by Everly Frost
He pulls off one of my liquid daggers. His eyes light up with triumph.
“A fae blade.” The darkest smile crawls across his face. “You are not human.”
Shocked murmurs from the onlookers fill the space around us.
Christiana still sleeps, but Hagan rises slowly to his feet. He sensed there was something different about me. The way he looks at me now turns me cold. Nathaniel said that the humans would tear me apart if they found out I was fae. Hagan handled me gently before, but there’s no chance of that now. The hatred in his eyes makes me shudder. He looks at me as if I am the monster.
Nearby, Lady Ethel is pale with rage. “Kill her!” she screams.
The hunters look to Cyrian, but he continues to stroke his chin, appearing deep in thought.
Nathaniel’s grip is painfully tight around my hand, a warning not to speak, although I don’t see how we can hide my identity much longer.
Cyrian leans in quietly and drags a cold finger down my cheek, his fingernail pressing against the golden symbol drawn on it.
I freeze to the spot, but not because I’m afraid.
It’s the first time he’s touched me.
My senses explode as darkness floods my body, an assault of rage and vengeance. I try to take a breath, fighting the need to strike out against the dark magic suffocating me.
Cyrian is speaking, but his voice is muffled in my hearing as I fight the onslaught of darkness.
“If you are fae, what sort of fae are you? And why aren’t you using your power against me now?”
His arm darts out. Thick fingers wrap around the back of my neck as he shoves me to my knees. Using his other hand—the one with the dagger in it—he flings a barrier of dark light between Nathaniel and me to keep Nathaniel at bay.
As soon as the barrier is in place, Cyrian drives my dagger at my neck, stopping an inch before he would impale me.
I grit my teeth, my head bowed to the ground under the weight of his fist and my inability to fight back. “Do it! Spill my blood!”
“You will tell me your name,” he says.
“No.”
His fist tightens around my neck. “You will tell me your name… or I will burn Nathaniel alive.”
Cyrian drags me upright so I’m facing Nathaniel, ripping at my hair and making me wince. The dark magic that formed a barrier across the door has curled inward to meet the barrier between us so that a rim of magic now surrounds Nathaniel—a rapidly closing circle of dark light.
Cyrian’s fingers close painfully around the back of my neck, tangled in my hair so hard that my scalp burns. “Tell me your name.”
“You don’t want to know my name!” I scream at him. “You don’t want to know who I am.” I grit my teeth at him. “Because then you will know that your days are numbered.”
He shakes me. “Answer me or the next thing you hear will be your husband’s dying screams.”
I inhale.
It feels like my final breath—because I’m out of time.
“My name is Aura Lucidia!” I scream. “I am the fae Queen’s Champion. The only Twilight fae. Killer of humans. Destroyer of souls.” All my anger burns inside me as I glare at him. “Even my own people hate me.”
Cyrian’s fingers splay wide against my neck, carefully untangling from my hair as he takes a backward step.
But I’m not finished. I have one final promise that I know in my heart to be true. “If you hurt Nathaniel, I will destroy you. No matter what price I pay.”
Chapter 22
The dark wash of Cyrian’s power drops so suddenly that my ears hum. The maelstrom around us vanishes, returning the courtyard to its garish whiteness.
The King stands very still, an ominous silhouette against the backdrop of dazzling white.
The villagers remain in their seats, clinging to each other while the hunters stand guard among them. The humans fear me now, even more than they fear Cyrian, but the look on their faces when they take glances at Nathaniel is heartbreaking.
He brought me here.
The question in their eyes is undeniable: Has he betrayed them? Why would he draw his family’s name on my face—a name that, by all appearances, means more to them than Nathaniel has ever revealed to me. Why would he fight with me when I am their mortal enemy?
Cyrian’s shrewd gaze passes over Tanner’s body again.
“One drop of your blood killed him,” he says. “That can only mean… the Law of Champions has been invoked.”
Nathaniel’s presence is a strong force at my back as Cyrian pitches my dagger into the ground at his own feet.
