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CHAPTER SIX

CHARLOTTE

T he forest whispered around me, alive with the murmurs of the night.

The leaves above rustled like secretive voices.

The occasional chirp of nocturnal insects was interrupted by the sharp crack of a twig in the distance.

Slick with sweat, my palms pressed against the rough bark of the tree I hid behind as a faint light pierced the darkness.

I crouched lower. The hem of my cloak skimmed the forest floor, catching on roots and damp leaves.

The soft glow grew stronger. Lanterns swayed as a carriage rolled into view.

Its light cut swaths through the deep shadows.

My eyes landed on the sigil emblazoned on the carriage door—a blazing sun cradled by a crescent moon.

It was his emblem: Kael Drakos. The champion of the Sun and Moon Gauntlet.

For years, I had sat transfixed before a crystal viewer, watching Kael overcome every trial, outwit every opponent, and emerge victorious where so many fell.

He was a force of nature. A legend. A symbol of resilience and triumph.

And now, impossibly, he was here, not as a flickering image on a crystal screen but flesh and blood.

“Why are we stopping here?” Kael's voice was sharp, impatient, and entirely at odds with the steady, commanding presence I had imagined. He stumbled as he stepped down from the carriage, his footing unsteady. “Do you plan to have me stumble in the dark like some common fool?”

One of the servants, a thin, hunched man with trembling hands, scrambled to light another lantern. Kael’s gaze landed on him like a predator zeroing in on wounded prey. The servant murmured an apology, his voice barely audible over the rustling leaves.

“Useless.” Kael scoffed, the sound heavy with contempt. He took an unsteady step forward, his movements lacking the grace I had come to associate with him. “Get out of my sight before I decide you’re not worth feeding tonight.”

The servant scurried away, his head bowed.

Kael turned toward another servant, who was adjusting the harnesses on the unicorns.

Their shimmering horns were dimmed, their coats dull and dusky as though someone had stripped away their magic.

Their heads hung low, their movements sluggish, a far cry from the vibrant, untamable creatures I had seen depicted in paintings.

Unicorns were prized for their speed, their hooves barely touching the ground as they streaked across open fields like shooting stars.

But these creatures bore none of that legendary swiftness.

Their legs trembled with each step, as though one more burden might send them to their knees.

Their ribs pressed sharply against their hides, their once-proud manes tangled and limp.

Someone had driven them too hard, drained them of their spirit.

Another mile, another step, and they might stumble, too broken to rise again.

“If you take any longer, I’ll harness you instead.”

The servant flinched but worked quicker, his hands fumbling as Kael swayed slightly where he stood.

Was he drunk? This wasn’t the champion who had faced down fire and shadow with unwavering determination. This wasn’t the hero I had cheered for in the Games .

I took a step back, the movement small but enough to rustle the leaves beneath my foot. My heart lurched as the sound echoed louder than it should have, cutting through the night like a scream. Something cold and sharp pressed against my back.

“Step forward,” a voice hissed in my ear.

I obeyed, my pulse pounding as I moved out of the shadows and into the faint glow of the lanterns. The champion’s gaze snapped to me immediately, his dark eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Who’s this?” Kael demanded, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword.

My captor didn’t answer. Their grip on me firmed as they pushed me farther into the light. The weight of Kael’s stare was heavy, and… wrong. It felt like his eyes were roaming my body, particularly my breasts.

“Speak,” the champion barked. “Who are you?”

I couldn't give him my name. Maybe just a piece of it. "My name is Char, and I'm a huge fan."

Kael’s gaze swept over me, slow and deliberate, like a wolf sizing up a meal. My skin crawled under his attention, every inch of me wanting to recoil, but I stood tall, refusing to give him the satisfaction of flinching. The strong smell of the alcohol on his breath turned my stomach.

“A bit young, but that doesn’t bother me. You’ll make a fine bed partner for the night. ”

My frown deepened, the bile rising in my throat now threatening to choke me. “You’re married to Tyra Veyne. What would she think of this?”

“She's not going to know. She married me for my victories, which is the same reason you're sneaking out in the middle of the night, on the path of my journey into the capital. You're not the first groupie to do so.”

His mechanical hand reached out with a grinding whir of poorly maintained gears. I sidestepped his attempt easily, the sluggish movement of his enhanced arm telegraphing his intentions well before he could reach me.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Hard-to-Get is my least favorite game. Don’t be difficult.”

“Difficult? Difficult is cheering about your triumphs and thinking you were someone worth looking up to. Difficult is finding out the man I admired is nothing more than a philandering disappointment. I really believed your love story.”

To think that my favorite champion and my favorite singer might have been faking their relationship for the crystals. Could this day get any worse?

“Admired?” A slurred chuckle escaped his lips. “Oh, sweetheart, admiration doesn’t win medals.”

He lunged at me, his movements clumsy, the grace he’d displayed in the Games when he was younger and less mechanized utterly absent. I ducked under his arm with ease, the scent of sour wine and sweat trailing after him.

Kael swung at me again, his fists slow and wide, more a brawler’s heavy swing than the calculated strikes of a champion. I bobbed and weaved, dodging each clumsy attempt. My feet danced across the uneven forest floor, while his were rooted with the heavy armor of his mechanized legs.

I knew all his moves. Had practiced them for years. Right now, I could execute them better than him.

“Do you even know how many children across Lunaterra idolize you? We’ve all spent hours watching you, pretending to be you, dreaming of standing where you stand. And this is how you act? Pathetic.”

I’d watched him battle fire, ice, and warriors from every corner of Lunaterra. The man before me now wouldn’t last five minutes in the Games. His balance was off, his strikes lazy, his speed dulled by the weight of too many drinks and too much metal.

“Is this what you’ve been reduced to? A drunk stumbling through the woods, trying to grope women? How do you even plan to compete this year?”

His face darkened at that, his pride clearly stung. I ducked another swing, my reflexes sharp compared to his sluggish attempts. Kael stumbled, his rock of a foot catching on a root. He swayed but managed to stay upright. Barely.

I caught his wrist with one hand and twisted. It was a move I'd seen him perform dozens of times in the gauntlet. And it worked. I heard the distinct sound of bone popping and gears snapping. The champion dropped like a stone.

The collective gasp of the caravan snapped through the night like a whip. Lanterns swung as the others turned toward us, their eyes wide with disbelief and horror.

“Now you’ve done it,” the man who had captured me hissed. “You’ve cost us the victory.”

I tightened my grip on the dagger, my breath quickening as I counted the figures advancing on me. Their shadows stretched long and menacing in the dim light, their footsteps heavy and deliberate.

My mind raced, weighing my options. I could run, but they’d catch me. I could fight, but I was outnumbered. Either way, I would have to come up with yet a new plan.