by Angel Lawson
The smell of butter and sugar catches my attention, drawing me from the gaping hole in my chest. I’m in front of a bakery; cookies and cakes in the window. My feet guide me in the front door.
“Can I help you?” a girl asks from behind the counter.
“Uh.” I look at the massive case. There are breads and cheeses, macaroons and pies. I start pointing, and the worker fills a bag. I push over the coins from my purse and walk out with a roll stuffed in my mouth. I stop, just to groan in pleasure. Money definitely can buy nice things, even if it is just bread.
I walk down the road, stuffing my face with the delicious treats, scanning the area. I don’t see anyone familiar or anything of interest. Maybe my plan of passing through the circle will work. Loud voices catch my attention from inside one of the casinos. Through the wide window I see a circular gambling table flip over, spilling coins on the ground. A group of men surround the upset gambler and I quickly move down the road, toward the port. It’s the first large body of water I’ve seen since being in Hell, and it seems significant. Is the way out of here by boat?
I start down a steep hill, cursing the shoes that match the dress.
I’m barely halfway down when the clang of a bell tolls from somewhere in the distance. From the immediate reaction of the citizens, it’s definitely an alarm. The happy noises of the town are taken over by a mad scramble.
Everyone seems to know what to do. That is—everyone but me. People rush into houses, bolting their doors, drawing their shades and turning off the lights. The music stills, taken over by the sound of hoofbeats on the cobblestone. I grab the folds of my dress and run, ducking down a dark alley, just as the horses ride through the town. Loud shouts echo down the narrow corridor. I crouch behind a wooden storage box. Wicked, male laughter fills the streets, taunting and mean. Whoever these men are, they carry torches and bust down doors. I see a shadow move across a back window. A solider in shiny armor pushes a woman against her cabinets.
“I’m here to collect taxes.”
She reaches for a jar on top of the cabinet, almost dropping it. She fumbles with the coins.
“That’s not enough,” he says, pocketing what she gives him.
“That’s what I paid last time.”
“There’s been an increase,” he replies, leering at her. “Don’t worry, love, you can pay it other ways.”
My stomach twists and I instinctively reach for my dagger. It’s gone, like the rest of my clothing, and as I’m trying to decide what to do, if I can fight, the sound of a horse neighing at the end of the ally draws my attention. With my voice caught in my throat I slink away, deeper into the alley, hoping there’s an exit on the other end. If not…
I get to the end and exhale in relief when I see a narrow gap between the buildings. I squeeze though, the goddamned dress taking up too much space. With both hands I push myself out the other side, stumbling forward. Someone catches me and I look up into the face of a grinning solider.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” His eyes flick over my head and my stomach drops. I glance behind me and see that there’s another solider a few feet away. His face greasy with sweat. A wicked smile on his face.
“Take it,” I say, tossing my purse on the ground. I know I can’t fight them both without a weapon, and especially in this damned dress.
He makes no effort to count out the coins, and takes a step closer. I can see his crooked teeth and stringy hair. “I don’t think you’ve got enough to cover the tax, sweetheart, but I know a way for you to work it off, isn’t that right, Rolf?”
Rolf chuckles behind me, and it seems this tactic is pretty standard. Money isn’t enough, they want more.
I try to calculate my way out of this, but the walls are too narrow and my dress too heavy. The sound of metal clinking behind me makes my skin crawl—it’s a belt—Rolf’s belt. My stomach rolls. The man in front of me grabs me by the arm and breathes in my ear. “He’s going to fuck you and I’m going to watch. After that I’m going to fuck you twice as hard. After that, we’ll see if you’re paid up."
My hand balls into a fist and I punch him hard in the balls, while lifting my foot and managing to get at least part of Rolf’s toes. The soldier doubles over, anger lighting his eyes, but I’ve already jabbed Rolf in the ribs with my elbow. I dart around them, looking for an escape, but I’m yanked backward by the folds of my dress.
“Ah!” I cry, my body flinging against the wall. My face cracks against the brick, making my brain swirl. I lift myself up, but not fast enough. One of the two men grabs me from behind and bends me over a porch rail. The other pushes at my skirts, lifting them. I feel the cool air hit my backside and shudder at when one of their dirty hands touches my skin. My head aches from where it got hit, and I feel woozy. “Hold on tight, sweetheart, this is going to hurt.”
I brace myself and close my eyes. There’s a chance none of this is real. It’s one of the circles, and like the arena maybe it’s fake. Maybe this is my test? The sound of my underpants ripping off my body shatters that illusion.
“Well, well, well…what do we have here?” a voice says, smooth as silk.
“S-s-she—she—didn’t have the full tax,” Rolf says with a noticeable stutter.
“Ah, I see. And you thought you’d take the extra payment out yourself. The payment owed to me.”
“We were taking her to you, my Lord, but she fought back. Thought the wench deserved a lesson.”
“Did you now?” The voice is coated in honey. The next thing I hear is the metal scraping across leather. A waft of breeze crosses my neck, followed by a thud. I look down and see Rolf’s decapitated head, blood oozing from where it had been cut clean through. His eyes are wide, frozen in fear. I hear the sound of coins clinking to the ground, spilling across the cobblestone. My other attacker winces and moves quickly away. Terror is etched on his face. “Get the fuck out of here and don’t you ever touch my spoils again.”