He points at Nathaniel. “You have proven yourself untrustworthy to your King and to your people. I can’t rely on you to fight for me under the Law.”
I sense Nathaniel’s tension growing.
Another disturbing smile grows on Cyrian’s face. “I invoke the Three Chances!”
I don’t know anything about the old law, so I have no idea what he’s talking about. I’m sure it couldn’t be any worse than the situation we’re already in.
“What are the Three Chances?” I demand to know.
Cyrian’s eyes drag across me as he paces slowly around us. Nathaniel draws closer, his chest pressed to my back. My adrenaline is still high, but the pain of the cut across my chin is seeping through and I fight to ignore it. I can’t allow such a small pain to distract me now.
Infuriatingly, Cyrian doesn’t answer me. Instead, he snarls at Nathaniel. “You changed her hair and painted her face. You thought you could hide her from me. You thought you could hide the Law from me.”
He leans in close enough that the dank scent of his skin makes me shudder. “What is your weakness, Aura Lucidia?”
I’m not surprised that Cyrian doesn’t know everything about me or my power. When Nathaniel first fought me, he wrongly assumed that I controlled all of the elements of nature. I had to explain that every fae belongs to either the Sunstream or Eventide classes. The Sunstream fae control powers related to the seasons—my brother, Evander, is a Frost fae who controls wind and ice while Solstice fae control heat and fire. Sunstream fae sleep at night like humans do. The other class of fae—Eventide fae—control the elements of night and spirit, including healing powers or the ability to commune with animals. I am an Eventide fae, which is why, very soon, my energy will be drained completely and I’ll need to sleep. I’m already way past needing rest.
Nathaniel draws me into his side. “You invoked the Three Chances, Cyrian,” he says. “The clock is ticking. Or are you too afraid to take the first chance? All of your hunters are here. What’s stopping you?”
Cyrian’s face grows red with anger. “When was the Law invoked?”
“Yesterday at dawn,” Nathaniel says.
Cyrian’s glower deepens. “Then I only have half a day.” He lifts his eyes, casting a dark gaze around the arena and raising his voice as he addresses his men. “The Law of Champions was invoked without my knowledge or the chance to endorse my Champion. That gives me the right to replace Nathaniel. To do so, I summon the Three Chances: three steps that must be satisfied before the start of the final day of the Law—before dawn tomorrow. If the steps are not completed by then, Nathaniel remains my Champion.”
I shiver, but this time, it’s in anticipation. If Cyrian can replace Nathaniel, then that means we don’t have to fight. A glimmer of hope grows inside me. This could be how we can both survive the Law…
Cyrian continues. “The first chance: I will call for volunteers. One of you must step forward of your own free will to challenge Nathaniel for the glory of becoming my Champion.
“The second chance: You must fight Nathaniel and defeat him. Then you will be worthy to become my new Champion and carry the strength of my name.”
He gleams at the hunters. “Who is willing to volunteer—”
“You forgot the third chance,” Nathaniel says.
Cyrian grinds his teeth. “I didn’t think you would want the reminder.”
�
��Don’t spare my feelings,” Nathaniel says, a dangerously cynical tone in his voice.
A cold smile settles on Cyrian’s lips. “The fight between Nathaniel and the challenger will determine who has the right to be my Champion. However, if Nathaniel doesn’t die in the fight against his challenger, then the third chance must be satisfied. To finally break the Vanem Dragon’s seal, Nathaniel must die some other way.” Cyrian smiles at Nathaniel. “If you’re still alive after the fight, anyone can try to kill you.”
“Anyone but you,” Nathaniel says. “From now until the Three Chances are exhausted, you can’t touch me.” He surveys Cyrian with a cold calm. “That’s the real chance you take, Cyrian—that you can find someone strong enough to end me for you.”
Ignoring him, Cyrian spins to his hunters. “Who will volunteer for glory?”
The hunters glower down at us, but more than one of them glances at the dead man lying at the side of the arena—the hunter whose neck Nathaniel broke. He wasn’t a small man, not so easy to kill. Yet Nathaniel ended him in a heartbeat.
The silence grows thicker.
