Page 16

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

S trength drains from my body like water through a sieve.

I want to pace across the dark stone floor or slam my fists against the iron bars of our cell or murder the guards who have now fled up the steps to escape Draven’s wrath.

But with a massive iron manacle around my ankle, and a thick iron chain locked to that manacle and then secured to yet another iron ring in the floor, all I can do is to sit there on the ground and lean my back against the cold stone wall behind me.

Next to me, Isera and Alistair are doing the same. With the iron suppressing our magic and draining our strength, just standing up would be a challenge.

On my other side, Draven has been shackled with manacles and chains around both his wrists and ankles, as well as around his waist and neck.

But the iron does nothing to suppress his magic, so a furious lightning storm is raging outside the wall of iron bars that separates our cell from the rest of the underground prison.

The two guards who were stationed there fled up the steps a few minutes ago, but it unfortunately still doesn’t help us escape.

Lyra and Galen, who are similarly shackled, yank uselessly against their restraints.

I draw in a long breath, trying to muster enough strength to lift my arms. The iron burns cold against my skin where it is clamped around my ankle. If they had shackled us fae the way they did Draven, we would all probably have been unconscious by now.

A sudden urge to laugh pulses through me.

It’s so intense that I have to press my lips together to stop myself.

But the absurdity of it all is staggering.

Am I actually feeling grateful to those damn soldiers for only shackling me with a little iron instead of rendering me unconscious?

Mabona’s tits, if the bar falls any lower, it will be beneath the floor.

The door at the top of the stairs opens.

Draven immediately lets his storm magic fade. Better to draw the person down the steps and then knock him out with a lightning strike. That way, we might somehow be able to reach a pair of keys.

Footsteps echo between the dark stone walls.

Tilting my head back, I find a pair of spotless black boots descending the steps. Once again, I try to muster enough strength to stand, but all I can do is to raise my chin as the Unseelie King saunters down the stairs and comes to a halt outside the bars to our cell.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls.

A bolt of white lightning zaps through the air.

It passes through the space where Orion was standing a fraction of a second too late and slams into the wall on the other side of the room.

Dark storm clouds immediately start gathering again as Draven summons his full power.

But right before another lightning bolt can split the air, Orion raises his hand and holds up something that looks like a short metal rod.

It starts glowing faintly at the same time as Orion’s eyes begin glowing.

Draven jerks back and sucks in a sharp breath between his teeth. The churning storm clouds evaporate in a flash.

“Oh, you recognize this, I see,” the Unseelie King says, waving the little metal rod in the air.

I gasp as I finally realize what it is.

Whipping my head down, I stare down at my own clothes. At my belt. Where that piece of dragon steel used to be tied before I fell off Draven’s back and almost died from the ice flames. In the chaos of it all, I forgot that I had tied it to my belt before we escaped from the barracks.

“Yes, Haldia took it from you while she healed you,” Orion says, as if he could read my thoughts. “Very careless of you to leave something so powerful unattended like that.”

Dread and shame wash over me like cold waves. Because he’s right. How could I have forgotten about something so important?

Orion’s eyes continue glowing as he shifts his gaze back to Draven. Still holding the also glowing piece of dragon steel in his hand, he levels a stare full of threats and challenge on Draven.

“All I need to do is to touch you with it,” he declares. “And then you belong to me.”

Draven clenches his hand into a fist but says nothing.

A vicious smile spreads across Orion’s face. “So keep your lightning to yourself.”

The silence thrums around us as the two of them stare each other down.

Draven doesn’t drop his gaze or lower his chin, but he also doesn’t summon any more magic.

Amusement sparkles in Orion’s eyes, and he seems to consider Draven’s behavior an admission of defeat, because he stops channeling magic through the dragon steel and instead spins it lazily in his hand before lowering it again.

“You treacherous fucking backstabber,” Isera growls from the wall to my left. Chains rattle as she tries to stand up, but she just collapses back down on the floor. Fury crackles in her eyes as she locks them on Orion. “We had a deal, you piece of shit-stained vermin.”

I gasp as the dungeon disappears from around me.

Instead, my parents’ kitchen once again appears before my eyes.

Panic and dread flood my chest as I once more hear myself apologize for breaking the glasses.

My chest tightens so hard that I can barely breathe as I am yet again forced to watch, second by second, how the look in my parents’ eyes changes.

How that deep resentment blooms in their eyes until it fills their entire faces.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but the vision doesn’t change, because in the memory I’m forced to relive, my younger self is still watching it happen.

A sob threatens to rip from my throat as I hear myself begging my parents not to hate me.

Halfway through a sentence, the memory is suddenly ripped away.

I gasp in a breath as the cell around me comes back into view.

A tear slides down my cheek. Goddess above, why did he have to show me that day again?

There have been many days like that one.

So many that I didn’t even remember this specific one.

But now that I’m being forced to relive it, I know that this is by far the worst one.

