Page 18

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

J ocasta frowns at the eight guards around us as they form up again once the other teams start moving out. But then she just jerks her chin in the direction of the main entrance.

“Let’s go,” she says.

Without waiting for a reply, she turns around and strides towards the now open doors that will take us back out into the city.

“What do we do?” Galen whispers hurriedly.

“Follow her for now.” Draven casts a discreet glance at the guards around us. “Until we know which route she takes.”

Isera is the first one to stalk after Jocasta. The rest of us hurry to catch up as well.

Indecision swirls inside me. Should we try to escape while we are escorted through the city? Or is it better to take our chances with these games? But Jocasta said that we are the weakest team, so do we even stand a chance at all? But then why did she pick us?

I glance at my companions. All of them seem to be thinking the same, but no one offers any solutions.

Warm midday winds tug at my hair as we step through the final set of doors and walk out onto the street outside the arena. Jocasta has stopped a short distance ahead. She speaks briefly to another female fae, who then takes off at a run.

After once more frowning at our guards, Jocasta jerks her chin at us again and starts down the street to our left. Draven and I exchange a glance. We came from the right, which means that we won’t know the layout of the streets we’re about to pass.

On Draven’s other side, Galen and Lyra look to him in silent question as well. He considers for a moment and then shakes his head.

Alright, follow the strange fae it is.

The owner of the White Faction and the team she chose walk along the street a little farther up ahead. When they pass, citizens cheer and some even lean out of windows to wave at them. They raise their right arms in greeting, which makes one of the spectators blush and fan herself with her hand.

I study them curiously. People act as if they are celebrities.

Orion was apparently telling the truth. These Great Games are something like a national sport for these people.

And given that the owner of the White Faction didn’t even look at the other teams, this one must be her usual team. Maybe even a crowd favorite.

Jocasta walks with her chin raised and her steps confident as we stride after them, but when we reach the same group of spectators, the change in behavior is palpable.

Instead of cheering and waving, they stare at us with a mix of suspicion and disgust on their faces.

My stomach twists, and I swallow down a familiar feeling of nausea. I try to block it out, but I still hate it when people dislike me. And now, I’m once again trapped in a city where people who don’t even know me actively despise me for something I haven’t even done.

A sudden overwhelming tiredness crashes over me like a tidal wave.

Does it ever change?

In the Seelie Court, people disliked me simply because I had emotion magic. They didn’t even know me and I had never done anything to them, but they still disliked me for something I hadn’t even chosen.

In Frostfell, everyone hated me simply because I was fae. I had never enslaved any dragon shifters, but still they hated me for it.

And now, here in the Unseelie Court, people yet again dislike me simply because I’m a Seelie fae.

I blow out a long sigh and rake a hand through my hair. Is this what the entire world is like?

After a few more streets, we reach a freestanding three-story building made of the same pale stone as the rest of the city.

The red roof almost shimmers in the bright sunlight.

Jocasta walks up to the carved wooden door and pulls out a key.

It unlocks with a distinctive click. Then she turns back to us.

“Alright, scram,” she says, and makes a shooing motion with her hands at the guards.

They start slightly in surprise and blink at her.

“I’ll take it from here,” she says. Without waiting for them to reply, she simply flicks her wrist at us and then strides into the building. “Let’s go.”

The guards look just as shocked as we do. Exchanging an uncertain glance, they hesitate before they start to back away.

“First things first,” Jocasta is saying from right inside the door. “Baths and new clothes.”

Despite myself, I immediately perk up. The others seem excited about that prospect too, because we all follow Jocasta in through the door.

What meets us on the other side is a very large room that looks to be a combined living room and kitchen. Warm sunlight falls in through the windows and illuminates the pale wooden furniture, making the entire space feel bright and inviting.

“Kitchen and living room on this floor,” Jocasta says.

Then she points to a staircase by the back wall.

“Bedrooms one to three on the next floor. Bedrooms four to six on the top floor. All of them have bathrooms attached. Choose whichever you like and start by taking a long bath.” She flicks her gaze up and down our bodies and crinkles her nose.

“You smell like you haven’t bathed in weeks. ”

That’s because we haven’t , I mutter sourly in my head. We’ve been locked in a dungeon for the past three weeks. Not exactly a haven for personal hygiene.

I frown in confusion as a sudden thought drifts through my head. Does Jocasta even know who we are? Does she know that we are prisoners bargaining for our freedom and not volunteers? If she doesn’t, we might have an edge.

“I’ve sent my assistant to acquire new clothes for you,” she continues. “So leave the ones you have outside your doors while you bathe.”

“No,” Draven simply says.

Jocasta arches a pale brow. “Excuse me?”

“I will be keeping my armor.”

She scoffs and shakes her head. “Oh will you now?”

Draven just holds her gaze with a commanding stare. “Try to take it. See what happens.”

For a few seconds, they remain standing like that, staring each other down.

Then Jocasta lets out something between a sigh and a huff, and drags a hand through her long white hair.

“Oh this team selection really is going to bite me in the ass, isn’t it?

” Flicking her wrist, she clicks her tongue.

“Fine. Keep your armor. At least it’s the right color.

” She glances up and down Draven, Lyra, and Galen’s bodies. “And rather badass, I suppose.”

Galen almost blushes a little at her intimate scrutiny while Draven just gives her a flat look. She turns to me, Isera, and Alistair.

“But you three are definitely changing your clothes,” she declares. She scrunches up her nose in disgust again as she looks us over. “You two are dressed like pleasure slaves, for some reason.”

Both Isera and Alistair flinch.

But before they can say anything, she shifts her gaze to me. “And you look like a beggar.” She heaves a sigh. “Malachi’s balls, maybe I shouldn’t have picked you after all. Oh well, too late now.”

Before I can ask why she did pick us, she lifts both hands and makes a shooing motion towards the stairs.

“Get to it,” she commands. “Take a bath. A long one. Clothes will be delivered in a couple of hours. Food is in the kitchen. Eat. Rest. I will be back again in the morning. Feel free to explore the city if you want, but we only have a week to train before the games start, and you will need all the rest you can get, so I recommend using the day to recover your strength and get ready.” Raising her eyebrows, she looks from face to face. “Any questions?”

But I can barely concentrate on her words because that middle part of her instructions is still ringing inside my head like a bell. Feel free to explore the city. Staring at her, I try to make sense of the words. Are we actually allowed to leave?

My friends seem equally stunned, because they also just stare at her in silence.

When no one asks a question in the first five seconds, she claps her hands. “Excellent. See you in the morning then.”

And with that, she strolls back out the door and closes it behind her.

I wait for her to lock it.

She doesn’t.

Her footsteps quickly fade as she walks away down the street.

My heart is beating so hard that I can hear it pounding in my ears.

She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know that we are supposed to be prisoners. Oh Goddess above, she doesn’t know .

Hope and excitement surges inside me as I tear my gaze from the unlocked door and meet my friends’ eyes. They look equally stunned and relieved and hopeful.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Lyra asks, a conspiratorial grin on her face.

“Yes,” Alistair immediately replies.

I nod. “We escape.”