. “Do you know what happens when a ragool bites?”
“It enslaves the victim to a wraith.”
“Are you afraid now?”
“I have heard a ragool is made from the body of a wraith. Does that mean it would burn if it bit me?”
The wraith curled his hands into fists and sucked in a sharp breath.
“Perhaps I am immune tonight
,” I said.
“Enjoy it for tonight, small human. You will see another dawn. But darkness is coming for you. You had better warn your master.”
With one powerful beat of his wings, he rose up into the night.
21
My shoulder and hip ached and my body shivered with cold. I opened my eyes to see dirt. Not far away were the embers of the fire. I’d crawled closer and closer to stay warm as the fire burned itself down and now I lay within the soot. Through the gray of predawn, I looked around my bed for the night and saw bare footprints in the soil. A little farther and I found the large pads and claw marks left by the ragool. I scrubbed them out with my boots because neither the king nor Hunrus deserved the proof they desired to sway the people to their side.
I had a long trek back to the arena, and I wanted to arrive before anyone stirred from their homes and saw me still alive and untouched. I’d created a ripple of excitement through the city when I first arrived as the girl who’d seen a ragool and survived. But my friends at the arena had kept it quiet about who I was and so I’d lived anonymously for these last few moons. If I was seen now, a girl who’d spent the night outside, a girl who’d spoken to a wraith, I’d become what the king wanted me to be, his puppet.
In the still air, I heard horse hooves clomping on the cobbles heading this way. What if it was Hunrus, coming to check if his plan had worked? I ducked in behind an empty cart left over from market the previous day, crouching low and peering through the spokes on the wheel. The clatter of the horse’s hooves ricochetted off the cobbles as the horse pounded its way toward the gate. The sound carried far in the cold air of the early morning.
My knees were uncomfortable by the time the rider came into view. When I saw who it was, I leapt from my hiding place and rushed out into the street. Cerac was off his horse before it came to a stop, and I was in his arms before I could gasp another breath. The warmth and security his body offered crashed the withheld emotions from last night through the barriers I’d erected to keep myself strong. I buried my head into his chest and allowed myself the first few sobs, then snaffled the rest back in. I could not lose control here, not now.
“I thought I’d lost you.” He spoke into my hair.
After a rough hug, he released me to arm’s length. I wanted to claw my way back into his embrace but allowed him to comb his eyes over my face and body to assure himself I was all right. “You’ve cut your cheek.” He touched the wound with a soft, reverent hand. “Why are you here? Helna says she never saw you last night. What happened, Rya? You smell of smoke.”
“I’m fine. It was all a terrible misunderstanding.”
“What are you talking about? Tell me what happened.”
“Cerac, I just need to go back to the arena. I will tell you everything, but please let us return to the arena before anyone sees us out here. They will think we stayed out all night.”
“So you didn’t?”
“Of course not. I wouldn’t be alive if I did.”
He swept me close again in another warm and comforting hug. I pressed my eyes closed to keep those tears well away and followed Cerac as he guided me to his horse. I rode behind him with my body pressed close, my eyes closed so I could savor this moment without any distractions. When I saw the ragool, I’d not thought I would live beyond the night. And yet, here I was, unscathed, tucked up behind Cerac. The only place I wanted to be.
I tried to banish the memory of the wraith, his words and his beauty, but failed. He was the one who’d arrived just before the ragool struck. He’d saved me from his pet. Why had he bothered? For at the time he did not know neither he or his pet could touch me. And if I’d been bitten, I might well have been his before morning. I pressed my cheek firmly into Cerac’s back and inhaled his familiar scent. Without realizing what he did that day in the alley, Cerac had saved me. He’d imprinted on me, or something equally confusing. What did that mean?
I would not reveal that it was his brother who had sent me out into the night. I would also make sure Fednick kept it a secret. I needed to protect Cerac the way he’d protected me. If he knew what Hunrus had done, I was afraid he would do something drastic and dangerous. And the prince had his father on his side. The king would never allow Cerac to hurt the crown prince, which meant Cerac would place himself in danger. The king might want a spare, but the spare did not have to live in splendor. He could live in a dungeon as long as he stayed alive until such time as another spare was born. And I doubted Cerac was strong enough to defeat the king’s army of marked, who were mostly men not trained in the arena.
