The Scythian Trials

by Elizabeth Isaacs

  Nya swallowed. She had to admit, he was beautiful when he moved. The warrior must have felt her stare because he turned. As soon as he met her gaze, he dropped the weapon and jogged across the field.

  “You must be the reason I’m here.” He smiled, his black eyes sparkled with a gentleness that contrasted his bulky frame.

  “Aren, may I introduce Anya Thalestris?” Victor motioned toward Nya.

  “Anya.” The warrior spoke slowly as if he was testing the feel of her name on his tongue.

  She blushed. “Most people call me Nya.”

  His large hand engulfed hers as he brought it to his full lips. “Most people call me Aren, but you can call me whatever you want.”

  Nya’s eyes widened, and Victor walked away.

  “What’s your specialty?” she asked. Aren grasped her hand, gently leading her forward.

  “Hand-to-hand combat, but I’m also good at negotiation.”

  “And why did you choose to participate in the trials?”

  Aren squarely met her gaze. “My intended died seven years ago during a Drahzda uprising. After the loss, I thought I would never take a mate. But things grow tense at home, and I’ve been called to lead. Whether I like it or not, I need an equal who can bear offspring. That’s how I find myself here.”

  Startled at his bluntness, Nya looked away. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Aren stared at the warriors sparring in front of them. “It’s taken time, but I’m finally able to see a life without her in it.”

  Nya cleared her throat, and he glanced over.

  “Probably isn’t something I should be telling a prospective romni, is it?”

  She smiled. “Probably not. But personally, I appreciate the honesty. And I understand loss and Scythian responsibility more than you know.”

  “Being the last of Ares and Otreras line, I’m sure you do.” Aren stopped and looked down at their interlocked fingers, his skin so dark against her pale ivory. He brought the back of her hand to his lips. “I am glad to have met you, Anya. I wish you happiness, and I hope to see you again.”

  She smiled as he let go of her and walked away.

  Victor came to Nya’s side. “So, I take it the Moor is on your list?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  He raised his brow but didn’t say anything.

  The ching of metal against metal rang at one end while hand-to-hand combat stayed in the center. The far end had been set up with an archery range. The soft thud of arrows hitting targets was contrasted by the sharp crack of the Urumi, a thin strip of metal sharply honed on both sides. The thing was flexible as a whip and as deadly as a sword.

  They made their way across the field. The loud clack of wood smacking together grew louder as two warriors dipped and lunged, brandishing tall poles sharpened at each end.

  “I haven’t seen anyone spar with pikes in ages,” Nya said.

  The warriors must have heard her because they stopped and stared. She found herself looking into identical sets of light green eyes, so bright against their copper skin and dark curls.

  Victor stepped forward, tablet in hand. “May I present Luka and Tor Romano from Greece.”

  The males made a show of bowing with a flourish, and Nya smiled. Playful. She’d never thought of warriors as such, but the word described these two perfectly.

  “You ever fight with real weapons?” She couldn’t resist teasing them a bit.

  Twin sets of brows disappeared under messy hair, followed by two grins.

  “Depends,” the one on the left piped up. “Would you like to join us? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I’d like a little hand-to-hand time with you.”

  Nya smirked. “You couldn’t handle me.”

  The other twin stepped forward. “He probably couldn’t, but I’d love to try. I’m Tor, by the way.”

  Nya’s lips twitched as she reached out and shook his hand and then his brother’s. “It’s nice to meet the both of you.”

  The twins grinned as they picked up their pikes and started sparring again.

  She and Victor started forward when she noticed a lone male standing against the arena’s far wall. Older, menacing, a long knife strapped to his hip, his gaze swept across the crowd as if he were searching for someone. A thick rope scar marred the side of his face, starting at his temple and disappearing beneath the collar of his black shirt. His shaved head somehow brought attention to the mark, like he was taunting those around him even to mention it.

  His eyes narrowed as soon as he spotted her, and a shiver ran down her spine.

  “Who’s that?”

  The male started jogging towards them.

  “We haven’t seen the swordsmen. Come.” Victor nudged her the other way.