It’s when he says the word ‘spoils’ that it clicks. I don’t have a chance to react, because gentle hands are behind me, pushing down my skirts.
“There,” he says, like he’s a godsdamned saint, “all straight.”
Slowly I turn and see the disheveled blonde hair and the roguish grin. The perfect lips and sharp cheekbones. A well-used sword dangles from his long fingertips. I’d come here on my own, to get away from the Immortals, yet now I stand inches away from one.
One I don’t trust.
I shouldn’t be surprised. He always wanted more. Wanted what didn’t belong to him. He spent years pillaging, stealing, hoarding. He’s greedy.
He is greed.
And right now, he eyes me like a prize to add to his collection.
Anger boils in my veins. Once again, Marshal has found me in a compromising, humiliating situation. Once again, he’s saved me, except this time there isn’t a hint of recognition in his devilish eyes.
I didn’t come here to find him, but I prayed to the gods to show me a path—and this is where it led me. Straight to the fourth circle. Straight to Marshal.
He sheaths his sword and smirks at my gaping. “The words you’re looking for are, 'Thank you.'”
My mouth is dry. I can turn away now and pretend this never happened. I can walk.
Except…
Except that electricity that has always existed between me and the knight is still there. And the ring on my finger vibrates like the thumping in my chest. Over and over we’re tossed in one another’s paths.
“Thank you,” I whisper, the words painful on my tongue, “for saving me.”
“You’re welcome.” His eyes sweep over me, pupils dilating. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, reaching out and touching my injured face. “Did they do this to you?”
He told me once that he never had to force himself on anyone. I wasn’t sure if I believed him, other than the fact I knew he’d never had to force himself on me.
I brush my hair out of my eyes. “I fell.”
His e
yes snap to my hand and he grabs it with this gloved hand, twisting my fingers so he can see my rings.
Ah, there’s the greed.
“This is exquisite.”
“Thank you.”
He studies the purple stone and a line of concentration pulls at his forehead. “It looks familiar.”
“Does it? Iy was hand made for me by a friend. It’s important to me. Very important, but,” I take a deep breath, “would you like one of the others? It’s pewter.”
Marshal laughs. “I’ve never had anyone ask if I wanted their jewelry.” He studies me closely. “Who are you?”
“My name is Hildi Axel,” I reply, easing my hand away from his and loosening one of the rings. All I wanted was for Marshal to show his loyalty, and he’s done it even without knowing who I am, even while in a world that twists and torments. I hold the silver circle up and say, “Allow me to give this to you, my Lord.”
It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would to say those words.
Another explosion rocks the town, this time closer, but Marshal’s eyes never leave me or the ring. It’s obvious he should be out there claiming the goods and treasures of the town, ransacking and pillaging, yet he’s here.
“Hildi Axel,” he repeats, tugging at the gloves on his hand. “I accept your tax.”
He splays his fingers and I slide the ring down his finger and over his knuckle. It’s a perfect fit. I wait for the spell to be broken, for him to recognize me. I wait for a backhanded compliment or an outright offensive statement. Marshal’s eyes lift to mine, and a whine fills the air. I look up and the last thing I see is a flaming ball arcing toward the alley—toward us.
And then it explodes.
24
Armin
The ache in my back lures me from sleep—not that I’d ever gone very deep. It’s strange, when I arrived at the Academy I preferred sleeping on the floor. Years of battle and enslavement made the luxury of a bed impossible. Hildi had shown me something different and now the ground feels wrong.
This whole thing is wrong.
Hildi has been gone for twenty-four hours, slipping away from the safe house. We’d left her alone for hours, giving her a chance to rest—to grieve for Miya. Elizabeth knocked on her door, hoping she’d come out for dinner. She didn’t respond and again, we gave her space. It wasn’t until the next morning that the fairy opened the door and saw the bed made and the window unlatched. She had hours of a head start on us. The only good news was Rupert finding her tracks in the mud, leading down to the river. It gave us a place to start.
I sit and rub my eyes. Dawn is on the horizon—on the other side of the river. We followed it for the better part of a day but had to finally take a rest. I glance down and see both Luke and Elizabeth still sleeping. Rupert, unsurprisingly, is awake, squinting down at the book Morgan gave Hildi.
I stand and stretch, working the kink out in my back. I approach Rupert and say, “Find anything interesting.”
“Actually, yes.” He hands me the book, held open to the last page. It’s a new last page.
“When did this happen?” I ask, staring down at the fresh script.
“Overnight maybe?”
The handwriting is the same—Dylan’s, but the information is new.
Make haste and board a boat toward the river Styx.
I stare at the sentence. The one sentence that isn’t very helpful at all.
“What does it say?” Luke asks, running a hand through his pale hair. I didn’t realize he was awake.
“That we’re supposed to get on a boat and head toward the river Styx."
His eyebrow raises. “That’s the fifth circle.”
