by G. Bailey
On the middle of the floor, surrounded by all the tables, stands a gigantic ice sculpture of Selena. Usually, these types of constructions display her planting the Evening Star into the sky. But this one shows her gazing into the Fountain of Mene, a look of tranquillity on her beautiful face.
Aside from the decorations and music, there doesn’t seem to be much change, because everyone is doing what they usually do—eating at tables, playing games, placing bets, and trying to be heard over each other.
I turn to Luke, a tinge of pink gathering into my cheeks. “What do I do now? I’ve never been to a party in prison before.”
Luke huffs a laugh and drags a hand through his slicked hair. “How about I get you a drink? Of fruit punch,” he adds firmly, crushing that little glimmer of hope I had left.
“That’d be nice,” I say, winking at him. “Always looking out for me, eh?”
He nods and makes his way over to the servery. There’s a girl serving food this time. I’ve seen her a few times whenever Axel isn’t manning the station. Beside the servery, there’s a large table holding a punch bowl and a pile of plastic cups. Luke grabs two drinks, and I take another look around the hall, looking for the only other friends I have here. Speaking of the devil. Axel pops up at my side, offering me one of the red cups.
“You look parched, cutie. Drink up.”
I take the drink from him, smiling my thanks. “You look…” I look him up and down. My mouth turns dry at how prominently his muscles are flexing under his tight grey dress shirt. God dang, it’s practically hugging him. His black jeans are ripped at the knee, and his light blue suede boots really bring out his eyes. “Hot.”
Axel’s pupils dilate, and he wags his eyebrows. “Not too shabby yourself, cutie. I wanted to wish a sexy girl like you a Blessed Night.”
The warmth that had claimed my cheeks moments before returns with a vengeance. I can feel the heat rise up my throat and assault my entire face. A ‘Blessed Night’ on this occasion is what people usually wish their loved ones.
“And to you, too,” I reply sheepishly, willing the redness in my face to go away. “So how do you think I did yesterday? Am I part of the team?”
A proud smile dances over his face. “Memphis nearly shit his pants at how well you did. Thought maybe you’d be gunning for his job next.” I give him a horrified look and he chuckles. “I’m kidding. We both knew you’d be a good fit. Ain’t half bad, is it, training them? It kinda takes your mind off things. Makes you feel like you’re doing something good.”
He’s right. When I was sweating away in the training room, I completely forgot about why I was here. I forgot about the fact that I don’t have a life outside of all that and that I’m only here because I was framed. Helping my fellow inmates helped me drown everything out for a while.
I take a sip of my drink. “Have you ever fought in the Trials?”
Axel nods. “A few times.”
I struggle to swallow the liquid down. “Did you kill anybody?”
“Yeah.”
“How did it… like, feel?”
He pauses for a moment, considering my question. “It felt like shit, but it was either me or them, cutie. My face is too handsome to be rotting in a grave.”
His laugh lightens up the mood a little and I smile. Across the hall, Luke is making his way back over with a frown on his face. I know he doesn’t like it when I hang around Axel. He’s just trying to protect me. But I have always been a good judge of character. It’s one of the things that have kept me alive so far.
“Can I ask you a question, Axel?”
“Anything, cutie. Shoot away.”
“What got you put in prison?”
A short pause stretches between us. Axel scratches his clean-shaven cheeks, his eyes pinched like he’s contemplating whether or not to answer honestly or avoid the subject.
He releases a quiet breath and lowers his voice. “Would you believe me if I told you I don’t belong here?”
“Yes. I don’t think either of us belongs here. And I also don’t think this prison is what it’s cracked up to be.”
My reply takes him by surprise and he widens his eyes, then narrows them again to scrutinize me closely.
“Then just know that whatever they tell you I did,” he says in a low, gruff voice, “it’s all lies, Izora. I didn’t do shit to be trapped in here for the rest of my life. But every inmate says that, right?”
Luke halts beside me, eyeing my drink with a dispassionate glare. “I see Axel beat me to the punch.”
His joke almost makes me laugh, if not for his sour expression.