  She stayed put. “Why is he wearing black? Is he a Tova?”

  The male stopped in front of them, blocking their path. “So, this is Ajax Nickius’s pet project.”

  The sounds of sparring died away as everyone around them grew still.

  Victor subtly placed himself in front of her. “Zander, this is neither the time nor the place.”

  “Of course it is. For the first time in decades, one of ours is in the Trials.” His heated gaze raked over her before resting on her face. “From what I’ve heard she wasn’t able to make it through her championship round without getting sliced. What makes Jax think she’s strong enough to be a Tova’s equal?”

  Nya’s eyes turned to chips of blue ice.

  Victor shifted closer.

  “You’ll have to ask Jax,” his voice remained calm, although he looked ready to attack.

  “I would, but Nick is off, cleaning up the mess this one left behind ... again.”

  “Nick?” Nya whispered to Victor.

  “Tovaris call most of their kind by some semblance of their last name.”

  “Nick hasn’t shared much with the chit, has he?” Zander scoffed. “I told him he was an idiot for getting into this mess. The Trials are nothing but a dog and pony show. Tovaris don’t strut around trying to gain the attention of an Amazonian warrior. When they find one worth keeping, they take her, the consequences be damned.” The scar around his eye puckered as he glared at Victor. “And why are you on princess duty anyway? This is a job for one of Alexandra’s underlings—unless you’re babysitting for Nick.”

  Outraged, Nya bristled. “I don’t need a babysitter. I can take care of myself.”

  “Like you did when we had to save your tiny ass from the Drahzda? No. I’ve seen how you take care of yourself, Anya Thalestris.” Zander practically spat the last of his sentence at her.

  Nya’s hands clenched into fists. Tiny was one of the biggest insults to her kind. A warrior was muscular, strong, and capable. The way he spoke you’d have thought she was nothing but a wisp of an Allos. And how in the hell did this jerk save her from the Drahzda?

  Wait ...

  She blinked several times, trying to keep her head from spinning as bile rose in her throat. Images of a black-eyed warrior pulling a knife from her hand flashed through her mind.

  “You were there,” she whispered.

  He bowed from the waist. “Michael Zandros, at your service. My Tova call me Zander, though. And yeah. I was there. And I have this trophy to prove it.” Zander traced his scar with his forefinger. “Tell me, how’ve you been, Anya? Still crying because we took you from your precious Penn? I’ve never heard a warrior scream like that. You almost sounded like a helpless Allos girl.”

  Nya’s cheeks heated with anger as her eyes darted to the warriors listening around them. “Shut up.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Your subconscious is protecting your weak mind. You don’t remember, do you?” His expression matched his malicious tone. “Definitely not Tovaris material. Our kind never forget.”

  Nya’s knuckles whitened as she clenched her fists. She hadn’t lost control in two years, she couldn’t lose it now. “Shut. Up.”

  “Jax was perfectly happy with his brothers, and then you came along. Tell me
, Princess. Do you know where he was when you decided to play hide and seek your first year in the Academy?”

  She ignored the question.

  Zander stepped into her personal space, his hot breath brushing her forehead, his voice lowered so no one else could hear. “He was with me. We’d just visited a whorehouse outside of Bosnia. Thanks to Doc, Nick no longer participated like he used to, so he stayed outside and kept watch. Shame that Nick abstained. At least for the females. That warrior can make the most experienced suka scream. Apparently, he understands what they need. Guess all those years of studying the female psyche comes in handy now and then.” Zander chuckled, watching insecurity flash in her eyes. “Of course, rumor has it you wouldn’t know about screaming ... not like that, anyway.”

  She clenched her jaw and kept quiet, refusing to take the bait.

  “Want to know what happened next?” He waited, and when she didn’t answer, he continued. “After I had my fill, we started tracking our prey. When we trapped them, I wanted to play with the Drahzda scum a little. After all, we’d trailed them for days. It only seemed fair to draw it out a bit—the entertainment might make the effort of catching them almost worth it. But our Nick, he thought that might be crossing some ethical line, so we slit their throats instead of breaking their bones one at a time. Good thing too, because as soon as he got the call you were missing, he left his Tovas, his brothers, in the field.” Zander’s voice turned to a snarl. “The bodies weren’t even cold, and he left us to clean up the mess while he flew across the globe to find a helpless female lost in the woods. Inconceivable, isn’t it? One of ours, leaving his family for you.”

