Chapter fourteen

A Brother's Keeper

N o one seemed all that concerned about the fact that we had begged for refuge just six weeks ago and now were already leaving together to visit one of the most powerful Fae in the realm who, coincidentally, was half of the reason we had needed refuge in the first place. In fact, I wasn’t certain the Queen of the Court of Light and Life had been informed of the reason for our swift departure at all. Which was why I kept my mouth firmly shut as Cass and I left our room that morning and strode, not toward the common room, but toward the gates.

Lark was already awaiting us there, milling about impatiently.

“What took you so long?” he asked through gritted teeth, on edge, when we reached him.

“Semyaza wouldn’t stop fussing over her gown,” Cass said with a roll of her eyes and a jerk of her head in my direction.

It was true. Semyaza had been particularly irritable this morning, spending over an hour brushing through my hair and selecting my attire for the day. She had finally given into the idea of gray and had brought me a gown of gray chiffon so fluffy that I could barely put my arms down. But I hadn’t dared to complain, not when she was finally coming around to the realization that I would not be wearing white while staying within their walls and not while she was muttering under her breath the whole time about all the work it had taken to find a gown that wasn’t white, how she had needed to trade for some dye in the market and oh, how she hated going to the market.

“She shouldn’t be wearing a gown at all,” Lark growled, annoyed.

Cass just raised a manicured brow and he shook his head, frowning.

“Fine. I’ll whip something up,” she muttered, turning toward me and cocking her head to the side, thoughtful. A moment later, she cast a glance over her shoulder at her brother. “Unless you’d like to strip it off her yourself.”

His jaw tensed. His gaze flicked to me once for the briefest of moments in which I thought perhaps he might actually be considering it. But then he loosed a breath in an exaggerated sigh.

“You always get so crude when you’re nervous, Cass,” he accused.

“I do not get crude,” she argued, waving a hand so that my muted gray gown transformed into a glittering cascade of silver, tight tunic and tight pants beneath with shining silver combat boots laced halfway up my calf. “I am always crude.”

I snorted but Lark just pointed, exasperated.

“Go,” he barked.

Cass rolled her eyes but reached for me. I tried my best to pretend I wasn’t gritting my teeth so hard they might shatter. The jaunt confirmed my suspicions that I still wasn’t used to this whole shadowstepping business but at least I didn’t go reeling off a cliff on the other side this time. Though Rook, who had apparently been waiting for us on the other side, did grip me firmly by the elbow to keep me from falling as Cass disappeared again.

“It’s not getting better,” I said through gritted teeth.

“It won’t,” he said simply, negating everything he had told me before.

“I’m glad you’re alright.”

His gaze snapped to mine, apparently shocked by the admission. I just turned away and finally chanced a glance up at the city before me. My lips parted in stunned surprise.

Where the Court of Light and Life had been hidden in the depths of a valley, its shining gold spires not daring to peek over the cliff’s edge in perfect, defensible position, the Court of Rivals was in open desert. The sand was not so white here but more of a burnt orange color and grittier, hot to the touch. But it turned to rough stone the closer you got to the city.

The city itself was not red at all, as I had been expecting it to be. And not everyone wore red. Some did, favoring a crimson shade mostly, but some wore gray or beige, more neutral, earthy tones to cool in the warm climate. The buildings were all in the style of a Spanish Villa, clay walls and tile roofs, all neutral, earth-tones as well. The city itself was massive and sprawling so far that I couldn’t see the end of it on any side. Lights flashed from the streets, illuminating the sky above, and I could hear raucous sounds of music and laughter even from this far away.

I pulled my gaze from the enormous iron gates and looked back to Rook who still hovered at my side.

“Rivals,” I said, lost in thought. “What does that mean? What does this Court stand for?”

“All manners of debauchery,” Rook answered me, pumping his brows suggestively as a wicked grin split his lips.

I rolled my eyes.

“It’s named for the fighting pits,” Lark drawled as he and Cass appeared behind us.

I looked back to where he was striding toward us before turning to face the city with a frown.

“Fighting pits?” I asked.

“They’re centuries old. From the days of colosseums and battles of blood feuds. Men volunteer to fight to the death, to gain the status of warrior.”

