by Zoey Draven
Her blue eyes found Kate first and she inclined her head in a bow. “Lavrix’an,” the female greeted. The balcony had gone strangely quiet and even before Cecelia appeared at her side, giving Cara’s forearm a gentle squeeze, Cara knew.
Kate’s eyes slid to Cara before addressing the female. “You must be Arvalla.”
“Yes,” Arvalla replied, her features formed into a serene expression, nothing betraying her feelings about the trial that was about to take place between her brother and Cara’s mate, Arvalla’s ex-lover who’d she’d betrayed by letting everyone believe that Devix had raped her. “I give you my highest congratulations on your offspring, lavrix’an. You honor us all with his birth.”
Kate’s smile was tight, but she accepted it with a simple, “Thank you. May I introduce Ambassador Rixavox’s mate, Cecelia?” Kate gestured to the woman at Cara’s side, who nodded her head in greeting. Then Kate’s eyes fell on her. “And this is Cara, Devix’s luxiva.”
When Arvalla’s blue eyes met her own, it was the first break in her otherwise unreadable expression. Her eyes widened briefly, before dropping down to her swelling stomach.
Arvalla’s throat moved with her heavy swallow. “Cara,” she repeated, bowing her head slightly in greeting. “I am honored to meet Devix’s mate.”
“Are you?” Cara couldn’t help but ask, not liking the fakeness of the moment. Cara had never been a bullshitter. She was a straight shooter. And there were a million things that Cara wanted to say to the female in front of her right then and she bit her tongue so hard that she tasted blood. “He told me what you did. And I would think you would have more humility and self-awareness than have the audacity to say that you are honored to meet me, the mate of a male that you and your brother betrayed…when all he’d done wrong was believe that he loved you.”
Cara’s hands shook with nerves and rage as Arvalla’s expression shuddered. They looked at one another for a brief moment, Cara’s gaze no doubt revealing her disgust.
She didn’t need to say anything else. Cara’s expression spoke volumes.
“I...” Arvalla started, but then trailed off. Her eyes flickered to Kate, to Cecelia, to Rixavox, who was at his mate’s side.
No one spoke.
And then Arvalla turned away, the silent warrior male at her side escorting her to the far end of the balcony.
Cara blew out a breath, still tasting blood on her tongue. Rixavox touched her shoulder, drawing her gaze.
“The Fates have blessed my brother with you, female,” he said.
Before she could reply, the beating of the drums stopped. Just as suddenly, the crowd hushed.
Cara’s stomach dropped and she leaned against the balcony, her hands coming to clench the stone of the banister, her eyes once again seeking her mate.
Devix was looking at her, had not taken his eyes off her, it seemed. He’d seen the whole interaction with Arvalla and she wondered what he thought, seeing her again after eight years.
Vaxa’an said something to him and Devix jerked his head in a nod, continuing to hold her stare. Intentionally, he opened their blood bond fully for a brief moment, allowing her to feel him.
It brought tears to her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. She steeled her spine, opening up her own side of the connection, giving him her love, but tamping down her worry and fear so that it wouldn’t overpower the more important emotion.
He nodded his head at her, seemingly relieved.
And then he broke the connection. It felt a physical tear inside her and Cara squeezed the balcony tighter to steady herself, stifling a gasp.
Devix jumped off the dais, onto the arena floor below. Shortly after, Pidixa followed.
Rixavox came to stand at her side at the balcony, watching his brother down below. The two males walked to the center of the arena and the noise of the crowd was deafening, echoing around the mountain, both jeers and cheers alike. Cara knew who the jeers were meant for.
Devix and Pidixa faced one another in the center, both bare-chested, sans weapons.
Cara inhaled a quick breath and then let it out slowly, bracing herself for what was to come.
Without another moment’s notice, Pidixa lunged, lashing out with his claws so fast that her mind couldn’t even process the movement.
Devix dodged.
“It begins,” Rixavox murmured.
And it began with brute power.
