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A Cage of Moonlight (Dark Fae Academy Book 1)

Page 26

by Jenna Wolfhart


  “I am afraid not.” A pause. “But when all of this is over, you and I...we will finally have our time to be together.”

  Bree could only hope so, but a part of her feared that he was wrong. There was no guarantee of what would happen next. She had to battle dozens of shapeshifters in order to win Taveon his crown. She could get hurt. And she knew she could get killed. It was a horrible risk to take but one that would be worth it if they could put an end to the Tithe and all the human suffering that went with it.

  Bree placed a hand on Rafe’s strong chest and gazed up at him. “I will be thinking of you during the battles. You will be the one thing that gets me through. Because I won’t just be fighting for Taveon, but I will be fighting for you. For us.”

  Rafe’s silver eyes filled with a longing that made Bree’s entire body feel weak. “I wish you did not have to fight. I wish there was some other way.”

  “But there isn’t,” she said. “This is how your world works.”

  After Bree got dressed in her fighting leathers, Rafe took her through several drills that she mastered easily. Changing into her beastly form, controlling her every movement as the wolf, and using her claws to slash several planks of wood into pieces. They were drills they had already gone over dozens of times before, and Bree knew that she would have an edge with her strength.

  But she also knew that slashing wood to pieces was far different from killing an actual living creature, even one who was trying to kill her first.

  Bree had never wanted to be a killer, but life takes strange turns sometimes.

  “Now, I need to tell you what to expect,” Rafe said as she shifted back into her mortal, human-like form.

  “Okay,” she gave a nod through her belabored breaths. She still did not find shifting easy, no matter how many times she’d done it. It took a lot out of her. And controlling the beast took even more out of her. But she didn’t want to tell Rafe just how tired it all made her feel. She didn’t want to worry him needlessly.

  “You will face your first opponent this evening,” he began. “After you have linked yourself to Taveon. His strength will be combined with yours through the magic. That means you have far more than a fighting chance.”

  Bree gave a nod.

  “Each evening, you will fight another champion until there are only two of you left. You must kill your opponent to win. Out of the dozens who have come here for the Battle for the Crown, only one will survive. It must be you, Bree.”

  Chapter 50

  Rafferty

  Rafe did not like this. Not one bit. Regardless of Taveon’s strength, there was a chance that Bree would not make it out of this alive. And the thought terrified him to the point where he could barely think straight. He was supposed to be preparing her for the upcoming battles, but all he could focus on were nightmare images of Bree’s vacant eyes staring up at him from where she laid broken on the bloody ground.

  He watched her shift her hand into a claw and back again. She looked so strong standing there. So fearless. He wished he could protect her from this thing. He wished he could go into the fighting pit for her. But he couldn’t. And not for the first time in his life did he curse his raven form. It might be good for spying but it was useless for fighting.

  In the distance, a loud horn sounded. Bree glanced up from her claw to stare up at the tiny window at the top of the domed ceiling. A slight flicker of alarm passed across her features, the only sign that she felt even the slightest bit nervous about what she was about to face.

  “It is time, Bree.” Rafferty took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around her slender body. “You can still turn back from this. This is your last chance to walk away from everything.”

  “No,” she said firmly, pulling him tight against her body. “I will not walk away from this, and I will not walk away from you. My beast is strong. I can win these fights.”

  “Very well.” He gave a nod. In his mind, Rafe knew that he truly could put a stop to this if he wanted to. All he had to do was throw Bree over his shoulder and run right out of this castle. He could take her back to Otherworld, whether she wanted to go or not. Sure, she wouldn’t like it, but there wouldn’t be much she could do to stop him.

  But he would not do that to her. Bree had made a choice, and he had to honor her decision, as much as it pained him to do so.

  Bree smoothed down her fighting leathers just as the door of the Academy opened to reveal a very tense Taveon striding into the room. He took one look at Bree, and his shoulders rose just the slightest of inches. Rafe caught his friend’s eye, and his eyebrow raised. He knew that look. The Prince cared about his champion far more than he was letting on.

