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“A farewell gift,” Ronan said over his shoulder.

They thought this was the end of the elf king and his beloved. Layala tried to ignore it but the thought of them tossing rose petals as a goodbye made her skin crawl.

She looked up to see if they laughed at their attempt, if they mocked, but one face stood out among them.

Holy Maker above—Varlett.

It had been a week since they’d seen her in Newarden. Had she been here this entire time? Why show her face now? She smiled and blew a handful of scarlet rose petals out of her palm.

“Varlett is here,” Layala whispered.

Thane looked up nonchalantly. “You’re sure?”

“I saw her.”

“Varlett and the rest of them can rot in hell. I am the Warrior King, and you are Layala Lightbringer, and this is not where we will meet our end.”

She pushed all fear down and locked it away in that deep darkness she used to hide her magic in. Her face became stone. The spirit of the warrior washed over her, swimming through her veins until every muscle tensed ready to strike, until she was detached from the fear of loss, of death, of anything, the same she-elf who came to that castle to assassinate her enemies. She was not prey. She was the predator.

Prince Ronan stopped in the center of a massive archway leading out onto the dirt floor of the arena. Layala looked past him to where Prince Yoren already waited for them in the center. His huge wings protruded from his human form, but his skin shifted into silvery, shiny dragon scales. The hairs on Layala’s body prickled. If intimidation had a physical form, it would be him. And it didn’t help that the walls had skulls inlaid among the stone or that the crowd chanted, “Yoren! Yoren! Yoren!” until the sound vibrated through her chest.

Ronan placed one hand on Layala’s shoulder and the other on Thane’s. “All you have to do is get the scepter. Once you hold it, it’s over.”

Was Ronan truly on their side? Or did he only like to play games with his brother and cause problems for his family in general? He was difficult to read. But Layala nodded and raised her chin.

Ronan pursed his lips. “Remember what I said about other obstacles. Watch your back. This match is rigged against you.” He glanced over his shoulder at his brother, who paced back and forth like a caged wolf. “Get him to shift. It sounds counterintuitive but the scepter will be larger and easier to take. It adjusts with him. He’ll avoid shifting if he can. It will make him appear weak if he has to take the form against elves.”

“It will be easier to grab but he’ll be much harder to take down and kill,” Thane said.

“You don’t have to kill him. I suggest you don’t, or my mother may kill your mate for spite and let you live to suffer.” Ronan smirked and winked at Layala. “Remember you’re of goddess blood, Layala.” He stepped out of the way. “May the Maker and All Mother bless you with victory.”

Layala reached back and tugged her sword handle; it scraped on its way free. In her left grip, she held a shield nearly half her size; one she could duck behind to escape a fire blast. But she rarely used shields in her training and not once in battle; it was heavy and disturbed her balance. Thane equipped himself with two swords, an ax and several daggers. Layala checked her belt one more time; her trusty throwing stars latched all around her hips made of the same metal as her dragon sword.

“Ready?” Thane asked.

She nodded once and side by side they stepped out into the open. The chanting and cheering shifted to “boos’’ and roaring. Layala’s skin itched and crawled with the force of her magic’s reaction. It wanted to lash out and fight, strangle and maim. The dragons among the crowd wouldn’t be able to come down here and join the fight, would they?

“Remember what we talked about?” Thane asked, chin held high, chest out. One sword swung at his side. The other remained in its scabbard on his back for now.

“Yes.” She’d thought about their plan all night and morning.

“Don’t let that temper of yours take over. Keep your head clear, look for weakness. If we stick together, we’ll survive this.”

Layala’s breaths came faster the closer they drew. Each footstep felt like it led to her doom—to the loss of him, again. She raised up her shield to neck level and held her sword at chest height. “I don’t know if the shield is going to work for me.”

“If it hinders you, toss it. You can always pick it back up.”

Prince Yoren jumped side to side and rolled his shoulders. He wore only loose-fitting deep-red pants that hung low on his hips; no shoes, no armor, one sword and one ax. Gold bracers with a single rune mark clamped around his wrists and mid-forearms. What did that symbol mean? His silver scales glinted in the sun which seemed to be growing hotter by the moment. Sweat trickled down Layala’s back and between her breasts, dampening her under clothes. The tight fitting, thick armor didn’t help and neither did the nerves.

A loud female voice boomed, echoing around the circular arena, “Crown Prince Yoren Drakonan, protector and guardian of the god’s scepter, welcomes the challengers Layala Lightbringer, elven mage and future Queen of Palenor, and High King Thane Athayel of Palenor, known as the Warrior King.” There was a pause for the crowd to boo, hiss, and spit. Red petals showered from everywhere splattering across the arena floor. “May the All Mother condemn the interlopers and bring favor to our most-cherished Prince Yoren Drakonan.”

Chapter37

Layala ground her teeth at the condemnation. These people were going to be upset soon. The booing changed to the thousands of dragon shifters shouting, “Yoren! Yoren! Yoren!” rising up like a storm cloud on rushing wind. The wailing and screeching Piper talked about was muffled and its origins indecipherable but nearby. Layala narrowed her eyes against the glaring sun trying to focus on Prince Yoren. The scepter hung just below his throat. Thane lifted his left hand, and the force of his magic coated the air like a bitter tang… yet nothing happened.

Prince Yoren held up his arm showing his right bracer and smiled. “Nice try.” They shield against magic then?

A low growl rumbled in Thane’s chest. “I guess I won’t be searing his brain until he surrenders. I don’t know how effective those bracers will be against you, however. Let’s find out.” Thane stepped to the right, and Layala moved to the left, circling him, surveying his stance, the way he moved.