Page 27

Morgana

I tear my eyes from the fae king’s face, keeping a close watch on the pit opening. Whatever’s down there doesn’t seem interested in making its way up here just yet, but it must be able to climb, or else the setup with the trapdoor and my audience would make no sense.

“The aisthekis has a natural disgust of humans and fae, Princess Morgana,” Respen says. “The aroma of magic repulses it, so please trust that you’re not in danger of getting eaten.”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, if I’m not overly comforted.” If there’s a possibility I might die, I don’t want to go without giving Respen a little snark first.

I risk a glance upward. Leon still looks as serious as a funeral, but a few of Leon’s unit are smirking at my response—even Tira manages a smile—and I do take comfort in their support.

“Perhaps that is wise, Princess Morgana,” Respen responds. “After all, the aisthekis will attack if sufficiently motivated.”

Aisthekis . The word sounds Agathyrian—something about “many senses,” I think? I suppose I’ll find out soon enough what its name means.

“Bring out the bait,” Respen orders Velrir, who again signals to someone I can’t see.

As it’s being collected, Respen continues to explain my task.

“Once the aisthekis sees you as competition for its prize, it will certainly take an interest in you. You’ll need to bring it near to death, without actually killing it. Then, you must revive it, with your alleged command over celestial flame.”

I exhale. What he’s describing sounds possible. Dangerous, but possible. I’m just grateful I finally got a handle on my power last night. Otherwise, there’s no way I’d have the confidence to attempt this now.

There’s a series of whines and snarls as a fae uses aesteri magic to lower the “bait” into the arena.

My heart sinks, because of course it’s the fox animal from yesterday, its body twisting frantically as it tries to fight the magic carrying it to the ground. Now I understand why it was locked up in that cage and treated so terribly. It was only being kept alive to die.

“Is this necessary?” I demand, gesturing to it. “There’s nothing wrong with this animal. Why throw it away on this test?”

Respen looks the fox over thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing.

“You’re right that this korigos looks to be in surprisingly good health—certainly better than the last time I saw it.

” He shrugs. “But I have no use for it, and it is the favored prey of the aisthekis. Besides, I consider this test very important, princess, and anything in aid of it could hardly be called a waste.”

I can see I can’t change the korigos’s fate, at least not yet. It lands on the ground, shaking out its fur as its eyes lock with mine.

I said I’d come back for it, but I didn’t do it quickly enough, and now it’s stuck in this death trap with me.

I’m sorry . I mentally send out to it, hoping it understands I didn’t choose this. It just looks away though, padding to the edge of the trapdoor.

The korigos sniffs it and immediately, its hackles rise. Releasing a low growl, it starts to back away without taking its eyes off the pit.

I can see why. The movement within the darkness starts to take shape, as whatever is in the pit starts to climb toward the trapdoor and into the light.

“It’s smelled the bait,” Respen says, sounding satisfied.

A long, brown leg covered in black bristles emerges from the pit first. It’s soon joined by another…

and another. My gut twists in horror as six legs, all as long as I am tall, reach out of the pit, pulling a huge body with them.

Another six legs follow, a thick carapace and sloping thorax undulating as the aisthekis hauls itself out of the darkness.

I was wrong about its name—it’s not a creature of “many senses” but “many sights. ” Because above its twin set of sharp, black pincers are twelve eyes.

They’re not small and beady like an insect’s or the spider it so much resembles.

No, they’re utterly human looking, the whites flashing as it rotates its eyeballs first toward me and then the korigos.

It shrieks, then charges at the korigos, pincers snapping and legs scuttling so fast they’re practically a blur.

It happens so quickly, I almost don’t have time to summon my magic, but I manage it, launching a thin but searing sun beam across the arena.

It hits the aisthekis square in the back.

The monster screeches and stops mid-charge, but I can see that while the sunlight left a smoking welt on the creature’s back, it didn’t penetrate its thick hide.

Still, I certainly have its attention.

It turns away from the korigos and comes for me instead. Gods, it’s quick. It’s cleared the length of the arena in seconds, and I can suddenly see every one of its rolling eyes, every detail of its glinting pincers as they hurtle toward me.

