Page 33

Chapter Twenty-One

RUNA

Yards of shimmering fabric swathed my body from breast to ankle, the rich purple so dark it was almost black. Milani had worked tirelessly to prepare me for the survivors’ ball.

Feathery sweeps of gold and bronze dusted my eyelids, making my natural lavender eye-color sparkle like gems. Glittering combs pinned my sleek curls away from my face, leaving the rest to tumble down my back—my exposed back. The elaborate gown was low enough to reveal the dimples above my hips.

Who was this woman staring at me from the gilded mirror?

Since the moment Idris’s golden light blazed down upon my head, ordering the crowd to dictate whether I lived or died, I’d felt…different, changed by the experience, oddly hallow, and yet fulfilled by the life-and-death encounter.

As I eyed my reflection, it seemed as though I still played one of Idris’s twisted games.

I raised my hand, and my doppelg?nger raised hers as well.

It was me but not me .

Since the ill-fated span I’d captured a banished vampire, nothing in my world had made sense. At times, it appeared that the events of the past few days were a curse. At others, it seemed they were fated.

Earlier, when Idris held my life in his hands, that sense of fate had grown stronger.

In that moment, when death held me in her grasp, I prayed to the goddess, begging her to give me strength.

Almost immediately, my fear had washed away, replaced by the feeling that, dead or alive, I was right where I was meant to be.

That my existence was somehow tied to the vampire.

Strangely, while my brothers screamed, fearing for my life, it was Victor who’d helped ground me. In what I believed were my final moments, it was his gaze that I’d sought, his face I wanted to see.

Was it possible that fate brought us together for a reason?

What that reason was, I hadn’t a clue. If only Yaga were here to help me figure it out.

I glanced at the opulent bedroom. All the finalists were given their own rooms. Likely to keep us from murdering each other in our sleep and ruining the king’s fun.

Like me, Yaga would have turned her nose up at the expense of the lush furs, ornate furnishings, and rich bedding.

The cost of this room alone would feed White Bridge for many seasons.

Seasons where, without the Blood River Bandits, many would starve.

Fury rose in my gut, and I spat on the priceless rug, grinding the toe of my sparkling sandal into the wet spot. These were the kind of riches my sister had sold her soul to obtain.

Unlike Raelynn, my only desire was to leave this place and care for my people.

I paced to the door and back, nibbling my thumb nail. The final trial was tomorrow. Traditionally, it was a fight to the death. The last one standing would win. Instead of traipsing around in finery, entertaining King Idris’s court, we should be fighting our way out of this place .

If Thorne could be believed, all we needed to escape was the location of a hidden door. Custodis promised he’d uncover its location.

And yet, here we were, close enough to the end that deaths claws tickled my nape.

Tomorrow, I’d face my brothers in a life-or-death challenge where only one of us might walk away. Idris must know we would never harm each other. He’d likely have a contingency plan in place to give us no choice. Being forced to harm one of my brothers was a punishment worse than death.

Had I survived the trial this span only to watch my brothers fall?

If Custodis didn’t come through, I’d need to take matters into my own hands. What that would entail, I wasn’t sure. Just that under no circumstances would Idris take away my free will and force me to harm them. I’d sooner die.

Before the panic could rise to choke me, knocking sounded, locks tumbled, and a uniformed guard opened the door. “It’s time,” he commanded, his words slightly slurred.

He extended his hand to me. Twin punctures marked his wrist.

I arched a brow and met his blurry eyes. Catching my pointed look, he winced, snapping his hand down.

Interesting.

Six guards escorted me through several long hallways to a massive set of double doors.

Gentle music and the low murmur of voices traveled to my ears. I took a deep breath to soothe my trembling nerves. Surely, a royal ball couldn’t be any more intimidating than facing an opponent on a battlefield.

Both doors swung open, and the guards made it clear I could either step into the room or have a dagger thrust into my back.

It wasn’t a simple choice to make. The dagger held a certain appeal .

At my appearance, a booming voice announced my name.

Heads swiveled, and dozens peered at me as though I were the prized lamb at the local fair.

The gamblers measured my worth. I imagined their voices in my head.

How long will she survive in the challenge?

Chances are she’ll go first. What good is the gift of illusion in battle?

She’s sure to die. Terrible odds. No hope of winning.

Bula-holes.

