by Jaymin Eve
I throw a glance back at Jasper and the male he’s now fighting one on one. Jasper is light on his feet and the other male is tiring fast. At least it’s now a fair fight.
I step over the fallen male on my way to Rhydian, advancing on him behind his protective boulder. From across the room, Baelen suddenly increases his attack strategy against the male he’s fighting. Every angry frown he casts in my direction tells me he wants me to stay with Jasper, but what Garrett told me drives me on. The males were ordered to take Baelen out of the competition. I’m not going to let that happen.
I round on Rhydian. “You don’t get to sit this out waiting for everyone else to yield.”
“Just waiting for you to come to me,” Rhydian says without budging. “I figured you would eventually.”
I grip the dagger in one hand and the sword in the other so tight that my knuckles turn white. I circle around the boulder to find that he’s clasping a dagger in each hand.
I’m three feet away from him when he suddenly shouts. “Now!”
There’s a flicker of movement from the side of the arena closest to me. The two males who crawled over there have nocked arrows into their bows. I frown, not sure what they’re aiming at because they don’t seem to be pointing at me. They let loose and the arrows fly harmlessly to either side of me, easily missing my torso, but too late I realize their real targets…
My hands!
No! Pain explodes through my fingers as the arrows nick them. The wounds are only grazes but I can’t stop the reflex…
My fingers open. I drop both my weapons. The lightning spirals away from me, draining away without the steel to harness it. The Storm’s power goes with it.
I drop and stretch for the steel I need, but Rhydian’s on me already. He plows into me, using his shoulder and brute force to knock me to the ground, following me down to the ground. I land beside the boulder, the grass cushioning my fall so I don’t crack my head. With my body behind the rocks, I can only just see the rest of the arena.
The other males’ attack strategy suddenly changes. The males fighting Jasper and Sebastian launch themselves forward, tackling both of my friends and shoving them as far away from Baelen as they can. The two males with bows and arrows leap to their feet, shooting at Baelen as they run at him. Now there are three males circling Baelen and their methods turn savage. Swords and daggers drawn, they bait him with cuts and nicks, but their real target seems to be his lower spine—his injury.
I have to get to him, but Rhydian slams me down, his body a dead weight against mine. I jam my hands against his armor, pushing as hard as I can. I have to get him off me but I can’t let him touch me. Not just because of what the Elven Command believe but because I couldn’t stand it if he did. I can’t let Rhydian Valor be the first male to touch my bare skin.
Only my hands and head are exposed. I have to keep them away from him, which means I can’t hit him.
Lucky me. Those don’t seem to be his target.
He slices the dagger down the armor between my breasts, attempting to cut it open but the Elyria web doesn’t break. He tries again, ramming the blade against me.
I scream as my chest burns, grabbing his armored sleeve to stop him. His blade can’t cut through my armor, but the pressure against my chest is unbearable. Every blow forces the spider web into my torso, tearing against my ribs and the soft skin between them.
I kick my legs, trying to throw off his balance, but his hip rests against my groin, one knee keeping him balanced and straddling my right leg. He’s turned far enough to the side that I can’t kick any part of his body that matters.
“Get off me!”
His big face snarls down at me. “Not until I get what’s mine.”
“You insult my House!”
“Elves in the House of Mercy were bred to be insulted.”
I retort. “The House of Valor once had integrity. Where is your honor?”
His lips draw back into a vile grin as he rams the knife at my chest, over and over in rapid succession, harder and faster. My attempts to hold his arm back are useless—gravity and his sheer weight give him the advantage. Agonizing pain thumps through me with every blow and every rip against my skin.