A deep crease appears in Cyrian’s forehead.
“The problem with asking people to fight for you is that they have to want to,” Nathaniel murmurs.
Cyrian’s frown eases as he addresses his men. “You’ve seen the benefits Nathaniel enjoyed as my Champion. He had access to sunlight. Real sunlight above the haze. Fresh air and fresh food every day. The freedom to come and go. Who wants that?”
Several of the hunters lean forward. Cyrian hasn’t ordered any of them to volunteer and they seem only now to trust that he can’t. “We can’t enjoy it if we’re dead,” one calls out.
The others shout their agreement. “If you want us to fight Nathaniel, you’ve got to offer us more—”
“I’ll do it.”
The quiet declaration comes from the side of the courtyard.
Hagan steps away from the throne, his previous hatred shuttered as he considers Nathaniel and me.
“Hagan Sever.” Cyrian grins. “A true contender.”
Hagan stops and folds his enormous arms across his chest, returning his focus to Cyrian. “I want something in return.”
The King arches an eyebrow at him. “You get to be my Champion and enjoy all of the benefits that come with that position. That should be enough for you.”
“Not even close.” Hagan gives Cyrian a slow shake of his head. “The risk is high. The men who’ve seen Nathaniel’s true strength are long dead and buried. Even if I win against him, I will face Aura Lucidia in… what? Less than two days? She has bright magic on her side. I need more than glory and sunlight for a day.”
An angry hum sounds in the back of Cyrian’s throat. “What do you want?”
“I want Christiana.”
Cyrian blinks at him. “You can have her. Take her. Do whatever you want with her. Bring her back—”
“No.” Hagan takes a threatening step forward. “I want her for myself. Mine for the rest of my life, however long that is. Without any interference from you or any other man.” He glowers at Cyrian. “You will make her my wife and give me complete control over her.”
Cyrian purses his lips in thought, then just as suddenly makes a decision. “If you defeat Nathaniel in battle, Christiana is all yours.”
“You will give her to me now.”
Cyrian’s lips twist and his eyes narrow. “I have a better idea. There is one more step that must happen before the fight can occur. The Vanem Dragon must come to Fell country to seal the challenge and bind you to fight Nathaniel.”
I startle, but Nathaniel holds me tightly. The Vanem Dragon has never crossed the border into Fell. I can’t imagine it flying all the way from the mountains on the north of Bright into the darkness here.
“You may have Christiana after the dragon has bound you to the fight,” Cyrian continues. “That way, I know you can’t back out. You will then fight and kill Nathaniel before dawn.”
“Agreed,” Hagan says.
“Very well.” Cyrian turns away from Hagan to announce to the crowd. “We await the dragon! The battle will be held in the Ditch once Nathaniel and Hagan are bound. In the meantime… it occurs to me…. that starlight only shines at night.”
He swings to Ethel, who has finally ventured out from behind the throne. “When was the last time you opened up Luciana’s old greenhouse, Lady Ethel?”
She flicks her hair behind her shoulder, her face screwed up in disgust. “That old place? Not for years. I have no use for flowers. Or sunlight, for that matter.”
Cyrian gives me a cruel smile. “Sunlight is exactly what I want.”
Chapter 23
We exit the courtyard surrounded by a ring of hunters. I stay close to Nathaniel, brushing the back of his hand with mine. I have no power left, so I won’t glow. Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. My identity is public knowledge now.
Ahead of us, Hagan carries Christiana away after Cyrian ordered him to return to the castle to rest and eat. I sense Nathaniel’s disquiet. Christiana wasn’t awake for any of the interaction. I don’t think Cyrian will dare hurt her now that Hagan has bargained for her, but I worry about what Hagan will tell her when she wakes up. The flash of hatred Hagan showed me burns in my memory. The villagers look at me the same way.
The remainder of the hunters usher the villagers from their seats. Cyrian shouts at the hunters to ride out as far as they can and order people to come to the Ditch tonight.