I sucked a tight breath, scanning the room, noting familiar faces. The other competitors were already here. I was the last to arrive. Last, but not least. I raised my head and stalked into the space like I was the baddest thing in a pair of strappy sandals to ever walk the realm.

I almost pulled it off until a striking male with sleek silver hair and determined gray eyes made me miss a step.

Custodis .

He cut a path through the crowd like an arrow launched from a bow. Target? Me.

Again, that sense of fate washed over me, along with a flush of self-awareness.

My confident swagger faltered. I’d never been overly conscious of my appearance, dressing more for ease of movement than style.

Even now, I couldn’t care less what the royals thought.

However, there was one opinion that mattered.

He stopped directly in front of me, motionless except for those predatory eyes of his that missed nothing. With a look, he consumed me, stole my image, locked it away, and held me prisoner with just his stare. And yet he said nothing.

He wasn’t the only one speechless.

My hungry gaze took him in, committed his likeness to memory, and burned it into my psyche.

His smoky gray tunic was richly embroidered with metallic stitching.

A perfect match for the unyielding glint in his eyes.

The tailored fit accentuated his broad shoulders, lean physique, and powerful build.

But it wasn’t his clothes that demanded my attention, it was his stature.

Victor Custodis had an air of lethal grace about him that no other male could imitate.

Standing before him sent a chill rolling down my spine.

But not one of fear, no, this was something else.

No one had made me feel like this in a very long time, if ever.

I clasped my hands, fighting the urge to fidget. “Don’t just stand there. Say something.”

“I have no words.” His voice emerged on a rasping growl that twirled a spiral of warmth through me.

The Great Victor Custodis was speechless. This was simply too good to pass up. I offered him a coy glance from beneath my lashes, whispering, “Try.”

In response, he claimed my hand, pressing a heated kiss to the inside of my wrist. Sparks shot along my nerve endings, and I shivered.

“Come.” His grip tightened. “Dance with me.”

Not waiting for my agreement, he dragged me into the mass of spinning bodies.

“I don’t know how to waltz,” I said to his back. Instead of the exuberant reel the villagers preferred, this aristocratic dance was stiff with intricate steps.

Ignoring my objection, he spun me into his arms, grasping my waist. “Follow my lead.”

I snorted a sardonic huff. “Me? Follow you?”

With Custodis guiding me, we twirled across the dance floor. Look at that? I did know how to waltz.

Somehow, without breaking stride, he managed to draw me closer, pressing his mouth to my ear. Surely, now, he would compliment my appearance.

“I located the door,” he whispered, sending a tingle down my arm.

Screw compliments. This was far better. “Then why don’t you sound happy? ”

“Because it isn’t a door but a drainage tunnel, located in the pit beneath the sand. The grate sits in front of the king’s pavilion. Like all the exits, it’s locked and warded.”

Disappointment had me tripping over my feet. Victor steadied me.

“But not guarded because it’s completely exposed and impossible to reach.” I exhaled a heavy sigh. “It will never work.”

“I have an idea, but I’ll need to speak with Thorne.”

Our entire escape plan rested in the hands of a male who’d already betrayed us and a mysterious shifter with ulterior motives.

Too soon, the music ended with those around us bowing to their partners.

“All hail!” a deep voice boomed, and heads swiveled as the ballroom doors swished open in a dramatic fashion. “King Idris and Queen Raelynn.”

Both the king and my sister made their grand entrance. Thorny crowns rest upon their heads, the gilded branches glimmering beneath the glowing chandeliers. Rich fabrics encrusted with costly crystals wrapped their lean frames. Priceless jewels circled Raelynn’s neck, dripping from her earlobes.

So much waste. I turned my back to the spectacle.

Tomorrow, we would find a way to escape this place.

We had a plan. Sort of. An impossibly difficult plan.

Sure, we would likely die before we even got close to the hidden gate—but it would be a good death.

A warrior’s death. Monuments would be erected in our names.

Okay, not monuments. More like minuscule trinkets farmers would hang from the tailgates of wagons.

Oblivious to my impending meltdown, Victor passed me a glass of something bubbly. Lady that I was, I downed it in three gulps.

Despite my spinning head, I noted the room had fallen quiet. Fabulous. I was going deaf. I stuck a dainty finger in my ear and wiggled it.

“Runa,” Victor murmured, a bite of warning in his tone.