  “The horn has been sounded. It is time for you to meet your opponent in the fighting pit.” Taveon’s gaze locked on Bree’s face. “You can still back out now if you have changed your mind.”

  Bree’s hands curled into tight little fists by her sides, and she narrowed her eyes. “You and Rafe need to chill out. I’ve decided to fight, and I’m not backing out. Now, show me the way to the fighting pit. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Rafe’s heart lurched, but he nodded, and the three of them made their way out of the Academy, out through the dungeons, and down the silent corridor. All of the other fae would already be at the pit, sitting on the edges of their seats to watch the upcoming fight. There would be several this night as the first round of the battles. So many would fall. Rafe couldn’t bear to think that Bree might be among those poor souls.

  Taveon suddenly stopped in the hallway and placed his hands on Bree’s shoulders. “Are you ready to link our strengths together? Once we reach the pit, there will be a ceremony. Our forces will bind together as one. You must open yourself up enough to me to accept it. If you try to push me away, then...”

  Rafe stepped up to his friend’s side, nodding. “Accepting the Prince’s strength as much as you can will give you the greatest odds of winning.”

  Bree’s cheeks went pink. “I think I can do that.”

  “Good,” Taveon said with a nod before continuing to stride down the hallway.

  But Rafe couldn’t move, not just yet. He reached out, grabbed Bree’s hand, and pulled her close to him. And then he kissed her with all the passion roaring through his veins. Because this might be the last moment they would ever get to spend in each other’s arms.

  Chapter 51

  Bree

  When Bree strode into the fighting pit, she could scarcely believe her eyes. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen before, and it filled her with a strange sense of dread that she had not felt until that moment. The arena was massive, situated on a large cliff just behind the Keep. There was a massive circle carved deep into the earth, and the edges were marked by bones that had been drilled into the hard soil. On every side, there were rows upon rows of wooden benches. And they were packed full of fae who had come from all over the realm to watch the spectacle.

  Their horns were out, too. Which was fun.

  Bree swallowed hard as she gazed at the crowd. They were already jeering and booing and poking fun at a shapeshifter who stood beside a burly-looking male with reddish wings flapping idly behind him. Bree’s stomach turned. That must be one of Midas’s bastards, come to challenge the Prince for the throne.

  Taveon stepped up beside Bree and dropped his voice to a whisper while Rafe stood quietly observing the pit. “That is Anken. He has hated me for years, and now he finally has his chance to do away with me once and for all. That is his shapeshifter, though I know nothing about him. Most likely a Wilde Fae, so he will be vicious, though his form should be no more deadly than a fox.”

  Anken? Bree swore she’d heard that name somewhere before, but she couldn’t place where.

  She sized up the competition, shuddering. A fox would be nothing against her wolfish form, and she hated the idea of tearing a practically unarmed shapeshifter to shreds. One who was most likely here against his will, much like she would have been if she and Taveon ha
dn’t decided that they didn’t hate each other as much as they thought they did.

  “But just because he might be a fox, do not expect he will not put up a fight.” Taveon sucked a sharp breath in through his nose. “Anken is one of the strongest males I have met. His strength will power his shapeshifter.”

  “And yours will power me. As far as I can see, we’re win win over here.”

  But Bree didn’t feel win win. She felt sick. When she’d volunteered to help Taveon, she had been so focused on getting him onto the throne and on doing whatever it took to stop the Tithe that she hadn’t let herself think about what she had to do. And now she had a face to go along with it.

  It made her entire heart hurt, especially because this was only the beginning.

  “Come.” Taveon held out a hand, and she slid her fingers through his. Sparks lit up where their skin touched, catching her off guard. She stared at Taveon’s masculine form as they strode into the center of the fighting pit. For not the first time, she could see how the Court had never suspected his identity. He oozed so much strength and raw power that it almost shook Bree to her core. Taveon did not seem to be anything less than the son of the King, a fact that gave her more comfort than she would have expected. With their combined strength running through her veins, surely she would have nothing to fear.

