Page 75 of The Shadowed Oracle (The Bonded Worlds #1)
Chapter Forty
A ripple of ice spread up from Ingrid’s toes and stopped at her ears.
She could no longer hear the crowd, the clinking of Enitha’s cup, the bored tapping of Sylan’s foot.
She could only see directly ahead of her, that dead space between the raised platform and the arena floor.
The only thing that snuck through was a low grunt.
“Ingrid, please don’t.”
Sylan’s words effectively confused her, like most of his actions leading up to that moment, but he could do more than that. Not after the plan she and the lady’s maids had hatched. Not after they’d spent the entire night preparing. Sylan was, quite literally, stuck in his seat.
Few luxuries were afforded to a female like Lucilla, always taken for granted, ignored, tucked in a corner like one of Enitha’s vulgar pieces of furniture.
But Lucilla’s strength that day came from that very same underestimation.
She might’ve been quiet, and kind, and small, but she did have knowledge of Enitha’s seating arrangement.
“Ingrid,” Sylan called out again, jerking upward, but unable to lift himself even an inch from the wooden seat.
Dean had been right. As absurd as that little Swinnett looked, it did come in handy.
When she’d had the idea for Lucilla to spread the sticky webbing on the chair Sylan would be occupying, she had her doubts, but now that she was zipping past the drunk and unsuspecting Enitha, she swore to never ridicule Dean’s ugly collection again.
Everything seemed to slow as she reached the edge of the balcony.
Using her hands as leverage, she catapulted herself over the balustrade and landed feet-first into the battlegrounds.
The drop was farther than she’d anticipated, but the mud eased her fall.
The worst of it was a filthy dress, and she hated that particular dress anyway.
It was one Enitha had prepared for her, something she’d gladly burn when they escaped.
When , she thought, not if .
A quick scan of the arena proved there was still time before the second wave of gladiators was released, and before Haxus was unchained. She got to her feet and started into a jog, limping at first, then, by the halfway mark, was able to sprint to her friends.
“Tell me this was part of your plan,” Tyla asked, wasting no time. She tossed Ingrid a sword and gripped her at the shoulders, checking if any damage had gone unnoticed after the rush of the fall. “You didn’t just come down here to die with us, did you?”
“No one is dying.” Dean kept one eye on the imprisoned creature as he added, “But damnit Ingrid, couldn’t you have waited until we at least injured this thing?” He looked to her with wild eyes, but managed another smile. “Hurry. Get behind me!”
“I’ve got her.” Raidinn had already taken the liberty of shielding the Oracle, his face painted with blood, his eyes wide and hungry for more.
“That thing is the least of our concern, anyway.” He looked up to the queen’s viewing station.
“The bloody Prince of Hydor is still up there, in case you all forgot.”
“He’s indisposed,” Ingrid informed them. “Swinnett web.”
Dean’s battle swaying halted, his sword lowering as he turned to her. “You’re fucking kidding me. How? Enitha didn’t destroy our ship?”
“I can answer that,” Veston cut in with a proud grin. “Before my entrance into the castle, I ordered the rest of the crew to anchor in a remote part of the island. Hidden. Just there.”
He pointed to the small islets enclosing Enitha’s private dock. The exact spot Monia thought they could escape from. A place, she hoped, that was rarely watched or guarded. In case anything went wrong, Veston had ordered them to stay there until contacted by him or someone he trusted.
“The lady’s maids, Monia and Lucilla, they went in the dead of night to get the supplies,” Ingrid said. “They told them to be ready. To re-dock as near to the arena as possible when the games started. Now all we have to do is get out of here.”
“Should be easy,” Tyla scoffed.
“And fun,” Raidinn bellowed. “Don’t forget fun!”
Veston looked to Tyla, then to Raidinn, and finally back to Tyla in confusion. “Are all Earth males like this?” He seemed genuinely curious.
“No,” Tyla sighed. “Only the psychotic ones.”
“And even then,” Raidinn added. “The psychos at home don’t love a fight nearly as much as I do.” He twirled his sword, examining the blood still dripping from it. “Part of the reason I wanted to come here, General. Only in Ealis can you find this kind of entertainment.”
“Well,” Dean said, looking over Raidinn’s shoulder. “You’re about to get a whole lot more in a minute.”
The gate behind the still-chained Haxus was opening.
Eight more gladiators strutted out, this time in clunky head-to-toe armor.
It was a tall order calling on more soldiers to step out when they knew Enitha’s cursed monster would be set free inside the arena with them.
They must’ve been promised a reward, maybe their freedom, but wanted to make damn sure they were as protected from those titanic talons and razor-sharp tusks as possible.
“We can ignore the soldiers for now,” Dean said intuitively.
“They’ll be as focused on Haxus as we are.
We need them to help us tire the beast out.
Then we can strike from a distance.” He searched the ground for more weapons.
“Tyla, grab that knife. Raidinn, that spear is broken but only at the socket. Veston?—”
“I’m able,” the general chimed in confidently, holding up a long trident he’d taken from one of the bodies.
The twins quickly collected the long-range weapons and tucked them into the flimsy waistband of their fighting rags.
“And me?” Ingrid said, although she knew the answer. It didn’t matter that Tyla had been training her every day, or that her fighting senses had sharpened. Her purpose was above that. She couldn’t be risked.
“Do not leave my side,” he ordered.
Ingrid nodded vacantly, feeling protected for the moment before realizing the other reason Dean didn’t want her risking herself. Training was years away from being truly trained . She was an inexperienced fighter at best, and she was stuck in a death pit full of professional warriors.
Reeling, she took in the enormity of the coliseum for the first time from that vantage point.
Her smallness in comparison sent chills down her spine.
She glanced at Callinora, seeing that her burns were settling but were no less grotesque.
She peeked up to Enitha to see her squirming in her chair, her face turning crimson with impatience. And then she looked to Sylan.
He’d stopped trying to free himself, utterly still, watching with that infamously irksome non-expression.
“Ingrid!?” Dean’s voice suddenly sliced through. “Do you understand? Not for anything. Don’t separate from me.”
She understood, but grimaced at the harshness of his voice.
She couldn’t help but feel another pang of guilt for her outburst on the dock. For what caused Callinora to be branded in the first place.
“I won’t,” she promised, fists clenched. “Not again. I promise.”
Dean shifted the sword in his hand, leaning in close to her.
“I regret putting you here, that’s all. Don’t think for a second that I’ve forgotten—soon, it’ll be you protecting me.
” He cocked his head toward the twins, raising his voice.
“Soon, you’ll be protecting all of us. And when that day comes, you can boss me around all you like. ”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Me too,” Raidinn called out. “As long as the order requires a sword.” He lifted his weapon close to his face, looking like he might kiss it. “I really gotta get me one of these Occi blades. They’re brilliant.”
“If we get out of here alive,” Ingrid said. “I’ll buy you a whole closet full of them.”
“Hey,” Tyla cut in. “What about me? What do I get?”
“My undying friendship?”
“Eh,” Tyla snorted, “You can’t fill a closet with that.”
“I knew it!” Raidinn dropped his sword to his side. “You loved being in that fancy gown, didn’t you?”
“Oh, would you shut up! Ingrid was the one who mentioned a closet! I was thinking more in terms of?—"
Chants started up again, cutting her off. The crowd was now hungrier than ever, calling out to their favorite gladiator.
“HAXUS!”
“HAXUS!”
It echoed like bass drums over the sound of jangling chains.
And the abomination once called King Horace was unleashed.