It’s too much. I scream, pushing at him, hitting back, thumping his arms and side, trying to make him stop. But the awful truth is that I can’t stop him without touching him—my bare hands on his. He rams the knife at me again, his sweat dripping down onto my face, and suddenly… suddenly… I understand…
He’s trying to force me to touch him. He wants me to hit him, skin on skin. He wants me to grab his hand—even to head butt him. Anything that means I willingly touch him…
Sobs tear out of me at the awful realization. “No…”
I press my hands against his armor where it’s safe, squeeze my eyes shut, turn my face away, and close my mouth against the screams forcing their way into my throat. I have to bear the pain. I have to hold out long enough for Baelen to get to me. I won’t connect with Rhydian’s skin.
I won’t do it. “I won’t do it.”
“Yes, you will.”
I open my eyes. My head is turned to Baelen. I can’t see Jasper and Sebastian, which means they’re still cornered, or they would have either run to Baelen or run to me.
Baelen is covered in blood. Two males lie on the ground at his feet and I can’t tell if they’re alive or dead. He roars at the third, taking the brunt of the male’s knife in his shoulder as he slams into him, choosing to allow the blade to strike him in an effort to get close enough to grab his opponent’s arm. The other male screams and I can only guess what Baelen did—dislocated his arm, maybe ripped it from the socket. His opponents may have been trying to bait him but they’ve well and truly released the Rath monster now.
Rhydian says, “He won’t get to you in time. You will submit to me.”
My torso is on fire. Rhydian’s hateful face is inches from mine. If he can’t make me touch him, he’ll simply drop his face to mine, a single kiss to drain the life out of me. But what’s most agonizing is that he’s right. It will take Baelen ten seconds to reach me across the distance and Rhydian can take what he wants in far less time than that.
I’m sobbing but I don’t care that I’m showing emotion, because I have to release this fear and anger somehow as Rhydian’s face lowers to mine…
Another male appears above him, his outline watery through the tears and sweat in my eyes. A voice I don’t recognize says, “No, she won’t.”
A club swings down, arching toward Rhydian’s head. It knocks him right off me, rendering him unconscious at the same time. He drops like a dead weight off to the side, but his legs are still tangled in mine. I scramble away from him, kicking hard, as the male above me quickly drops the club, nocks an arrow into his bow, and shoots the final male still fighting Baelen. The arrow lodges in the male’s leg. It’s the only opening Baelen needs to knock him out with the hilt of his own sword.
I press up against the boulder, kicking the last of Rhydian’s weight off me, as the new male drops to his knees, finally coming into focus.
Eli Elder makes his movements slow, leaning back on his heels and folding his hands in his lap, making it clear he doesn’t intend to come any closer.
I’m almost too bruised to speak. My throat aches and my lungs… oh my lungs burn so badly. “Eli?”
“I wasn’t going to fight.”
“It was you… standing at the back.”
He nods. “But I couldn’t let that go on. I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you.” His eyes are crystal clear blue, his eyelids tapered at the edges like the rest of his House, his mouth set in a serious line. “I was tired and I was about to let go.”
I frown, not sure what he’s talking about. Then I remember the mountain. He was the one who lost his grip and almost fell to his death.
He says, “I heard your voice and it saved my life. So I want you to know that I don’t agree with what the Elven Command is doing—what my
grandfather’s doing. He’s always been difficult, but he’s never been like this before. Something’s got a hold of him. He isn’t himself. None of them are.”
“Get away from her!” Baelen appears, chest heaving, sword bloody, pointing it at Eli.
Eli rises to his feet, his hands splayed out to show he isn’t a threat. He holds his bow lightly between his thumb and forefinger, letting it swing to make it clear he doesn’t intend to use it. “If you need my help, Princess, call on me. Until then…”
He drops his bow to the floor and raises his voice. “The House of Elder yields!” He nudges Rhydian with the tip of his boot. “So does the House of Valor. May it regain its dignity in times to come.”
He retreats to the side as Baelen drops to me, his hands swilling over me but never making contact. “Are you hurt?”