  Taveon slowed to a stop in the center of the arena and held Bree’s hand high in the air, their fingers still linked. “I, Prince Taveon, present my champion to you. She will be fighting on my behalf for the crown. Her strength will be linked to my strength, our powers mingling as one. Who dares to challenge me for the crown?”

  Bree gazed up at Taveon, caught off guard by the lyrical sound of his deep voice. His words were like a poem he had been reciting for years. Hell, maybe he had been. This was likely a moment he’d been imagining his entire life, dreaming of the day when he might present himself as the future of the realm.

  A strange sensation began to sweep through Bree’s body, starting at the point where the Prince’s skin touched hers. It started out as a light tingling before building into a full-out avalanche of light and sound. Her mind filled with a million tiny memories. Prince Taveon as a child. Prince Taveon striding through the castle, his gate purposeful and strong. And Prince Taveon, staring at Bree through his eyes, his heart filling with a strange kind of—

  Bree blinked, coming back into the here and now. Taveon met her eyes, and she felt herself gasp aloud. Did he know what she had just seen and felt? And had he seen the same from her? So many of his thoughts and emotions were now churning through her. They were a jumble, and she was only able to pick out a few that made sense. But that one...that one where he was gazing at her. It was as clear as a brand new day.

  “Open yourself up more,” he whispered gently.

  But she felt crushed under the weight of all those thoughts and memories. And the realization of exactly what he felt for her.

  “I can’t.” She quickly shook her head. “I took in a lot. It will be enough.”

  “I feel you,” he said. “I feel what is in your heart.”

  Tears sprang into her eyes as her body began to shudder. She did not know why this was making her react so intensely. She didn’t know why she felt as though her heart might explode from the fierceness of what was now flowing between them. It scared her how close she felt to him now, the Dark Fae she’d hated with the fire of a million burning suns.

  She felt as if she could truly see into his mind, and he into hers.

  Slowly, she pulled her hand out of his grip and stepped back. That was enough. She had let his strength in. It would get her through this fight.

  Anken strode forward with his champion, but he did not introduce him by name. Not particularly shocking to Bree. These Dark Fae did not see their underlings as actual living beings but as vessels to be used and discarded like plastic wrapping. Up close, the shapeshifter looked far more dangerous than he had appeared before, particularly now that his body appeared to shimmer with the unrelenting power of Anken’s red-winged fae energy.

  In her mind, she felt something soft and gentle push up against an invisible barrier she’d tried to erect between her mind and all of Taveon’s tumbling thoughts. “Do not worry. You are far fiercer, Bree.”

  But the shapeshifter champion didn’t seem to think so. He was sneering at Bree. Hell, he was practically laughing.

  After the introduction, he strode toward her with a puffed-out chest, oozing with testosterone. “Prince Taveon brings a mortal female to battle against me? You are done for.”

  And with that, the champion spun on his heels to take his place on the other side of the fighting pit. Bree narrowed her eyes at his bulky retreating back. Oh, he’d done it now. Underestimating Bree would be the last mistake this shapeshifter would ever make.

  But still...a tiny voice whispered in the back of her mind. Hers, not Taveon’s. She did not want to kill him, even as she placed her feet on the red mark and bent her knees to prepare for their battle.

  Taveon placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, lingering just a moment too long. Her breath caught as she looked up at him. His eyes held the same emotion Rafe’s had earlier, and she couldn’t help but wonder at his thoughts. They were partially hidden from her now. It was the only way she could focus on the task at hand. But she’d heard something. An emotion she swore seemed to come straight from his heart.

  “Good luck, Bree.” Taveon strode off, and Bree felt as though a piece of her moved away along with him. Had that been what had happened? When they’d bound their strength together, had she not only gotten a part of him, but had he gotten a part of her as well?