“I don’t care if they freeze while they wait! I want everyone to witness Nathaniel’s downfall,” he says. “In the meantime, Nathaniel can’t run. The Three Chances tie him to me until the chances have run their course.” He gleams at me. “Aura Lucidia, you are bound to Nathaniel and Nathaniel is bound to me. And soon enough, Hagan will be bound to both of you.”
Cyrian leads us toward the back of the arena and through a maze of white buildings directly toward another enclosure that looks a lot like the first arena. Although it’s the same color as the other buildings, it’s made from irregular stones, not polished and smooth, and it’s much larger in diameter.
“That’s the Ditch,” Nathaniel murmurs. “It’s an arena dug out of the ground. There are enclosures under our feet.”
“For what?”
“Humans. Animals. Cyrian built it for his own entertainment.”
We walk for another fifteen minutes before we come full circle back to the castle, this time not to its gates, but to a stone building that’s built up against the castle’s outer wall.
It looks like a cottage—except that its roof is made entirely of glass. One portion of the glass is smashed, leaving it with a jagged hole in the middle. The windows have been boarded up, so it’s impossible to see inside.
Cyrian heads toward the outer castle wall to a large, metal wheel with a lever attached to it. A chain rests around the wheel—some sort of pulley system that ascends up the side of the outer wall and then across to the castle wall. I follow its path all the way up until the haze is too thick to see farther.
“Behold,” Cyrian says with a cold twinkle in his eye. “Not magic, but science.”
Nathaniel’s hand tightens on mine as Cyrian slowly turns the lever. The chain creaks, catches… and unsticks.
Sunlight spears through the haze directly through the roof of the greenhouse. It’s bright and golden, as pure as the sunlight in Bright.
I force myself to stay where I am, squinting in the sudden glare. I’m not the only one. The hunters lift their hands to shade their eyes and even Lady Ethel takes a step back, with a whiny, “Too damn bright.”
Cyrian’s rough hand clamps around my arm. “Get inside.”
Sudden movement at my side makes me gasp.
Nathaniel’s fist snaps out, cracking across Cyrian’s jaw.
Cyrian hits the ground as Nathaniel looms over him. Golden light spills from Nathaniel’s chest, mingling with the sunlight pouring around us.
The King stares upward, rub
bing his jaw. “That was a bad move, Nathaniel.”
Nathaniel shrugs. “It was overdue.”
“Get them inside!” Cyrian shouts, spitting blood into the dirt as he rises to his feet.
Now that Christiana isn’t here, Nathaniel doesn’t seem afraid to lash out. The first hunter who lays a hand on me meets Nathaniel’s fist. The second hits the ground. None of them seem prepared to use their daggers near me after what happened to Tanner.
Cyrian’s rage increases as he watches the hunters’ futile attempts to force us into the greenhouse.
“Enough!” he bellows. “Throw them in and barricade the door. No water. No food. The Vanem Dragon won’t arrive before sundown. They don’t come out until then.”
Four hunters run at us at once. One attempts to barrel into me Hagan-style, but I sidestep so that he thuds into the stone building instead. He only just gets his shoulder up so he doesn’t break his own neck. Sadly, I find that I side-stepped into the middle of the doorway.
Dark stars. My reflexes and instincts are dull with fatigue. There’s no way I can sustain a fight with these men.
The others jab their spears at Nathaniel, finally pushing him through the opening with me.
The moment he steps through, they slam the door shut and Cyrian screams for wood to nail the opening closed.
Sunlight beats down on my head and shoulders, sapping my strength. Pain fills my body. Instant. Cruel. Heat floods the entire space and I’m already burning up in it.
I wobble over to the wall and lean against it. The glass ceiling doesn’t cast a single shadow. Squinting upward, I seek the source of the sunlight, finding the glare originating from a structure far above us.
“There are reflective silver panels on top of the castle,” Nathaniel says, scooping his arm around my waist as he lifts me and studies our surroundings, squinting hard to see in the glare. “This greenhouse was once a place of miracles. People came here for healing, not torture.”
Echoes of beauty exist all around me. Pale blue tables stand at angles while intricately carved clay pots lie overturned and cracked, their terracotta shards mixed with the husks of dead plants.