Pidixa rushed Devix, connecting with her mate’s body so loudly that she heard the sound of flesh meeting flesh, of bone meeting bone. A rough growl echoed around the arena and Cara’s breaths came fast, her eyes tracking the speedy movements down below with an intensity that she’d never experienced. She didn’t dare even blink.
She felt panic rise when it became hard to discern Devix’s body in the tangle of limbs. A spray of dark blue blood suddenly splattered on the gritty floor and she felt like her heart was trying to beat its way out of her throat at the sight of it.
Lions, she thought suddenly. It was like watching lions fight. Intense and terrible and ugly, yet she couldn’t look away. And since no weapons were allowed during a warrior trial, one would have to kill the other with his bare hands and claws.
Finally, Devix and Pidixa sprang free. A dizzying moment of relief assaulted her when she realized the blood spray had come from Pidixa. Devix had gifted him a deep gash in his right arm that continued to drip onto the floor. And while blood coated his skin, none of it seemed to be Devix’s own.
Her relief was short-lived, however.
Because when Pidixa went in for another attack, at the last moment, he pivoted on his foot, catching Devix by surprise.
A growl erupted in Rixavox’s chest and he leaned forward against the banister. Cara watched as Pidixa raked his claws down her mate’s side, deep enough that even from a distance, she could make out every single one, all five of them, gouging into Devix’s flesh. The middle gash was the deepest of all.
A cheer roared up through the crowd when Devix slumped to one knee, the pain evident on his face. She felt dizzy as she watched the blood seep from his body.
“Get up, Dev,” she whispered, watching wide-eyed and fearful. “Please get up.”
As if he heard her, he pushed to his feet in the blink of an eye, managing to block a kick to the chest and the pummel of punches that Pidixa tried to rain down on him.
With a pained bellow, Devix managed to get a grip on Pidixa’s fist. She heard the bone crunch as he twisted his opponent’s knuckles, breaking his wrist in the process.
A roar came from Pidixa and Devix drop-kicked him almost five feet away, giving him time to rest, if only briefly. Pidixa fell, heavy, to the mountain floor.
But he pushed himself up with his good hand a moment later.
Cara was quickly learning that these Luxirians didn’t quit, that their threshold for pain was much higher than a human’s ever could be. The wound in Devix’s side alone would’ve killed a human already.
They seemed indestructible.
As if reading her thoughts, Rixavox rumbled next to her, “Pidixa is a good warrior. There is no denying it.” He turned to meet her eyes, the piercing blue so like her mate’s. “But Devix is, and always has been, better.”
Cara nibbled on her lip, nodding slightly. And even though it took every ounce of courage she had left, she returned her eyes to the gruesome scene in front of her.
Just like Kate said, she needed to trust her male. She could do nothing else.
SEVENTEEN
HOT PAIN SIZZLED down his side, but Devix compartmentalized it just like he did everything else during fights.
He had a few moments to catch his breath as he watched Pidixa push himself off the floor of the facev. He took that moment to look at his luxiva, over his shoulder. Her eyes met his and just as quickly, he felt strength and determination return to his body, overriding any sensations of physical pain.
This wasn’t just about him. It was about them.
He was a mated male now. He w
as physically stronger for it, mentally stronger for it. Pidixa was well-trained, better than he remembered, but even though Devix may have lost some of the skill he’d once possessed, he would not allow his betrayer to win the warrior trial.
Pidixa had already taken Luxiria away from him, his warrior status away from him, his brother away from him.
He would not take away his luxiva, his offspring, too.
Pidixa’s chest heaved as he turned to face Devix. His eyes flared hot and with a growl, Pidixa launched himself again, always on the offensive, never defensive. Devix could use that to his advantage.
They grappled with one another. In the back of his mind, through the haze of the fight, he heard the reaction of the crowd. Their cries and words echoed around the cavernous mountain, rising in sound with every blow and punch and spatter of blood, like morbid music to their warrior trial. Devix almost missed the sound of the beating drums. Anything would be better than the sound of the blood thirsty crowd, especially since most craved his downfall.