  She yearned to know more, desperate to know if he could see inside her soul. And scared that he knew every single one of her thoughts.

  But she could not dwell on that now. Lord Dagen took up his place in the center of the arena, holding a horn high as he frowned in Bree’s direction. She narrowed her eyes at him and fisted her hands. This was all his fault, in a way. If he hadn’t gotten involved, then she never would have spilled Taveon’s secrets. She would still have to fight, yes, but not so many as now.

  “Are the champions ready?” Dagen shouted the words, and Bree swore she could hear his voice shake.

  She gave him a nod, and she saw Anken’s champion give his own. And then Lord Dagen placed his lips on the horn, blowing a loud, eerie sound that crept down Bree’s spine and settled into her bones.

  Anken’s champion began to shift into his form. His body shook, his limbs expanding and twisting. Bones snapped as they changed shape, a horrible sound that made Bree squeeze her eyes as tight as she could. She couldn’t watch, and she couldn’t wait around to see what form he would take. So, she focused on herself instead. That horrible mangled fur. Those sharp claws that glinted underneath the moonlight. The fangs that made her jaw ache from the bloodlust that churned through her veins.

  Slowly, Bree’s limps snapped. Her legs morphed into massive muscles covered in a thick dark fur that reeked of blood, sweat, and gore. It only took a few moments for her beastly body to stand tall on her mark. It was the fastest she’d ever changed shape, and it had left her body aching with the need to sleep.

  But she couldn’t sleep. Not now. Because there was another creature standing before her. He looked like no animal she’d ever seen before, and certainly not from the human realm. He was half her size with reddish hair shot through with silver. Like Taveon had said, he looked a lot like a fox, one that had been twisted and deformed by the chaotic nature of this place.

  And then he charged, his sharp fangs flashing in the night. Bree moved just in time, lurching out of the way before he could sink his teeth into her skin. With a deep breath, she forced her beast to focus on the creature before her and his quick, darting movements that were difficult to follow.

  He was fast, she’d give him that. Too fast for her enhanced speed to make much of a difference. But he was also small, at least compared to her own form. One swipe of
her claws across his neck, and he’d be dead.

  Bree felt herself hesitate, and her entire heart and mind felt torn in two. She wanted Taveon on the throne. She wanted to do whatever it took to end the Tithe. But she did not want to kill. And as she stood there staring at the fox fae before her, she knew she wouldn’t be able to do it.

  So, she would have to win some other way.

  Bree dropped back her head and roared. And then she charged, her claws outstretched before her. The fox darted between her legs, but he wasn’t fast enough. Bree’s arm shot through, and her claws wrapped around his waist. Each pointed tip dug into his skin, just enough so that the fox was now screaming from the horrible vicious pain.

  She dropped him on the ground as if he were nothing but a rag-doll, heaving as she stood over him. And then she took a claw to his throat, pinning him in place. Bree lifted her head to stare out at the crowd before her, and then slowly she began to change shape. She kept her claw as it was, the sharp point still digging into the flesh of the fox’s throat.

  “I have won,” she said, shouting loud enough for the entire arena to hear her voice. “He is gravely injured, and my claw is at his throat. Just a bit more pressure and he’d be dead within seconds. But I will not kill him. Because I do not need to. I am the victor of this fight.”

  Chapter 52

  Dagen

  Dagen wasn’t entirely certain how to handle this situation. It had never occurred, not in the entire history of the realm, at least that he knew of. No champion had ever spared the life of another, and he knew the fae seated in the arena would not accept Bree’s victory without blood on the ground and a head to stick on a stake.

  He rushed toward her as she strode across the fighting pit back to her side of the arena to grab a robe from her team. Dagen had to keep his gaze averted. Otherwise, he would be far too distracted to say a word. “You cannot walk away from this. He will heal.”

 

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