My eyes widened as I thought the word I was beginning to realize I thought of often in this realm. Barbaric.

“They’ve been banned everywhere else,” Lark continued to explain. “But the Court of Rivals is…”

He trailed off.

“Debauchery,” Cass intoned, using Rook’s word for emphasis.

“Yes,” Lark agreed.

And then we were walking toward the city in a way that made it feel like I might be walking to my doom. I couldn’t stop thinking of that word as we walked. Debauchery. Fighting pits where men voluntarily risked their lives just to be considered some mighty warrior. I remembered Cass telling me about that now, in our lessons, and was embarrassed that I hadn’t put it together sooner. With that memory came another. She had mentioned pleasure houses as well. I thought I might understand Rook’s choice of terms even better than before.

“If anyone asks you if you have the time, don’t answer,” Cass muttered under her breath as we passed through the massive iron gates.

Ahead, Rook howled with laughter. My face was heating, despite having no idea what she was talking about, as I turned to her.

“Why?” I asked out of curiosity.

“It’s code,” she said. “It’s how they ask you if you’re… available for payment.”

My eyes widened and I clamped my mouth shut as if terrified of what other code I might unwittingly agree to if I dared to speak in this court.

“If anyone asks you the time,” Lark growled from behind us, “you come straight to me.”

I felt that pulsating power radiating from him once again and fought the urge to shiver at the sheer rigidness of it. Cass chanced a look back at her brother, her lips drawn down into a frown for some reason that I couldn’t fathom. I was too focused on my steps, walking through this city of sin while keeping my eyes out for anyone who might have seedier intentions than I. That pulsing power kept at my back though, urging me onward through the cracking streets and stumbling masses.

I could see and feel the others’ power as well, of course, but each of them were different and none were like Lark’s. His was a force. Dark and unyielding, pulsing and pressing against the confines of his very being as if every moment he were fighting to contain it, as if he simply released it rather than having to summon it when needed.

Cass’ power was more of a steady thrum hovering just beneath her skin, glowing outward in a constant shine that made her appear even more radiant than she already was. Rook’s power wasn’t so immediately obvious, so overpowering. I suspected it was because he wasn’t Fae royalty like Lark and Cass. But it was there and had its own unique signature. It was sharp around the edges and jutted outward from him in moments of stress or anger. It was fascinating, watching them, seeing their powers surge and retract. But Lark’s. His was practically overwhelming. I marveled at how he kept it all bottled up inside all the time.

“Gambling dens,” Rook announced as if he were some sort of Court of Rivals tour guide. He nodded down a crowded street we were passing full of bright lights and people running back and forth, smoke curling from the open windows.

“And bars,” Cass added, nodding toward the opposite street.

“And that way?” I asked, pointing ahead of us.

“The fights,” Rook answered.

I dropped my finger to my side, looking toward Lark.

“And that’s where your brother is?” I asked.

“He regards himself as the immortal realm’s finest warrior,” he answered with a shrug. “Never lost a match.”

The breath went out of me. Lark’s brother, the one who would be hell bent on slaughtering him the moment their father died, was the Court of Rivals’ best fighter? My jaw went slack.

“Never lost in the ring,” Rook corrected, seeing the concern on my face.

“That’s because the only people who get into that ring are foolish, pigheaded assholes drowning in toxic masculinity and unearned bravado,” Cass snapped, crossing her arms as she glared at the establishments as if they had personally wronged her.

“Tell us what you really think, Cass,” Rook said sarcastically in the silence that followed her declaration.

“I think my brother is a fool. I think he fights in this stupid arena because he knows he can win and he doesn’t have a care in the world about whether or not it’s actually fair to put up some Court of Rivals nobody against a member of the Bone Court’s royal family. I think he’s a coward and a prick.”

It was quiet once she had finished. Rook stared at her with a raised brow. But then Lark chuckled, putting a hand on Cass’ shoulder, and everyone relaxed.

“And I think you shouldn’t say any of that when we meet with him, sister,” Lark said.

Rook grinned but Cass just kept glaring at the fighting dens as we walked toward them. No one got in our way. No one tried to stop us. Hardly anyone even noticed us as we passed, making our way with the rest of the crowd toward the largest area at the end of the street.