“He wants us to skip the fourth?” Rupert asks.
Elizabeth rouses next to Luke, hair a mess and a leaf stuck to her cheek.
“Maybe she’s passed through the fourth already?” Luke muses.
“Can we just skip a circle?” I ask. I flip through more pages, futilely hoping for more information.
“If we go by river, maybe. Technically we’re still passing through the circle. If we stay on it, maybe we can move ahead. Especially if Hildi was already there.”
“What if she’s hurt,” Elizabeth asks.
“She’s not,” Rupert says. He glances at me and I nod in agreement. “We can feel her through the bond.”
It’s still a strong connection—a constant tug. She’s far away but she’s alive. I have no doubt about that.
“So that settles it,” I say, reaching for my weapons. I feel better with a plan. I know Rupert does as well. “We find a boat and then we find Hildi.”
25
Hildi
A shrill whine rings in my ears, followed by a flash and a ground-shaking explosion. I wake with a jolt, the bed rolling side to side. I’m not outside. I’m not under fire. I’m…I look up at the low ceiling, then at the walls made of long planks of wood. Just as I start to sit, the room sways and I grip the edge of the bed.
“You’re on a boat,” a voice to my left says. A match flares, igniting the scent of sulfur. Marshal’s face brightens and I watch as he lights the wick of an oil lamp affixed to the wall. “With me.”
He’s sitting on a chair too small for his body. His face is impassive and in between his fingers is a silver circle. He rolls it between his thumb and pointer finger, studying it closely.
“What are you doing?” I ask
“I’m trying to figure out why you gave me this.”
I lean back against the pillow. “I should have given it to you at the beginning—back at Miya’s garden.”
Miya. Gods. Marshal doesn’t even know.
He licks his bottom lip and my eyes follow the movement of his tongue. “Why the change of heart?”
“Because I realize that you’ve been loyal this whole time. You rescued me, Marshal, more than once. Even back in that shitty circle not knowing who I was. Any suspicions or hesitation was from my own hang-ups about our…relationship.”
He nods and clenches the ring in his fist. “What if I don’t want it? What if it’s too late?”
“You playing hard to get?”
“Maybe.”
I shrug. “To be honest, I’m not sure if the rings matter anymore. Miya’s gone, Marshal.”
He frowns, the cool façade fading. “What are you talking about?”
“He’s alive,” I say quickly, “but he put himself in some kind of self-protective trance in the third circle. We couldn’t get him out of it.”
“Where is he?”
“Safe. The Guardians and the gods took care of him.”
His shoulders ease, slightly. “So, we’re down a warrior.”
“We’re supposed to have five Immortals, plus me, to draw on the power of the Guardians and Morgan.”
“So what? We let Lucifer just have it? Hand the realms over to the Lowerworld.”
“No,” I snap. “I said we won’t be at full power, I didn’t say we weren’t going to fight.”
He nods in agreement. It’s unlike any of us to just give up, even if the odds of us winning are slim.
“Tell me then, why did you give me the ring if it doesn’t matter.”
“Consider it my thank you for stopping those assholes from assaulting me, even when you didn’t know it was me.”
“I told you I wasn’t a rapist.”
“You did.”
The flicker of the lamplight makes his features sharper than normal. “What I haven’t told you is that you’re the only female that’s ever truly challenged me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’ve pushed back on me since we were at the Nead. Even when you agreed to sleep with me, it was on your terms. I took what I could get.”
“Stop,” I say, smoothing the blanket over my legs. “I gave you the ring—no need to flatter me.”
He leans forward. The room is so small it makes us very close together. “I’m not flattering you, Valkyrie, I’m telling you the truth. I’m admittin
g my weakness. You’re my weakness. I took whatever scraps you’d give me. Any opportunity you’d throw me a bone.” He laughs darkly. “Back at the Academy, I took one for the team with Roland. You hated me for it, but it was the only way I could protect you. I intervened when you didn’t even realize you needed help. I did it because I believe in this cause. I believe in you.”
I swallow and see the ring suddenly reappear between his fingertips. “I realize now that you finally gave this to me because you don’t think this ring means anything. Well, I’m keeping it. I want it. I deserve it. I claim it.”
He slides it back on his finger and a jolt runs through me, settling in my gut. He feels it. I feel it and before I have a chance to respond he presses his mouth to mine, kissing me long and slow, deep with passion. He pulls away too soon and says, “You let me know when you’re ready to admit the same thing.”
He stands and exits the cabin, leaving me alone. Is he right? Did I only give it to him because I’ve given up? That I don’t believe in the bond anymore? I do believe in Armin and Rupert. I know for certain Agis, wherever he is, believes in his connection to me. Every day I feel him getting closer, the cord a little tighter. I shouldn’t be surprised Lucifer kept the God of Death for last. Letting him toil in hell a little bit longer. Knowing Agis, he probably believes he’s finally been called home.
But Agis isn’t my concern right now. The immortal that just left my room, wearing the ring I’d finally given him, that’s my concern. I know he’s part of this and I realize that he’s loyal.
If I believe in the others, why can’t I believe in him?