He would disappoint them, Devix knew.
The fight went on. Devix didn’t know how long it lasted. Even when Devix had been a warrior, battles were mostly a blur in his mind, punctuated only by brief, clear memories. Devix had fought many, many battles. But he never truly remembered them.
And in a way, this battle with Pidixa would end the same. He would bear the scars of it, but he wouldn’t be able to recall every single detail in his mind.
All he would remember was his luxiva’s eyes, the sight of his blood brother standing next to her, the driving determination he felt, and the chaos of a warrior fight. Because it was chaos, as all battles were.
Torn flesh, exposed muscle, the gouging of sharp horns, and the feeling of slippery skin, coated in metallic-scented blood.
It was madness.
And for a moment, it made Devix realize that he didn’t want the warrior life any longer. He wanted the life of peace, the one he had been building with his luxiva on Rozun, the one where he didn’t have to clean blood from under his claws or coat his skin in healing salve every night after a training session.
He wasn’t that male anymore and he hadn’t been for quite some time.
However, he also recognized that he wouldn’t be able to claim that life of peace with Pidixa standing in his way.
Devix could sense that his opponent was beginning to fatigue. His offensive attacks weren’t as often, weren’t as powerful. He’d damaged Pidixa’s dominant hand and wrist early on and Devix could tell that his strikes with the other hand weren’t as balanced and steady and sure.
Pidixa was fading. Devix realized it. Pidixa realized it a moment later when Devix made another offensive move against him, catching the warrior around the horns and driving his knee up into his face.
Blood gushed from Pidixa’s nose and Devix channeled all of his strength into his forearms, using the power and leverage from Pidixa’s horns to throw him down onto his back, so hard that his opponent’s breath rushed from his lungs. Devix climbed on top of him, pinning him so he couldn’t strike, the way he was trained to do with any opponent. Through the mindless haze, he perceived the sudden hush of the crowd behind him, because even they knew what would happen next.
End this, his Instinct urged, high off the bloodlust. End this now!
Devix knew how he would kill Pidixa. He would drag his claws—the same claws he let grow long for this warrior trial, after dulling them for his luxiva the past couple lunar cycles—across his exposed throat and let the blood drain from his betrayer’s body. It would be a slow death. Pidixa would realize what was happening, but he would be unable to do anything about it. And Devix would watch him die. Arvalla, who was standing on the same terrace as his luxiva, would watch her brother die.
But just as Devix began to drag his sharpened claw across Pidixa’s throat, he stopped.
He heard the rough pants of his breath, felt the aching pain that tore through his side, felt the warm blood that painted his flesh. Some of it was his, the same blood that his luxiva had taken into her body during their ravraxia. The same blood that connected them, the same blood that would run through their offspring.
Pidixa’s gaze met his own. His face was bruised and bloody. A gouge that Devix didn’t even remember giving him adorned the right side of his cheek, narrowly missing his eye.
And Devix knew, right then, that he didn’t want to kill him, didn’t want to spill his blood anymore than he already had.
A Luxirian warrior would’ve done it. A Luxirian warrior would’ve slit his throat without a moment of hesitation, for everything that Pidixa had done.
But Devix wasn’t a Luxirian warrior. Not anymore.
He was a Rozian.
“I am not afraid to journey to the blackworld,” Pidixa spat at him. “Do it.”
“I do not want to kill you, Pidixa,” Devix rasped.
“Why?” Pidixa hissed.
“We both know you deserve death for what you have done,” Devix replied, tightening his hold to keep Pidixa pinned. “But I will not be the one to pass judgment. Your race will, just as they did to me.”
“You have to complete the terms of the warrior trial or you forfeit,” Pidixa rasped, a trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth.
“No, you will forfeit. Confess what you did,” Devix said, hardening his tone. Behind him, the crowd had gone nearly silent. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vaxa’an watching the exchange carefully, the only one who could probably hear what was being said. “Or it means your death, right now. I do not want to, but I will, if it means protecting my life and my luxiva’s life. Confess.”
