Page 34

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

S till trying to gasp air back into my aching throat, I snatch up the dagger I dropped on the sand earlier and scramble to my feet.

Panic pulses inside me as I try to come up with some kind of plan for how to survive this.

I’m outnumbered three to one, and there is nothing in this corridor except for stone statues.

The crowd yells from the stands. It’s a deafening, rumbling sound that rolls over me like thunder. Bright sunlight streams down from the open ceiling high above, heating my black fighting leathers. A bead of sweat rolls down my spine.

Water magic swirls in the air as two of my opponents make their magic dance. It seems to be the most common type of magic in the Unseelie Court. Or at least in this city. Though given that the city is surrounded by waterfalls and full of rivers, I suppose that shouldn’t be too much of a surprise.

My mind churns as I try to think of a plan. Can I somehow use?—

Torrents of water shoot towards me.

I jerk back, trying to get away, but the streams of water are so massive that they almost cover the entire corridor.

A shadow of death and fury slams down on the sand in front of me.

I suck in a sharp breath as Draven lands hard on the ground in front of me, his massive wings still flared wide from when he flew over the wall from the other corridor. He shoves a blast of storm winds right into the water.

The two forces collide with a wet slapping sound that cracks across the arena. Water crashes right back into all three members of the Blue Faction, sending them flying through the air and slamming into the stone wall behind. Two of them gasp and struggle to their feet. One of them doesn’t.

Draven uses the element of surprise to the fullest and doesn’t waste a second as he shoots a bolt of lightning at one of the two remaining players.

The one on the left, a female fae with short red hair, is struck before she has even managed to raise her head.

Her body shakes uncontrollably as she collapses back down on the sand, her chest rising and falling in jagged breaths while her limbs continue twitching from the lightning.

Our final remaining opponent snaps his head up, and his eyes widen in shock as he stares at us. Raising a hand, he gets ready to shoot magic back at us.

Ice explodes into the air before him.

It shoots up from the ground, crawling up his legs and encasing his entire body all the way up to his neck.

I spin around, staring at the corridor behind me.

Isera is stalking down the corridor towards us, her face a mask of cold power, while Galen strides along next to her with a sword in his hand and an assessing look in his violet eyes as he scans the scene before him.

Behind them, Lyra is bracing Alistair, her arm around his waist and his over her shoulders, as they make their way towards us.

Lyra looks energetic as always with a grin on her mouth, but Alistair looks like he’s going to collapse any second.

Exhaustion clings to every line of his face, and he is leaning heavily on Lyra in order to stay upright.

After the energy he was forced to expend in order to melt the wall, and then a battle with the Green Faction right afterwards, he must have used up basically all his magical energy.

“The key,” Isera demands, her eyes locked on the now trapped member of the Blue Faction.

“Fuck you, you worthless Seelie cunt,” the guy snaps from the wall.

Isera doesn’t even blink at the insult. Her features remain as ruthlessly cold as ever as she simply flicks her wrist. The ice crawls up over the guy’s throat and jaw until it covers his mouth and nose.

Panic crackles in his eyes like lightning.

Sand swirls around Isera’s boots as she strides up to him, stopping two steps away. Then she just stands there, watching him with impassive eyes. He begins jerking. Or trying to, at least. Only the top of his head moves as he tries to break free from the ice. It doesn’t work.

A ball of water starts forming in the air, but it wavers and then disappears as the guy can’t concentrate enough to keep his magic up while he’s choking to death at the same time.

Terror shines in his eyes, and his head jerks more violently.

Isera still doesn’t allow him to breathe.

Above us, the crowd is cheering in excitement. Apparently, this kind of violent and cruel power demonstration is exactly what they wanted to see.

“The key,” Isera demands again, her voice splitting the air like a blade.

The trapped man quickly shifts his gaze and starts desperately pointing with his eyes towards the woman with short red hair who is still lying on the ground, twitching from Draven’s lightning strike.

Taking her time, Isera bends down and starts searching through the woman’s blue fighting leathers. The guy by the wall struggles hard against the ice, desperation pulsing in his eyes.