We reached the cobbled streets by the time the sun skimmed the horizon and shone a shaft of dawn light across the castle turrets and along the top of the arena wall, my home. And the welcoming warmth within my heart was a feeling I thought I would never have when looking at the arena. But this morning I looked upon everything with different eyes.
We had come to the fountain when I turned at the sound of more hooves clomping on cobbles as a man approached in the distance.
“What is he doing up so early?” Cerac grumbled. I could feel his words vibrate through his body and into my chest pressed up against his back. And as I felt his words rumble into my body, my heart felt filled with lead.
I let him go and sat up straight, creating distance between us, but it was too late to slide off the horse and walk meekly at his heels like a true servant would.
Cerac turned the horse so he faced Hunrus as he approached, shielding me behind his back.
“Out at dawn. I am curious to know why?” Hunrus said.
“Returning one of my servants who spent the night elsewhere.”
“Really, it sounds like he or she needs a good whipping. Given the servant rides the horse with you, I would say it is a woman.”
Hunrus nudged his horse around so I came into his view. I caught the barest hint of surprise in his expression. “I’d say the girl needs more than a whipping.”
“The girl belongs to the arena, and therefore me.”
“Come, brother, you forget that everyone belongs to the king.”
I felt Cerac’s body stiffen even though we were no longer touching.
“What has you up before the afternoon?” he said.
“Since when have we ever indulged in friendly banter?” Hunrus said.
“You’re right. I would not waste my time.” He turned his horse toward the arena.
I dared give Hunrus a quick look as I passed by and saw a deeper hatred and a deeper evil than even the wraith could manage. A horrible feeling churned my stomach and turned my joy at being alive into a desperate cry. Hunrus’s eyes spoke of revenge and death.
“Where are you going?” I asked over Cerac’s shoulder as he pointed the horse to the far side of the arena wall.
“The main doors are barred and will remain barred for a few hours to come. We’ll go through my private entrance.”
“But what if someone sees us?”
“Someone already has.”
I took note of the finality in his voice and kept my mouth shut. He’d made up his mind on something, and I was not ready to find out what.
I’d not been to this side of the arena from the outside. There wasn’t anything spectacular about it if you discounted the proximity to the palace. The arena and palace walls abutted at this point, giving Cerac easy access to both.
I slid from the horse once we’d arrived, wanting to hurry inside, but I would not know which direction to head once there, so I had to wait for Cerac.
A young boy came bustling out of a small side door to the palace wall and took the horse’s reins from Cerac. He led the horse away through a gate wide enough to fit a wagon while Cerac led me inside the arena and into a passage brightly lit with dozens of torches bracketed on either side. He stopped just inside and took both my hands.
“We’ve not succeeded in keeping anything a secret. You do realize this?” He smiled.
“You should not have come looking for me.”
; “How could I not?”
I slid my hands out of his. “Cerac, your brother will do anything to hurt you.”
“Don’t you think I already know that?”
“Then why don’t you sound more worried?”
“Because I’ve had enough of being the spare.”
“But how can that change?”
I’d been afraid last night, but never more than I was as I listened to Cerac speak.
“Everything would change if I fought Hunrus in the arena.”
“You’re not serious. The king would never allow it.”
“He could not stop me if I challenged Hunrus in front of the crowd. The king has final say, yes, on who enters the arena, but not even he would dare to refuse a direct challenge with so many witnesses. And if Hunrus refused, the army would revolt. They will not obey the orders of a coward.”
He took my hands again. “So you see, it is not as bad as you think.”
“It’s worse. Cerac, the only way to rid yourself of Hunrus is to fight to the death.”
He laughed. “You have no faith in my ability to fight?”
“You would not be the master of the arena if you were not capable. The tallies on your chamber wall prove you will win. But is this really what you want to do?”
“A weak link by blood is all there is between us. I have hated Hunrus since the day I could walk. He has more than demonstrated his feelings for me. If he’d been master of the arena, we would’ve fought long ago.”
“And you would be happy as crown prince?”
“It wouldn’t matter what I was as long as I wasn’t with him. And as long as I am with you.”