  Nya’s head tingled as blood furiously rushed through her veins. Her teeth clenched as her control started slipping. “I’ve never been helpless. And my relationship with Jax is none of your business.”

  “Bullshit.” He callously smiled. “I’ve seen you helpless. And Nick is Tovaris, which makes it my business. He’s a good male, our Nick. He deserves an equal, not some fragile thing that constantly needs protecting. Hell, he’d be better off with that suka in the valley. At least she’s intelligent enough to find her way home.”

  His words flamed the massive insecurity raging through Nya, but instead of crushing her spirit it stoked her fury. She wouldn’t cower in front of this ass. She’d stand proud like her Amazonian heritage demanded. She tipped her chin up and stared straight in his eyes. “Fuck. You.”

  Zander smirked. “No thanks. I’m not like Nick. I have no interest in an Allos’s leftovers.”

  Complete rage washed over her, and before she knew what was happening, the heel of her palm struck Zander’s throat.

  Shocked, he stumbled as she whipped her right foot around, kicking him with surgical precision in his temple, his throat and then his kidney before she round-housed him to the ground. The world narrowed as rage took over, and she vaguely recalled sweeping her perimeter with glancing blows when someone grew too close. With lightning speed, she repeatedly punched and kicked him in soft, vulnerable places. Zander tried to get to his feet, but a swift kick to the groin had him back under her control, and she elbowed his head. Black arms wrapped around her, and she threw her head back, grunting as her skull met a nose.

  The warrior didn’t lose hold. Instead, he pinned her arms to her torso as he picked her up and trapped her shins between muscular thighs.

  Nya’s chest heaved as she took deep breaths. Adrenaline pumped through her veins. Her mind raced with scenarios of escape and attack. One more headbutt and her arm almost slipped through his grip.

  A warm voice chuckled next to her ear. “Be still. I’m not letting go. But I will subdue you in front of the others if you continue.”

  She struggled again.

  Zander stumbled to find his footing. Blood ran down his face, and a fresh bruise bloomed from his jaw to collarbone.

  “Let me go.” Nya bucked, trying to break free.

  Zander made his way toward her. “Yes, by all means. Let her go.”

  Nya strained against Aren’s too large frame. Her thigh burned as warmth seeped down her leg.

  “Anya, enough!” Victor’s voice rang as his livid features came into view. “You are not allowed to spar, much less take on the head of the Tovaris.” He turned to Zander. “And you. If you’ve baited her into reinjuring her leg, Jax will have your balls on a stick.”

  Zander didn’t acknowledge he’d heard Victor. He kept his eyes trained on Nya as he spoke in Dacian. “You fight well, Warrior.”

  She glared at him, hating that she was being contained.

  “Understand, I had to see if you were worthy of Ajax Nickius, descendant from Troy. Your loyalty to my Tova is commendable.”

  Nya stopped struggling, her face flushed with rage. “Again. Fuck. You.”

  Zander grinned and turned to the crowd. “The Tovaris publicly approve the match of Ajax Nickius and Anya Thalestris.”

  “Like I give a shit!” Nya screamed, struggling, wanting to punch Zander in the back of the head, but Aren’s arms tightened around her.

  Zander smirked as he glanced back. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other after the Trials.”

  She gritted her teeth, desperately needing space. “Get. Off. Me. Now.”

  As soon as Zander was out of sight, Aren loosened his hold, she bolted from his arms.

  “You shouldn’t have interfered.”

  He shrugged. “You’re not cleared to spar. How’s your leg?”

  It burned like hell, but she’d be damned if she let anyone know. “Peachy.”

  She dusted the dirt off her pants, bypassing the warm, wet spot that now rested over her wound.

  Aren stopped her hands, trapping them between his. “Please don’t hold this against me, the fact that I was the one who finally stopped you.”

  Nya warily looked around. “What do you mean?”