I twist to throw my body out of the way, but I’m not fast enough to avoid an excruciating pain stabbing into my left shoulder.

I scream and wildly throw another sun beam out.

The pain lessens a fraction, and I throw myself down, scrambling under the spider’s huge body to escape the reach of the pincers that just pierced my flesh.

Looking up, I can see the monster’s hide is as thick across its belly as it is on its back.

I won’t have any luck attacking it from below.

Wetness seeps through my shirt, and I tell myself it’s only blood, only a flesh wound. I have to trust that Respen would’ve mentioned if the aisthekis was venomous. He has to give the illusion of fairness, after all.

The spider is already turning as I clear its thorax and sprint across the arena. I throw sun beams over my shoulder to slow it down, my heart thudding harder each time I hear those pincers clicking a little closer to me, the sound like shears snapping open and shut.

There’s shouting somewhere above me, and I think it must be Leon. But I’m too focused on surviving to concentrate on his words.

Eventually, I run out of arena. The beast is still closing in, not scared at all of my sun beams. I throw my back against the wall, facing it head-on, thinking maybe if I time this right, I can start taking out its eyes. Most animals are less lethal without their sight, after all.

The aisthekis stops short, however, screeching and jerking one of its back legs.

I peer round to see the korigos on it, its jaws clamped tight around the aisthekis’s bristly limb.

The spider creature jerks its leg again with such force the korigos goes flying, but it immediately scrambles to its paws again and launches itself at another leg, teeth sinking in.

It’s buying me time—enough to come up with a better plan than taking twelve eyes out one by one.

Do what the korigos is doing. Go for the legs.

Not with sun beams. The legs are as well protected as the rest of it. I need to fight it with something the creature can’t defend itself against.

My orbital magic is easy to summon, because in this moment I want nothing more than to be rid of this creature. I let my power encircle each of those hairy, bristly limbs, and then let loose.

The aisthekis’s legs yank out from underneath it, pulled one way, then the other. More hideous shrieks erupt from it as all twelve of its limbs twist and mangle, tangled in each other as my magic tries to tug them in every direction.

It falls, unable to unsnarl its limbs, and opens its maw wide to screech even louder.

I send a sun beam burning straight down its gullet, cutting the noise short. The sunlight must burn almost straight through it, cooking its insides. An awful gargling noise follows as it slumps forward, and dark blood seeps from its eye sockets, running down to drip off the end of its pincers.

It’s horrible, and I feel like a monster for putting this creature through this. As terrifying as the aisthekis is, Respen said it tried to avoid magic users. It would’ve left me alone if he hadn’t engineered this awful test.

The test .

I’ve been so caught up in keeping the spider creature from snipping me in two that I’ve almost forgotten about Respen’s conditions. I look over the creature and see that it’s barely moving, its many eyelids slowly drifting closed. I fought it too hard, and now I might be too late to save it.

I glance toward the gallery, focusing only on the satisfied look on Respen’s face. He thinks I’ve blown it, that there’s no way for me to pass the test now.

His expression only spurs me on.

I throw my magic out toward the aisthekis, opening the connection wide. I know its wounds are severe, so it’s no surprise that I have to reach deep to find the telltale light.

Come on…

There, a flicker in the gloom. Yes, even this monster has a celestial spark.

I don’t hesitate, pouring in my magic, throwing almost everything I have at the fading ember keeping it alive.

I’m not worried about overwhelming the aisthekis.

This animal is so large that I’m sure it can absorb pretty much any flood of celestial energy I throw at it, but this is different to the korigos.

While that had been deprived and neglected, the wound on its neck wasn’t what was killing it.

My magic couldn’t touch that cut, which means celestial power can’t heal the body directly.

Instead, I can rejuvenate the inner flame, and that lets the body’s own magic heal it.

So it’s possible undoing the damage I’ve done to the aisthekis might be beyond my ability, but I have one hope.

If I used celestial magic to hurt it in the first place, its injuries could be more responsive to my power.