Page 28

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

A deafening cheer echoes through the massive arena as we step out onto the warm sand.

Though I already know that it’s not for us.

The other five teams have no doubt walked into the arena at the same time as well, but in different locations around the oval structure.

Looking from side to side, I stare at the space around us in confusion.

“Where the hell did all these walls come from?” Alistair asks, echoing my exact thoughts.

During the team selection, the entire floor of the arena was one massive open space.

But now, we find ourselves standing in a small room.

There are two openings, one straight ahead and one to the left, that lead out of the room and into what looks like short corridors.

Tilting my head back, I stare up at the open sky above.

It’s an incredibly disorienting feeling.

The stone walls around us section off the floor of the arena, making it feel as if we are indoors. But there is no ceiling. And above the walls that box us in down here, there are of course the actual walls of the arena. Which also have no ceiling, so the bright blue sky is visible high above us.

The tiered walls of the massive arena, curving slightly in an oval shape, rise up high outside the walls we have down here on the floor.

So everyone in the audience can see down into the labyrinth of rooms and corridors that we are standing in, but we can only see inside the room we’re currently located in. Which is empty, except for us.

“So, left or straight ahead?” Lyra asks, drawing my attention back to our present problem.

She looks to Draven. As does Galen. But I decide to answer anyway.

“Since all the teams start at the edges, the one on the left will likely lead us towards another team pretty quickly.” I turn and motion at the opening straight ahead.

“And that one will likely take us faster to the door at the center. Since everyone will be heading towards the center, we will run into a team sooner or later anyway if we choose that direction, while at the same time, it will also take us closer to the finish line.”

Draven glances at me, a smile full of approval lurking on his lips. “Agreed.”

“Alright.” Lyra shrugs. “Straight ahead it is then.”

Next to her, Alistair frowns and motions at Draven. “Can’t you just fly up over these walls and check where the other teams are?”

Draven gives him a flat look. “What an excellent way to get us all killed.”

His frown deepens. “What?”

“If I fly up there, then yes, I will see where all the other teams are. But do you know what else will happen? All the other teams will know exactly where we are. And then all five of them will be coming straight for us.”

“Oh. I didn’t think about that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I can track them with my magic,” I say before Alistair can retort. “Or most of them at least.”

“Good.” Draven nods. “Do it.”

“We should get a move on,” Isera says, her eyes on something up in the audience. Then she tears her gaze from whatever it was and cuts us all a look. “Now.”

We nod and hurry towards the corridor straight ahead. While we walk, I summon my magic and throw it across the arena floor. I aim for feelings of apprehension, since that should be something that most of the other players are experiencing right now. To my surprise, I only find one.

With a frown, I release that emotion and instead throw out my magic in search of glittering silver sparks of excitement. I blink in surprise when my magic connects with twenty-three sparks.

They’re excited about this? Shouldn’t they be worried?

Then I remember that most of these people are celebrities. They play variations of these games every few months. The crowd adores them, and they’re probably eager to show off their skills and settle rivalries with other teams. We are the only ones whose lives actually depend on this.

“You have them?” Draven asks as we sneak down the corridor.

“Yes,” I reply. “Enough of them at least.”

Aside from us, there are thirty other contestants, and I only have a connection to twenty-three of them. But the connections are coming from five separate locations, so I’m fairly certain that I have at least one person from all teams.

We reach the end of the corridor and arrive inside another room. This one is bigger, and shaped like a rectangle, but it’s still empty. Three openings stare back at us. The one we just walked in through, one to the left, and one to the right. Nothing that leads towards the center.

Everyone turns to me.

With my magic still connected, I decrease our opponents’ excitement slightly while I estimate distances. The closest team on the right seems to be heading farther in while the closest team on the left is heading in our direction.

“Left,” I say.

They nod, and we start through that opening.

High above, the crowd is yelling and cheering. I glance up at them. Half of them aren’t even sitting in their seats. Instead, they’re standing and waving flags and banners. I study them while we sneak through the corridor.

On the other side of the arena is a large section where everyone seems to be wearing white, or at least waving white banners.

There is a slightly smaller group of people in red opposite them.

The rest of the arena appears to be more neutral territory, because banners in yellow, green, and blue, along with some more white and red, are scattered across every tier all the way around the arena.

It’s with dismay, but not surprise, that I notice that no one is waving black banners.

Some people in blue are yelling and pointing, as if they’re trying to tell the blue team where to go, but it’s impossible to hear what they’re actually saying through the noise from the rest of the crowd.

I shift my gaze back to my friends. “We should?—”

My stomach lurches.

For a moment, I can’t figure out what’s happening.

Then I’m plummeting downwards after the ground has suddenly disappeared underneath my feet, revealing a mass of sharp spikes below.