I tried my best not to feel small and suffocated amidst the growing throng of powerful Fae but I couldn’t help but feel like a fish thrown into a tank of sharks. Though none of them were looking at me. They were too busy standing on tiptoes, craning their necks to see into the ring. But I was far more interested in the spectators than the fighters. The crowd itself was diverse. Some with skin as white as porcelain, others a glowing ebony. Hair and eyes of every shade imaginable, even those which I wasn’t sure occurred naturally in this realm. Tattoos and piercings adorned bodies more often than not and various styles of clothes were present as well. From shirts cropped above bare midriffs to long, flowing shapeless robes, every type of Fae I could imagine crowded the gates just outside of the arena, clamoring for their chance to enter.

Only my group appeared unenthusiastic. Rook’s eyes were darting about the crowd, less from excitement and more to be on his guard in case anything might happen. Cass was muttering constantly about how much she hated this place and how ridiculous it all was. Lark just stood as still as a statue, jaw tensed, eyes glazed over as if lost in thought. And I, well, I was certain I had the appearance of a deer caught in the metaphorical headlights.

But then the gates opened and the crowd surged forward, rushing us into the arena whether we wanted to or not.

We found seats near the front, reserved, apparently for high-ranking noblemen and families of the fighters. I supposed we were both. Or, at least, my companions were.

A group of girls was chattering nearby about the champion fighting today and I heard Taurus’ name on their lips along with the words sexy and powerful. The amused grin on Rook’s face told me he had heard them as well and, when our eyes met, we couldn’t help but both snort. Neither of our companions seemed to notice. Cass’ and Lark’s gazes remained on the arena where someone was emerging slowly from the darkness at the other end.

It was starting.

I fell silent, held captive by the display as a man strode into the ring, raising his arms high above his head and grinning broadly. The crowd erupted into cheers while, all around me, my companions tensed. I turned back to the man and narrowed my eyes in examination. Sleek black hair cut just above his shoulders, cruel, dark eyes, the unnatural beauty of a royal Fae. So this was Taurus.

And he was naked.

I blinked in surprise as my eyes traveled from his broad, muscled chest to… lower.

“Should have warned you about that,” Rook said with a grin. Mischief was dancing in his eyes as he barely held back his laughter. I cut him a glare and turned back to the ring as his opponent emerged, just as enormous, just as naked.

From somewhere in the distance, someone shouted a word I didn’t understand but it seemed to have been the signal to start.

Taurus’ opponent charged him first and Taurus waited patiently, facing him, bouncing on the balls of his feet. There were a series of moves and countermoves, punches and dodges. They were moving so fast that I could hardly keep track of them even from my good vantage point. His opponent landed a blow and bright red bloomed from Taurus’ nose. He wiped it away and charged again and they were back to landing blows upon one another. The crowd cheered louder than thunder, their stomping feet shaking the stands so that little flecks of dust rained down on those on the lower levels who hardly noticed as they leaned forward, out of their seats, and jeered at one man or the other.

“Why doesn’t he just—” I started without looking away but Rook seemed to expect my question before I asked it.

“Magic is forbidden in the ring,” he told me. “It’s a test of strength, not of blood.”

I didn’t have time to respond before Taurus punched upward, sending his opponent reeling, and then drove down with his other fist, pummeling him into the dirt. He did not move again. Not even when Taurus strode over to the untouched weapon’s rack, lifted a dagger from the display, and went back to slit his throat.

Horrified, I closed my eyes and looked away as the crowd went berserk.

“It’s done,” Rook whispered kindly but the intent in his tone was clear. I needed to look. I couldn’t appear weak. Not in this crowd.

So I opened my eyes and turned forward again in time to find Taurus now stalking straight for us, a wicked grin on his lips as his opponent bled out in the sand behind him. Rook shot to his feet in the same instant that he hurled the dagger toward us. It stuck in the wood of the stands just in front of Lark, blood dripping from the blade and onto his shoes. To his credit, Lark didn’t even flinch.

Taurus’ gaze darkened as he nodded his head briefly in greeting and spoke, his voice low and gravelly.

“Brother.”