I don’t know how to answer. Pain thrums through every nerve in my chest but I need to peel off my armor to know how much damage has been done. What scares me more is the way Bae’s hands shake. He’s either in shock or he’s moving on pure adrenaline alone. Beneath the blood, his face is far too pale, his movements erratic. He’s lost a lot of blood and everything screams at me that he needs help but he won’t seek it until I answer him.
“No, I’m fine,” I whisper the lie and I know he doesn’t believe me, but what else can I say? I’m not dead. Rhydian didn’t touch me. Those are the important parts.
Up on the dais, the last grain of sand slides through the hourglass and a trumpet blares. Five males are still standing. The two that cornered Jasper and Sebastian both jump away from them, hands raised, their job done. The others are either unconscious or have already yielded.
Other than the final note of the trumpet, the arena is deathly silent. Up high, in the viewing levels, female elves stand on their feet, watching me, watching Baelen, watching the Elven Command. One of the females, dressed in fine robes, suddenly strides forward, her movements graceful but full of power. The others make way for her, making it clear she’s a female of high position. As she approaches the shield I recognize her as Sebastian’s mother from the House of Splendor. Teilo Splendor, one of the Elven Commanders, is her father.
In one swift move she slams her fist against the shield, holding it there, glaring at her father. Her mouth moves but I can’t hear what she says. Then she turns and strides from the arena. One by one, the other females follow her, thumping their fists against the shield before turning their backs on the Command.
Sebastian and Jasper appear at my side. Sebastian’s expression is filled with regret and sadness. “My mother’s right. We don’t treat our females like this.”
My only concern is for Bae. “Help Baelen, please. I don’t know what they’ve done to him, but I’m worried.”
Sebastian catches Baelen as he sways, working with Jasper to lift Baelen to his feet. It takes both of them to shoulder his weight, neither of them quite as tall or broad in the shoulders as Baelen is.
“Healers!” Sebastian roars into the quiet. “We need healers!”
Suddenly, healers flood the arena, racing to each of the champions, but Bae struggles against them. “No, I have to stay with Marbella.”
Jasper and Sebastian coax him all the way to his feet as the healers cut Baelen’s armor from his body. Each piece drops to the ground in front of me and as his back is exposed, the cuts become apparent—deep and ugly, crisscrossing his spine, some so deep he’s lucky they didn’t sever the bone.
“They fought dirty,” Jasper says to him. “Without honor. You can’t help the Princess unless you recover. Come on.”
“Go, Bae,” I whisper, hoping he will accept their help, grateful when he does.
I use the boulder as leverage to push myself to my feet. A female healer approaches me, but I shake my head at her. “There’s nothing you can do.”
She retreats with a deep bow to me.
The steel dagger rests in the grass. The only way I’m going to make it back to my quarters is with the Storm’s help. The cold steel on my fingers is like balm, the electricity an energy boost. I’ll crash soon, but for now, I stumble over to the dais, my body glowing.
Teilo Splendor holds his head low, his hands limp at his sides. His daughter’s demonstration has clearly hit the mark with him. The others… not so much.
“This isn’t the outcome you wanted,” I say, surprised at how calm I sound. “I don’t know why you’re targeting Commander Rath but—”
“Because he refuses to follow orders!” Pedr Bounty thuds across the dais right up to the shield. He’s one of the two Elven Commanders who still has a champion in the trials now that the Houses of Elder, Glory, and Valor are eliminated. “The gargoyle threat is imminent but he refuses to act.”
“What gargoyle threat?” I challenge, growing increasingly angry. “What are a few nests? You’ve hurt more elves in these trials—more champions on this day alone—than the gargoyles have hurt in hundreds of years!”
Shame washes over his strong features, but he’s undeterred. “An invasion is only months away. We need to strike first.”
“They’re not invading. They’re running away. Something’s driving them out of Erador and we are the lesser of two evils.”
He scowls at me. “How do you know that?”
I lean forward. “Because you sent me into a mountain with gargoyle nests on it and I happened to come across one.”