“You know me, warden, I never like to see a lady without a drink,” Axel practically sing-songs, his tone brightening. “While I have you here, I have a favour to ask.”
Luke hands me the other drink and reluctantly slides out of earshot with Axel. I stand awkwardly for a moment until I spot Abigail. She’s also on her own, slouched over the corner of a table and stabbing her food with her fork. I walk over and sit across from her.
“Thought I’d come to wish you good luck,” I tell her, passing her the drink Luke gave me. “I just know you’ll kick ass.”
She nods absently, ignoring the drink and continues stabbing her food. I place the cup beside her. I really can’t blame her sullenness. She’s literally about to fight for her life in less than twenty-four hours.
“Is there a spot you’d like to place your brother’s headstone once you win?” I ask softly, making sure not to say if she wins. “I noticed there’s a cemetery by the front gate.”
“That’s just for wardens.” She ponders for a moment, dragging her food about her plate. “Kenneth liked to sit by this tree outside. You can actually see it from the window by the servery. I think I’ll place it there.”
I know just the tree she’s talking about and it’s a beautiful one. “I bet it’s going to look wonderful there. It’ll catch the sun in the morning.”
Another nod, this time with a solitary tear slipping down her cheek. “Yeah. I’ve just gotta make sure I… I do it.”
“You will. Don’t start doubting yourself, Abbie. That’s what the enemy wants you to do. Have every bit of faith in yourself like the other participants will have in themselves.”
For the first time since I sat down, she smiles. It’s weak but it’s something. Catching sight of Gold entering the hall fashionably late, I return the smile and push away from her table.
I walk over to where Memphis is standing by the door, but I keep my attention on Gold, watching how he shakes hands with his employees and inmates like he really gives a shit about them. Anyone who endorses the brutality of the Blood Trials doesn’t give a flying fuck about people. They only care about themselves. There must be a way to stop them. Inmates like Abigail don’t stand a chance.
“Remember what I said about gunning for trouble, kid?” Memphis warns, dragging me from my train of thoughts.
“I was just wondering if there’s a way to end the Trials, is all.”
He follows my gaze over to Abigail who’s now dumping her untouched meal into the bin. A guilty knot coils in my stomach like a snake. I pretty much lied to her about winning. What was I supposed to say? Yeah, you’re gonna die, Abbie, but I’m praying to Selena it’ll be swift. Prayers won’t do anything to save her or the others forced to play this barbaric game.
Memphis gently squeezes my shoulder. “She’s not the first and she won’t be the last. First rule of being a trainer, kid—don’t get attached. It’s not our job to worry about who’ll make it out alive. We just gotta give them some pointers and hope they’ll use them wisely to reach the other side. You get me?”
“I know, and I do, it’s just so cruel.” I sigh, frowning at Gold chatting away with a group of guards, a stupid big smile on his face. I hate how fucking sexy he looks in his navy suit. “There must be something I can do.”
Memphis is quiet for a long moment, rubbing his chin in thought. “Unless you can get close to Gold and pers
uade him to stop them, there isn’t nothing you can do.”
Gold slides me a veiled glance, cold and calculating, but there’s something sinister behind it…something dangerous. It’s like he can hear our conversation from the other side of the hall. Goosebumps break out over my skin and a shudder racks through my body. Getting close to this man may be my only bet. I’m no stranger to playing dirty to get what I want, and I want freedom more than anything. I also want to put an end to the Blood Trials.
I turn back to face Memphis, and we talk about my first day at work. It’s a relief to hear I did a good job, and for once, didn’t fuck up. Axel returns with fresh drinks and I take a sip of mine.
“Miss Dawn. I believe we have yet to meet in person,” Gold says, his breath ghosting my ear ever so lightly.
I nearly spit my drink back out. He’s standing right beside me. And this close up, his eyes are both terrifying and mesmerising. The vertical irises, bathed in a field of gold, are intent on my own. Not even Zander’s eyes are quite this unnerving. I find it hard to look away. All I can do is listen and watch as he turns to my friends.