I cry out, trying to grab on to something. All around me, my friends are plummeting downwards as well. Half of the floor in the corridor that we were passing through is gone, and the walls are too smooth to offer any handholds. There is nothing I can do to stop my fall.

Fear crackles through me at the overwhelming sense of helplessness.

Then my feet slam into something solid.

It’s so abrupt that the hard landing sends me crashing down on my knees. I gasp, bracing myself against the cold surface beneath me.

My head is still screaming with panic, so it takes me a few seconds to understand what it is that I’m looking at.

A thick sheet of ice has materialized halfway between where the floor used to be and where the sharp spikes were waiting to impale us.

“Azaroth’s flame,” Galen gasps out from my right.

Raising my head, I look up at Isera where she is crouched on one knee a little in front of me. She straightens and then uses the front part of her ice sheet to create a set of steps back up to the section of the floor that still remains.

“Nice catch,” I say.

She gives me a nod but then just jerks her chin towards the steps she created. “Get going.”

I begin to stand up but stumble back down. That’s when I realize that there is a hand gripping my wrist tightly. Blinking, I glance down at it and then up at the man attached to it.

Draven, seeming equally surprised to find himself still holding on to my wrist, quickly stands up and uses his grip on my wrist to help me to my feet as well. As if that was the reason he has been holding on to me for so long.

Giving me a quick smile, he at last releases me and motions for me to start up Isera’s ice steps. I nod in thanks and do as requested. But in my chest, my heart is beating erratically.

When we fell, his first instinct was to catch me . Not Galen, who has been his best friend for over two hundred and eighty years. Me. He grabbed me .

My heart pounds.

It’s real. It has to be.

Or it’s just the mate bond driving him to protect you by instinct , that foul voice whispers in the back of my mind.

But this time, a third voice adds another small whisper. Does it matter?

“I thought she told us to watch the walls ,” Alistair grumbles as he climbs up onto the floor ahead of me.

I quickly make my way up as well, with Draven and Isera bringing up the rear.

“Looks like both the walls and the floor have a tendency to move,” Lyra replies, glancing at the pale stone walls around us.

Once Isera has reached the real floor as well, she dismisses the thick sheet of ice she used to save us all.

From the stands above, the audience boos loudly, as if they’re disappointed that we didn’t get impaled, while another smaller group laughs and points at us. Cold fury burns in Isera’s eyes as she stares up at them.

Alistair clicks his tongue and nods to the group who were laughing. “How much you wanna bet that those assholes up in the audience are the ones who control the walls and the floor?”

Jocasta’s words echo in my mind again. During this first game, members of the crowd can… affect the course of the game.

“Fuck,” Draven growls, and rakes a hand through his hair.

I blow out a sigh. “They’re going to do everything they can to screw us over.”

“Yeah.”

The sound of grinding stone fills the corridor as the floor slides back out from where it had disappeared into the wall earlier. It moves until there is once more solid ground, topped with a layer of sand, filling the entire corridor.

Tearing my gaze from it, I turn to Isera but find her still staring daggers at the audience. Or, not the audience. A specific person. Following her gaze, I realize who she has been glaring at this whole time.

Orion Nightbane is sitting on a throne in a private section in the middle of the arena.

The silver details on his black and blue clothes gleam in the bright sunlight, and his long midnight blue hair falls perfectly down over his shoulders to rest on his toned chest. His head is turned in our direction, as if he was watching us struggle earlier.

And even from this distance, I swear I can see a smirk on his lips.

“Selena,” Galen begins. “Where’s the team we were tracking?”

My heart leaps into my throat.

Shit . When the floor disappeared, I lost the grip on my magic and the connection to the other players.

Scrambling to get it back, I summon my magic and throw it out across the arena towards those glittering silver sparks of excitement.

Alarm crackles down my spine and I whip my head towards the next opening up ahead.

“They’re here,” I blurt out. “They’re right around the corner.”

“Fuck,” Draven curses. Lurching into motion, he grabs Galen and Lyra and practically throws them towards the opening up ahead. “We need to make it into the next room before they do. Otherwise, we’ll be trapped between them and the floor that those assholes up there can remove at any time.”

Alistair leaps into action as well, sprinting after the two dragon shifters. Isera, Draven, and I follow them.

Our boots pound against the sand as we hurtle through the corridor and towards the next opening. Draven is right, if they make it to the opening before we do, we will be trapped. We have to make it there first. We have to.

My pulse thrums in my ears as I sprint down the corridor.

The opening gets closer.

And so do the people whose emotions I can still feel.

Please, Mabona , I beg in my mind. Come on. Please.

Galen, Lyra, and Alistair reach the opening.

Yes!

Just a few more steps. A few more, and then we will also?—

The wall next to us flips.