He sucks in a sharp breath. The Commanders behind him react swiftly, shooting questions at me.
“Tell us where it is!”
“Tell us now!”
“Why didn’t you kill it?”
And last: “How did you escape?”
I grind my teeth, refusing to answer any of them. “What does Commander Rath say we should do?”
Pedr Bounty glowers. “He says we should send scouts across the border and gather more information before we make a decision.”
“Well, that sounds wise to me.” Except that they won’t do it. They’re too proud and stubborn. I can tell by their expressions. “As for these trials… I’ll see you at the next one.”
I make it to the doors. One of the guards has the sense to yell, “Stand back!” as he pushes the door open for me and keeps his distance from the electricity crackling around me.
Jordan is right there with Elise, struggling against the guards outside. Two guards lie on the ground. Another is about to meet Jordan’s fist as she screams, “Let me through! Let me—”
She races to me as soon as she sees me, calling the Storm Command who swarm me. I drop the dagger to the ground so I don’t hurt them. I’ve never been so happy to be surrounded by my nunnery as I am right now.
“They wouldn’t let us in. Those brutes and their spellcasters…”
I eye Elise with alarm. She’s bristling. Her hair is out of place, her dress is dirty, and her face is smudged. “If they’d kept me away from you for one second longer I was going to send them to meet the ancients.”
She presses her lips together, her anger vanishing into fear. “I saw what Commander Rath looked like when they brought him out and I… I was so afraid for you…”
I can’t tell her that I’m okay, because I’m not. I’m so far from okay right now, but I do need her help. “I need to know when Commander Rath recovers and I need you to give him a message. I want him to come and see me as soon as he can. Can you tell him that for me?”
“Of course. Anything.”
“Okay, then. Please get me home.”
13
I peel my armor off in front of the mirror in my bathing room. My arms are dotted with black bruises. So is my collarbone, the skin between my breasts, and all across my ribs and stomach. The only mercy is that he left my breasts alone, preferring instead to slam his knife around them. On top of the bruises are grazes from the pressure of the knife point.
Jordan prepared an ice bath for me and now I slide into it gingerly. The icy water stings and numbs at the same time. She also left me with a pitcher of water and about
a thousand cups already filled along the wide edge of the bath.
“Hydrate while you bathe,” she’d ordered. “I want every one of those cups empty before you leave this room.”
I sip the first one, running my finger across the graze on the back of my hand. Such a small thing to make me drop my weapons, but they knew exactly where to aim. They’d planned it all in advance: how to disarm me, how to stop Jasper and Sebastian from helping Baelen, how to keep Baelen from getting to me. All while attacking me. Jordan had warned me not to underestimate my opponents, but I’d never expected them to fight without honor.
I stay in the bath far longer than I should, untying my hair to float around me and obscure the bruises, my eyelids eventually drooping, my battered body finally numb to the throbbing pain. I don’t want to get out. I don’t want the pain to return. I wonder how soon I can ask Jordan to prepare another ice bath?
Only a commotion outside the bathing room door startles me into action. Sharp conversation thrums through the wooden door. The sound of urgent voices slips into the bathing room, but nobody knocks.
I lever out of the bath and gulp the final mouthful of the water Jordan ordered me to drink, reaching for my robe. As I wrap it around me, leaving the tie loose because of my aching ribs, I lean up against the door, trying to find out what awaits me on the other side of it.
Elise sounds flustered. That’s twice today. Really not a good sign. “I know what I said, but I’m sure she didn’t mean right now…”
I grab the door handle and swing it wide. “Baelen.”
He straightens from a half-lean against a chair at the side of my bedroom, his focus zeroing in on me as soon as I appear. “You said to come as soon as I could. That’s now. I could. So I’m here.”
He frowns, his forehead crinkling, and it’s suddenly so adorable that I can’t help but smile. I press my lips together, trying to stop. “But you must be hurt. You have to go back—”