“Axel, Memphis. I’d like to discuss something with Izora in private.”
The guys exchange a tense glance. It’s Axel who makes the first move, followed by a sulking Memphis.
“Be careful,” Memphis whispers in my ear, stepping around me.
“Gold’s a snake,” Axel adds without an ounce of subtly.
The insult only amuses the governor, who curves his lips into a derisive grin. He watches the guys move away and only when they’re out of earshot does he turn to me.
“I’m really not as bad as they make out,” he says.
Oh, I beg to differ, I want to spit back but I just manage to stifle the words. Is this handsome bastard deluded? He’s a monster as far as I’m concerned.
“We’re all misunderstood at times,” I reply instead, inwardly cringing at how sincere I sound.
“As I believe Tyler found out on Tuesday when he broke one my rules,” he remarks, his grin spreading into a smile. “You gave him quite the wake-up call. You are certainly not someone to be misunderstood, are you?”
“No… sir.”
“Sir?” He chuckles dryly. “Look, Izora, I think we both know I’m not your sir yet. Governor or Gold will do.”
I pick up on the word ‘yet’. What’s that supposed to mean? My eyes sweep over the tattoos on his face. I can’t make any of the symbols out. They must be some ancient language of the forest. Maybe Draconian? I wouldn’t be surprised. He has dragon eyes, after all.
Gold catches me staring and grins. “You know, I’m very intrigued to see how you would fare in the arena. The Blood Trials may be barbaric to some, but to others, it’s the only way to survive this prison. I know that more than anyone.”
Somehow, I doubt that. It’s not like he’s ever competed. He just likes to watch the blood paint the grounds of his arena like a canvas.
“The Trials is clearly something you take great pride in,” I say, trying to come across genuinely interested in him and his sick hobby.
“It… is the way things have been since King Ares ascended the Throne of Luna.” Gold’s flicker of hesitation surprises me. “The Blood Trials was his way of claiming Zorya. He would select the victors as his warriors. It used to be a great honor.”
“But what happens to the victors now?” I demand, just managing to hide the scorn in my voice. “Do they become warriors or do they just wait until the next bloodbath?”
A dark glint flashes in his eyes. He glances up at the ceiling and then back to me again, his eyebrows knitted together. “Many traditions start with blood. It’s not only our world that has them but the human realm and those beyond.”
That doesn’t make it any better.
However, it seems the only way to impress Gold is to win the Blood Trials. That’s all he clearly cares about. I don’t think I’ll be able to get close to him any other way. Plus, if I do make it out alive, there are some upsides. I’ll not only hold Gold’s attention, but I’ll also gain rewards. Those rewards could be useful here for sure. All I need to do is stay alive. I’m fast and good at hiding. I’m also light on my feet and can knock a six-foot guy into the middle of next week. Surely I’ve got it in the bag?
Yes, the so-called tradition repulses me.
But competing might be the only way for my plan to work.
“Maybe I need to compete first before giving an opinion,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “You know, to get a better understanding of this… tradition.”
Gold’s face lights up with wicked intent. “Perhaps you should compete.”
He says the words casually, but I can tell by his pupils that he’s excited. This is exactly why he came over here. He wants me to play his game. But is he ready for me to win?
“Not only compete, sir. I’m going to win,” I tell him. “Just you watch.”
He gives a swift, abortive laugh. “Now this is what I’m looking for. Good luck, Izora. I look forward to watching you tomorrow in the arena. May Selena protect you.”
I don’t need Her protection. I’ve got revenge on my side and that’s the only backup I need to make sure I beat Gold at his own game.
The governor inclines his head and returns to mingling with his prisoners. It’s all a little sick, really, watching him chat with everyone like they’re not being caged here by his command. I swallow the last of my drink, throw the cup into a bin, and head towards the exit at the other end of the hall. I pass Coen and his cronies along the way, who each give me a very generous glare. I’m not surprised to see the warden that brought me to this prison is sitting with them. I am surprised, however, to find Janis and Sharon Roth sharing the same table. The two of them fawning over Coen, who couldn’t look more disinterested even if he tried. I knew there was a reason I didn’t take to those girls immediately.
