Page 9

9

ERYSS

T he world rips apart before I can grasp what’s happening.

I’m yanked from the bed, limbs tangled in the sheets, my skull cracking against the hard stone as rough hands seize me. The force of it steals my breath, a strangled sound escaping my lips as I thrash.

Clawed fingers dig into my arms, hauling me upright.

Disoriented. Disarmed.

My body rebels, muscles screaming as I twist, kicking out blindly. My foot connects with something solid, a grunt of irritation, not pain, answers me. A second set of hands clamps around my waist, pinning my arms behind my back as I’m dragged toward the open door.

A growl spills from my throat. "Let go of me, you bastards!"

I throw my weight forward, then back, trying to break their hold. It doesn’t work. The gargoyles don’t budge.

Stronger than stone.

One of them grips my hair, yanking my head back, forcing me to see the smirk curling his jagged lips. "Still got fight in you, little bride?"

I snap at him, teeth bared like an animal. "Come closer and find out."

He chuckles, but there’s no real amusement in it.

They drag me past the threshold, out into the courtyard, where the sun glares down like a molten blade. The shift from shadow to light is blinding. My feet skid against the sand, every muscle bracing as I’m shoved forward into the open arena.

I freeze.

The courtyard is full.

Gargoyles line the perimeter, their massive bodies positioned in a loose semicircle, wings flicking restlessly. Not guards. Not sentries. Warriors.

Training.

My stomach twists, cold realization curling down my spine as my gaze snaps to the center.

Naranus stands among them, arms crossed, golden eyes unreadable as he watches my struggle. He’s not surprised to see me like this.

He planned this.

A slow, deliberate smirk tugs at his lips.

"Take a weapon," he commands.

Silence slams into the arena.

The gargoyles shift, their stances tightening. The way they look at me, it’s not curiosity. It’s hunger.

I straighten, my breath coming hard through my nose. My pulse thrums, heavy and hot, but I force my chin high, refusing to let them see the way my heart slams against my ribs.

The silence stretches.

One of them steps forward. A smaller one.

If you could call any of them small.

His body is leaner, his frame built for speed rather than brute force. His wings tuck in tight, his tail flicking once before stilling. The barest hint of a smirk plays at the edges of his mouth, but his golden eyes gleam with something sharper.

This isn’t a test.

It’s an execution.

I shift my attention back to Naranus, my fingers curling into fists.

"You did this," I breathe. "This is on you."

His expression doesn’t change. "Take a weapon."

The bastard isn’t going to let me back out. If I refuse, I will lose before I even begin.

Fine.

I snatch the dagger from the weapons rack, testing its balance in my grip. It’s heavier than what I’m used to, the hilt fitted for someone with claws rather than fingers. But it will do.

The smirk on the smaller gargoyle’s lips widens.

Then he lunges.

I barely sidestep in time, the rush of wind trailing behind his movement. He’s fast. Too fast. The moment I regain my footing, he pivots, sweeping my legs from under me.

The ground slams into my back.

Pain splinters through my skull. I grit my teeth, twisting before he can pin me, bringing the dagger up in a desperate strike.

He catches my wrist.

Catches it. And laughs.

The sound is sharp, mocking, meant to humiliate.

The crowd roars its approval, voices rising like a pack scenting blood. "Beat her down!" one of them snarls. "Break her!"

Rage blisters through me.

I twist, using his hold against him, kicking out hard enough that his grip falters. The moment his fingers slacken, I drive my elbow into his throat.

He stumbles. Just a fraction. Just enough.

I don’t hesitate. I slam the dagger into his side.

The roar that rips from his throat is not one of pain.

It’s pleasure.

He’s enjoying this.

His tail whips around, striking me across the ribs with enough force to send me sprawling. The impact knocks the wind from my lungs, black spots dancing at the edges of my vision.

The sand is warm beneath me. Too warm.

I roll to my knees, gasping, fighting, refusing to bow.

The voices around us rise.

"She’s still up!"

"Make her stay down!"

I brace myself, gripping the dagger tighter, but the moment I push up, a fist slams into my temple. The world shatters.

Pain detonates behind my eyes, my knees buckling before I can stop them. The sand rushes up to meet me, but I never feel the impact.

The last thing I see is him.

Naranus.

Standing above me. Watching.

His gaze unreadable.

Darkness envelops me before I can even curse him.