Above, the calls from the crowd turn even more frantic. Only the people who are wearing blue scarves or holding blue banners are yelling in anger. Everyone else is leaning forward in their seats, clapping and pointing and cheering in approval.

At last, Isera pulls out a black key from the woman’s belt pouch.

Relief washes through me. A black key. Exactly what we needed.

Isera straightens and then flicks her wrist. The ice shrinks back down to the guy’s throat. He gasps in deep breaths. Above, the audience laughs mockingly.

“You fucking—” the guy presses out, still trying to breathe at the same time.

But it’s cut off by a yelp as Isera suddenly makes the ice encasing his body evaporate.

The sudden loss of support makes his knees buckle, and he crashes down on the ground.

Before he can so much as catch himself, Galen rams the butt of his sword into the guy’s stomach.

He gasps again, his body convulsing, as he crumbles the final distance down on the sand.

Draven whirls towards me.

Hellfire burns in his eyes as he locks them on me. “You and I are going to have words later.”

About the fact that I shoved him through the spinning wall and then locked it behind him, no doubt. But we have more pressing problems.

Breaking his murderous stare, I sweep my gaze over all of my companions. “I was forced to hand over our spare key to the Red Faction, so they now have both keys.”

“And the Green Faction didn’t have any key at all,” Galen says. “Which means that the White Faction probably has both keys too.”

“Shit.” I ram my dagger back in its sheath and rake both hands through my hair in frustration. “We need to be the first to reach the door.” My gaze flits to Draven for a second. “Otherwise, we’ll lose the opportunity to steal back the dragon steel.”

“Then stop yapping and let’s go,” Isera interrupts. “I’ll scout the way from atop the wall. That way, we’ll know exactly which corridors lead straight to the door.”

“That way, everyone will also see you and attack you,” I challenge, staring at her in bewilderment. “You’ll be completely open for attacks in every direction.”

“I have ice magic.” She forms a staircase made of ice leading up to the wall. “It’s the best defensive magic out of all of us.”

Before we can get another word out, she darts up the ice steps and straightens atop the stone wall. Turning, she scans the arena before her. The crowd lets out a whoop.

“Straight ahead,” she calls down at us. “Let’s go.”

She doesn’t wait for us to reply. Instead, she simply starts jogging forward on top of the wall. We exchange a quick glance and then scramble to follow her.

My heart pounds as we run through the corridors and rooms, sprinting as fast as we can towards the center of the arena.

Fire roars through the air.

Instinctively, I duck. But the flames just stream past above me. I suck in a sharp breath as they shoot straight for Isera. Still running atop the wall on our left, she yanks up a thick sheet of ice.

The fire slams into it, creating a hissing sound as the flames hit the cold ice, and washes out into the air around Isera instead of hitting her. With a flourish, she shifts the sheet of ice, sending the remaining fire shooting up into the sky instead. The crowd cheers in excitement.

“Take the right,” she calls down at us as we reach another room.

All across the floor of the room is a sea of tables and paintings in thick wooden frames, and a piano, of all things. We leap and weave through the mess, hurrying towards the opening on the right.

Lightning crackles through the air above.

Isera dives forward, rolling across the top of the wall, to evade it. Leaping to her feet, she twists and leans to avoid another bolt of lightning. A stream of ice shoots through the air as she fires back at the person who shot the lightning. The crowd screams in anticipation.

I shove a cluster of paintings aside and then dart through the opening on the right.

Atop the wall, attacks start pelting Isera from two different directions, evidence that both the Red and the White Faction are now within range.

My heart slams against my ribs as we sprint down the next corridor.

I cast panicked glances up at Isera, worry crackling through my veins like lightning.

But she just dances out of the way of the attacks, leaping and twirling and raising spiked shields of ice.

It’s effortless, graceful, and so fucking incredible to watch that I almost stumble when I realize what she’s actually doing.

She’s entertaining the crowd.

Roars and cheers thrum inside the massive arena as the audience hangs on to Isera’s every move, watching her incredible display of both magical and physical abilities.

I gape up at her as we dart down the next corridor.