“Never,” Pidixa hissed, his eyes hardening.
In the distance, he heard a cry of alarm, a female cry. It took him a moment to recognize the voice as Arvalla’s.
“Do you want your blood sister to see you die?” Devix rasped, leaning forward, tightening his hold. The tip of his claw dug into Pidixa’s throat and the other male stilled. “If you confess, there is a chance you will live, so that you can still protect her, so that she will not be alone.”
Pidixa’s eyes flared. For all his faults, he loved his sister. And Arvalla loved him as well, enough to protect him by betraying Devix.
“My confession means her tribunal as well,” Pidixa hissed. “I will not let her face execution for what I did.”
There was a sudden murmuring in the crowd, a sudden tension. Devix looked up from Pidixa’s eyes, scanning.
And then he saw her.
Arvalla.
She was running down the terrace steps to the arena floor. The warrior male that had escorted her there was quick on her heels, trying to catch her before she reached the base. But she was fast and she managed to evade his grip.
“Arvalla!” Pidixa yelled, catching sight of her as well. “Stop!”
Pidixa resumed his struggles against Devix, but he held him down, pushing all of his weight against the warrior. And in that position, it did not matter. As a mated male, Devix was stronger. Pidixa would never be able to shake off his hold, no matter how desperate he was.
They both watched as Arvalla raced past the both of them, running towards the dais where Vaxa’an stood, the silent spectator of the warrior trial.
Their Prime Leader’s expression was grim as he watched Arvalla throw herself down at the base of the dais, on her knees before him.
Devix heard her speak, though he knew most of the crowd would not be able to. And if he could hear her words, so could Pidixa.
“Prime Leader,” she cried softly, “I beg that you stop this warrior trial, that you spare my blood brother’s life. He is too proud to ask for mercy, but I am not.”
“There is no reason for my interference,” Vaxa’an replied, his voice steady and cold, “unless you give me one.”
Arvalla didn’t even pause for a moment before she said, “There are no grounds for this warrior trial.”
“Arvalla, stop!” Pidixa roared.
Arvalla c
ontinued, ignoring her brother, “Devix did not commit the crime he was accused of and so Pidixa had no right to challenge him. I confess to it all. It was all my own doing. Pidixa believed me when I told him Devix forced me into a mating. He was only protecting me. And I have lived with the guilt for eight rotations and I cannot any longer, not at the expense of my brother’s life. I will not watch him die.”
Devix squeezed his eyes shut, his breath hissing out of him. Even now, she was protecting her brother. Devix had been there, however. It was Pidixa that had orchestrated the entire falsehood, not Arvalla.
“Please,” she begged Vaxa’an. “Please end this. Let me have a tribunal but spare his life.”
Vaxa’an gestured to the warriors that formed a circle around the fighting floor, that had held the crowd back and at bay. It was dead silent as four warriors broke from the ring, approaching where Devix held Pidixa down.
“Release him, Devix,” Vaxa’an ordered.
Only once two of the warriors secured Pidixa’s arms, ensuring that he wouldn’t lash out when Devix let him go, did Devix push away and stand. The other two warriors flanked his side. Immediately, Devix sought Cara up on the terrace. Her wide eyes met his, but they were a comfort.
Vaxa’an’s voice boomed around the arena, ensuring that every Luxirian in attendance would hear.
“This female has just confessed to me that the crime Devix had been accused of committing eight rotations ago was false. This female claims that she fabricated the entire lie, which ultimately resulted in his wrongful exile and the stripping of his warrior rank.”
A wave of energy passed through the Luxirians in attendance. It was shock. Complete and utter shock. Devix heard their voices, their words of surprise, but he kept his gaze on his luxiva for another moment.
Vaxa’an continued, “I have no choice but to forcibly end this warrior trial after this female’s confession. I will meet with my elder council and my Ambassadors about how to proceed but until then this female will be imprisoned and she will wait for a tribunal.”