That look in their eyes, that pure resentment that starts growing in their eyes, makes me want to rip my heart out.

Once more, I try to lift my arm. I want to clutch at the fabric of my shirt to stop the pain in my chest, but I’m still too weak from the iron.

Next to me, Isera is curled up on the floor, her entire body shaking. She drags in a breath before raising her head. Her eyes are wild as she meets Orion’s gaze. But before she can say anything, he does.

“Watch your mouth,” he warns.

She curls her fingers into a fist on the floor.

“She’s right, Orion,” Draven says before Isera can respond. “We did have a deal.”

The Unseelie King slides his gaze to him. “Yes, we did.”

“You always honor them.”

“Yes, we Unseelie fae always keep our end of the bargain.” His smile sharpens. “Which is why you need to be very careful how you word them. The deal was for you to kill Danzo Wolfstalker and be seen doing it.” His eyes glint. “I never promised that I was going to let you get away with it.”

Chains rattle as Alistair kicks out his leg in anger. “You son of a?—”

“Go ahead,” Orion cuts off, his voice like sharpened steel, as he levels a stare full of challenge on Alistair. “Finish that sentence. See how that works out for you.”

For a few seconds, it looks as if Alistair plans to do just that. But then he forces in a breath, swallows, and glances away. Orion snickers.

Draven locks eyes with him. “I will kill you for this.”

A chill rolls down my spine at the way he says it. It’s not a threat screamed in anger. It’s a statement of fact. Cold and hard as a knife slipped between the ribs.

It only makes Orion’s wicked smile widen. “Tread carefully, Shadow of Death.” He holds up the dragon steel and spins it once in his hand. “Or I might make you kill your friends.” His gaze slips to me. “Or your mate.”

A low snarl rips from deep within Draven’s chest.

Orion just lowers the dragon steel again and flicks a glance over all six of us. “But I am not without mercy. I could allow you to win your freedom back.”

“How?” Galen demands. He has been silent up until now, and it almost feels as if he is trying to draw Orion’s attention away from Draven before the Unseelie King can make good on his threat.

Orion’s eyes gleam in the faint light of the few faelight gems that have been set into the stone ceiling, and the smile on his face is so sharp that it could’ve drawn blood. “Care to make another bargain?”

“What kind of bargain?”

“Every few months, we host the Great Games. People come to the capital from all across the Unseelie Court to watch six teams play against each other.”

The image of that massive amphitheater in the middle of the city flashes before my eyes.

“Like the Atonement Trials?” I ask.

He slides his gaze to me. “No, not like the Atonement Trials. That is a punishment. This is a national sport. This is entertainment, betting, faction loyalty.”

“It’s a distraction,” Isera cuts in, her voice smug and vicious, as she levels a mocking stare on the Unseelie King. “An event created to distract your people from the fact that you are all trapped in here.”

Lightning flashes in Orion’s eyes as he snaps his gaze to her. She just stares him down from the other side of the iron bars. A muscle flickers in his jaw, but he doesn’t deny her mocking accusation.

Instead, he simply turns back to the rest of us. “This is the deal. If you play the games and win, I will allow you to leave the Unseelie Court. No tricks this time.”

Silence falls across the darkened underground prison. For a few seconds, only the muted sound of dripping water breaks the stillness.

“This was your plan all along,” I say as understanding finally clicks into place.

Isera is right. The Great Games that Orion hosts are a desperate scheme to keep his people from rioting.

They have been trapped inside these wards, completely cut off from the rest of the world and unable to leave, for millennia now.

It would drive people mad. Unless they have something to distract them.

And what better way to distract the entire Unseelie Court from their stifling reality than to have dragon shifters and Seelie fae play these Great Games for probably the first time ever. It will be the talk of the century.

“The assassination was never the real price,” I continue. “You just wanted an excuse to arrest us.”

“I wanted both.” He slides his tongue along his teeth. “So why not get two bargains for the price of one?”

“Asshole,” Lyra mutters under her breath.

Orion, however, thankfully doesn’t appear to have heard it. He just arches a dark eyebrow at us and demands, “Well? Do we have a deal?”

“If we win, you will let us leave the Unseelie Court and you will help us take down the Iceheart Dynasty,” Isera says, her entire face blazing with challenge as she holds Orion’s stare.

“Don’t push it.” He drags his gaze over her body. “Or I might rescind the entire offer and decide to put you in the arena and break you for entertainment instead.”

She looks like she wants to rip his throat out. But before she can say anything else, Draven instead speaks up.

“If we win the Great Games, you will release us and let us leave the Unseelie Court straight away and without issue,” he declares.

Orion slides his gaze to him. “Yes. The team selection for the next Great Games starts in three weeks. Until then, you remain here.”

“Fine.”

“So, do we have a deal?”

Draven glances at the rest of us. When we all nod, he turns back to the treacherous Unseelie King.

“Deal.”