“Where do you think you’re goin’?” Luke demands, his hand landing on my shoulder. He spins me around so that I’m forced to look up at him, and his cheeks are a little pink.
“I’m going to sign up for the Blood Trials.”
My response doesn’t go down well with him; I suspected as much. The blood drains from his face and he narrows his eyes into shards of ice.
“You’re… what?”
I squirm a little in his grip, averting my gaze from his. “You heard what I said. I get the same rights as everyone else here, right? I get to choose whether or not I want to participate in the Trials?”
Instead of answering, he digs his fingers into my arm and drags me from the hall. I expect him to stop in a quiet corner somewhere nearby, but he keeps on walking all the way up the stairs, through empty halls and towards the back right corner of the prison. I stumble in his wake, trying to keep up as he drags me through a cold, dark room. Another secured door later and we enter an even colder room. The air claws at my lungs like ice, and when Luke switches on the lights, my breath streams out before me. This room stinks of antiseptic. It’s suffocating.
“Where are we?” I question, scanning the sterile-white room. When my gaze lands on the autopsy table and the body contained inside a transparent incubator, bile rises into my throat. That alone answers my question. But why did he bring me here?
“You wanted to sign up for the Blood Trials?” Luke sneers, walking over to the cabinets stacked against the wall. He swipes his pass down various keypads and reaches into each of the cabinets. “I thought I’d show you what happens to most of those that do. Look at them. Look!”
I unclench my eyes and gaze down at all the dead bodies. Some of them are stitched up and already decomposing, others are clearly not finished having their bodies assessed yet.
“They’re only kept here until they’re harvested. Once their organs have been ripped out, they’re thrown into a pit and burned with the others.”
I flinch, my insides recoiling. I remember Abigail telling me the same thing. Tears sting my eyes just looking at the bodies. He’s pu
lled out at least ten of them, but I bet every one of those huge cabinets is filled with corpses. Filled with people who desperately wanted a better life in this prison.
“This doesn’t change my mind,” I say quietly, peeling my gaze off the bodies.
He gawks at me as if he thought I’d be so utterly repulsed by the bodies that I’d change my mind.
“Why? Why would you wanna go in there? It’s suicide.”
“It’s a chance,” I counter quickly, looking right at him. “I know what I’m doing, Luke. If you’re so against the Blood Trials like I am… trust me on this.”
“Trust you?” he whispers, stepping back. “You can’t stop the Trials. Nobody can.”
That’s not quite right—Gold can stop them. Working my way through him is part of my plan.
Luke waves his hand and the bodies roll back into their cabinets, the sound echoing loudly around the room. I close the space between us.
“Just trust me, Luke? Please?”
After a long, strained moment, Luke sighs in resignation and reaches out to me. My breath hitches as I think he’s about to caress my face, but his hand lowers onto my shoulder, and the air is sucked from my lungs. Darkness envelops us. The shadows wrap around our bodies, and then we’re standing outside a room called ‘PROCESSING ROOM’.
“If I can’t stop you… This is where you sign up.”
I smile at him, strangely relieved by his acceptance. I shouldn’t care about my warden’s acceptance or not. I shouldn’t care about a lot of things. But I do feel more at ease knowing he’s not going to hate me once I get out alive.
Wrapping my hand around the door handle, I take a deep breath, then pause to look back at Luke.
“Thank you,” I say, “for trusting me.”
And with that, I step into the room to sign my life away again. I have no intention of dying in the arena tomorrow—only winning.
My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest in the small walk from my cage to the door that leads to the Blood Trials and beyond. Thankfully, there is a group of about twenty around the doors, all of them staring ahead with their heads held high, not an ounce of fear displayed on their faces. I spot Abigail at the front, and she’s as white as a ghost. I can only pray that Selena will be with her. I stop not far from the group and glance back to see Luke has stopped in the middle of the room. His eyes are cold and haunted with indecision on how he can stop me from doing this.