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It wasn’t the first time I’d noticed he conversed with shadows. Apparently, the false king was both evil and psychotic. A terrifying combination.

Once the king finished with his imaginary conversation, he turned back to the audience, a dark scowl of irritation creasing his face. “It seems one of our challengers no longer qualifies for the finals. Therefore, the sorceress may remain.” He flitted a hand as if Runa’s life meant nothing. “This trial is concluded. As a reward, the winners will attend a ball hosted by the queen and I this evening. Long live Carcerem.”

With little fanfare, the bands restraining us dissolved. Twelve competitors plummeted to the ground. We hit the sand in undignified sprawls. Weak with relief, I collapsed, wrecked by the experience. Top was bottom, and bottom was top.

I gazed at Runa, fighting the urge to go to her. From the back of my head, a deeply ingrained voice whispered, “Reveal no weakness.”Mates were a vulnerability. No one could know what the sorceress was to me. That knowledge would put both of us at risk. That darkest, most primal part of me refused to endanger my mate, much less myself.

I rose from the sand, locking my legs into place. Drazen, however, suffered no such qualms, racing to his sister and sweeping her into his arms. A low growl rattled my teeth at the sight of another male’s arms around her.

Like a handful of survivors emerging from the wreckage of a storm, we stumbled through the pit, taking note of who’d fallen and staring at each other with dazed expressions of shock.

With Runa alive and well, I was uncertain how to proceed. Given our interactions, I suspected she didn’t know we were mates. Nor did I have any knowledge about how sorceresses formed eternal bonds. I’d need time to process it all before figuring out how I’d handle the information. So much had happened in such a short period. It was overwhelming, even for me.

Chapter Twenty-One

RUNA

Yards of shimmeringfabric swathed my body from breast to ankle, the rich purple so dark it was almost black. Milani had worked tirelessly to prepare me for the survivors’ ball.

Feathery sweeps of gold and bronze dusted my eyelids, making my natural lavender eye-color sparkle like gems. Glittering combs pinned my sleek curls away from my face, leaving the rest to tumble down my back—myexposedback. The elaborate gown was low enough to reveal the dimples above my hips.

Who was this woman staring at me from the gilded mirror?

Since the moment Idris’s golden light blazed down upon my head, ordering the crowd to dictate whether I lived or died, I’d felt…different, changed by the experience, oddly hallow, and yet fulfilled by the life-and-death encounter.

As I eyed my reflection, it seemed as though I still played one of Idris’s twisted games.

I raised my hand, and my doppelgänger raised hers as well.

It was me butnot me.

Since the ill-fated span I’d captured a banished vampire,nothing in my world had made sense. At times, it appeared that the events of the past few days were a curse. At others, it seemed they were fated.

Earlier, when Idris held my life in his hands, that sense of fate had grown stronger. In that moment, when death held me in her grasp, I prayed to the goddess, begging her to give me strength. Almost immediately, my fear had washed away, replaced by the feeling that, dead or alive, I was right where I was meant to be. That my existence was somehow tied to the vampire.

Strangely, while my brothers screamed, fearing for my life, it was Victor who’d helped ground me. In what I believed were my final moments, it was his gaze that I’d sought, his face I wanted to see.

Was it possible that fate brought us together for a reason?

What that reason was, I hadn’t a clue. If only Yaga were here to help me figure it out.

I glanced at the opulent bedroom. All the finalists were given their own rooms. Likely to keep us from murdering each other in our sleep and ruining the king’s fun. Like me, Yaga would have turned her nose up at the expense of the lush furs, ornate furnishings, and rich bedding. The cost of this room alone would feed White Bridge for many seasons. Seasons where, without the Blood River Bandits, many would starve.

Fury rose in my gut, and I spat on the priceless rug, grinding the toe of my sparkling sandal into the wet spot. These were the kind of riches my sister had sold her soul to obtain.

Unlike Raelynn, my only desire was to leave this place and care for my people.

I paced to the door and back, nibbling my thumb nail. The final trial was tomorrow. Traditionally, it was a fight to the death. The last one standing would win. Instead of traipsing around in finery, entertaining King Idris’s court, we should be fighting our way out of this place.

If Thorne could be believed, all we needed to escape was the location of a hidden door. Custodis promised he’d uncover its location.

And yet, here we were, close enough to the end that deaths claws tickled my nape.

Tomorrow, I’d face my brothers in a life-or-death challenge where only one of us might walk away. Idris must know we would never harm each other. He’d likely have a contingency plan in place to give us no choice. Being forced to harm one of my brothers was a punishment worse than death.

Had I survived the trial this span only to watch my brothers fall?

If Custodis didn’t come through, I’d need to take matters into my own hands. What that would entail, I wasn’t sure. Just that under no circumstances would Idris take away my free will and force me to harm them. I’d sooner die.