  “You knocked three other warriors down while keeping the Tovaris Suveran on his knees. After today, you’ll be the stuff of legend.”

  Nya groaned. That’s all she needed. More notoriety. “Wasn’t a big deal. I’m sure it’ll blow over in a few days.”

  “I doubt it.” Aren grinned, pointing to a camera in the stands. “Right now it’s being broadcast on every Scythian channel. Still, I do regret holding you back. It would have been interesting to see what happened when the Tova found his footing.”

  Nya shrugged. “I would have fought until one of us went down.”

  The males around her growled their approval.

  Aren’s obsidian eyes glittered, and he surprised her by pulling her in for a tight hug.

  “Aren, what—”

  “Choose me,” he whispered in her ear. “Please. Choose me.”

  Nya blushed as he released her and walked away.

  Gia stirred, and Ike wrapped her in his arms, settling her back into sleep. The cloying scent of stale air freshener wafted through the small room, a lumpy mattress reminding him they were in a seedy hotel and not at home.

  He’d give anything to be back in Ireland. This region held nothing but bad memories.

  And now, that damn castle.

  God. If he had a chance to go back, things would be different. For starters, during his Trial, he would have been honest with Alexandra and withdrawn before he became one of her Chosen. Instead, he made fools of them both.

  Back then, he’d been nothing but a young buck hell-bent on claiming a champion. Arrogant and full of pride, Ike wanted the best, and Alexandra was it. Already an elite member of the Society and the daughter of the reigning chancellor, she seemed to have it all. As soon as Ike put his name on the list, the media went into a feeding frenzy, calling Ike and Alexandra the “dream team.” They were a storybook tale—the stuff of legend. Passion sparked as soon as they met. But as he got to know her, doubt settled in. Other than sexual compatibility, they had little else in common. Worse, she was determined to follow her father’s political footsteps and stay in Carpathia, but he loved being on the fr
ontline of the Drahzdan war.

  Instinctively, he knew they’d never work. But instead of acting like a male of worth and being honest with Alexandra, he kept quiet and led her on. He’d never forgotten their final round. The way the shadows stretched across the arena floor, like bars on a cage, his name ringing over the thunderous applause. Alexandra charged, and the arena went wild. He ducked at the last moment, her knuckles grazing his cheek. She smiled, saying he was smart to give the crowd a good show—it would boost their ratings.

  That’s when brutal reality took hold, and he saw a dismal future flash before his eyes. She loved what he hated most— the media attention and political games. He couldn’t take a lifetime of being trapped in front of cameras, forever by her side, while his fellow warriors fought to defend their way of life. Alexandra charged again, but this time his hands stayed by his side. She struck him in his chest before spinning, catching the base of his jaw with her heel. His head flew back, and he went down like a sack of rocks.

  After all these years, he still remembered the crowd’s collective gasp, still smelled the grit of the dirt as it settled around his shoulders, still felt the air cool as the sun disappeared behind the coliseum’s stone. But nothing was more embedded in his memory than Alexandra bending over him, her eyes full of shock and betrayal as she demanded he get up.

  “After all these years, she’s still on your mind, isn’t she?” Gia’s sleep-scratched voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

  Ike kissed her head as he trailed his fingers up and down her bare back. “Nya heading off to Carpathia has stirred memories, that’s all.”

  The silence grew heavy.

  “If you could go back, would you do things differently?”

  His fingers stilled. “I wouldn’t change claiming you. But yes, after Pumpkin was born I would’ve handled things differently.”

  After his Trial was over, the media became relentless. Sick of the constant embarrassment and humiliation, Alexandra secretly met with Ike and demanded he find a way to fix the mess he’d made. So, they came up with a plan. Instead of avoiding each other, they were openly seen laughing like old friends at social events. Alexandra promoted Ike to the Commander of Fourth Gen, and Gia went to the consulate at least once a month to have lunch with the Chancellor. God, Gia hated those visits—but she did it anyway. Alexandra made sure that every holiday, every family milestone, was turned into a PR event, showing the three of them as close-knit friends. And through it all, Gia never complained.