Savage Lands (Savage Lands #1)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  “Your deep insecurity about your manhood is showing,” I replied, ignoring the cold fear his words set in my bones. He was probably right about no one helping, but I would never show him he could break me. “Guess it’s not just a human male trait.” Comparing a fae to a human was a great insult. The fae believed themselves so far above such follies, but the longer the worlds mixed, the more each took on attributes of the other.

  “You bitch,” he seethed, lurching for me. My fist rammed into his Adam’s apple, his body stumbling back as he clawed at his windpipe.

  “Tsk. Tsk.” I clicked my tongue. “You know the rules. You can’t touch me.” It was something Tad told me. Once you were in the Games, no guard could rough you up. They wanted their fighters to be at their prime to put on the best show.

  “No fun watching a fighter who’s already beaten to a pulp in the ring, giving no fight,” Tad had said. “They want the prisoners so distracted by the spectacle to not think about the fact they are doing their dirty work for them. Killing fellow inmates, keeping down the numbers, while they cheer you on to do it again is really sick, but people love it until it’s their name thrown into the ring.”

  The guard hissed at me, his lids lowering to slits. With a leap, he grabbed my throat, squeezing down, blocking the air from my lungs. Abhorrence curved his scarred lip, death filling his eyes. “You filthy piece of…”

  “Boyd!” A voice boomed through the room, bouncing off the tiles. Zander’s frame filled the doorway. “Let her go.”

  The guard, Boyd, sneered at me, squeezing tighter.

  “Boyd. I. Said. Let. Go.”

  Boyd’s nostrils flared, and he shoved me back. Bending over, I drew air into my lungs with a burning cough.

  “Watch yourself.” Boyd pointed at me before stomping out of the room, glaring at Zander.

  Zander watched me as I straightened, my hand rubbing my throat.

  “Get dressed.” He nodded at the pile on the table. “I will be right outside to escort you back to your cell.”

  He retreated, leaving me to get dressed. Shakily, I drew my pants on, the spike of fear collapsing down around me again. Overwhelming emotions built behind my crashing adrenaline. I finished dressing, slipped back into my boots, and headed out to find Zander waiting exactly where he said.

  He gave me a quick but warm smile before he took off down the corridor, passing other cells. My eyes locked on one of them.

  “Stop,” I said to Zander, stepping up to the cage, peering at the person behind the bars. I knew the Games were still going, and almost all the cells were still empty.

  Except this one.

  I wasn’t the only one who no longer wanted to be part of the show tonight.

  “Can you open this cell?” I looked at Zander, my voice empty.

  He nodded, not questioning my reasoning. Using a master key on his belt, he slid the metal gate open with a shrill bang.

  Tess got to her feet, her eyes tracking every movement I made. Her jaw was locked, showing me no fear, but also no fight. Her watery gaze held no sign any actual tears had fallen for her friend. You didn’t do that here until deep in the night when no one could see, and your cries were absorbed with the others.

  “My blanket.” It was an order, not a request or question.

  She hesitated for a second, clearly battling the urge to fight. Begrudgingly she bent down, picking up a blanket from the nest she created on the ground.

  “Both.”

  Her cheeks twitched, rage flaring through her face, but she grabbed the other one as well, holding them out for me.

  She knew the game inside and outside of the arena. This was how it worked, and I could not show leniency. Otherwise, I was weak.

  Taking the blankets, I headed out of her cell, and Zander closed her back in.

  “She died well,” I said.

  “Fuck you.”

  “No more, Tess,” I commanded. “Your war with me is done. You threaten me or even get in my way, and you join your friend.” I walked away before she could respond. Zander scrambled to catch up with me, keeping stride with me to my cell. Walking into it, I turned to face my guard.

  “You are…” Zander shook his head in awe, sliding my door closed, grabbing the bars the moment it locked, staring at me. “Something.”

  “I’m something all right.” I snorted, dropping the blankets to the ground.

  His silence drew my attention back, his brown eyes watching me. His expression made nervous energy flush through my body.

  He watched me boldly, his intention clear. But different from so many other men, Zander’s focus wasn’t leering or lustful. He wanted me, but his look was softer, almost longing. Sweet. In a place filled with violent death and cruel torture, it was jarring. Unsettling.

  I didn’t know how to handle it. Staring down at the floor, I nervously licked my lip.

  “There’s not a word I could find in this language that could define you.”

  A curt laugh drove up through my mouth. “Don’t worry. I’ve heard cold-hearted bitch in almost all languages.”

  “That is not at all the description I had in mind.” His gaze stayed intently on me until he peered off to the side, finally breaking the contact. “You have stirred something here. From the moment you walked in, you have changed the dynamics, the order. It’s as if everything is about to topple.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. I just feel it.” His attention came back to my face. “And I feel myself being caught up in your current. I can’t seem to stop myself.”

  I gulped, his declaration stirring both flames and ice in me, passion and fear.

  He tapped the bars, stepping back. “Be careful of Boyd. He has a weak character, a lust for power and blood, and no conscience,” he said before marching away as if nothing personal transpired between us at all.

  Wow. I shook my head. Tonight had been an extreme roller coaster, and I wanted to get off.

  Lowering myself onto my blankets, I curled up, the extra padding feeling better than any luxury bed I’d ever slept in.

  Distant cries and cheers from the games filled my ears with white noise, pulling me into a deep sleep. My body gave over to the first full night of sleep I had since arriving, probably thanks to whatever the healers shot me with.

  In spite of that, Zander’s claim wound through my dreams. My sleep was haunted by images of HDF toppling, pieces crushing Caden and those I loved, while I stood in the middle…watching.

  Chapter 19

  Two weeks passed in a blur of sameness. The one difference I noticed was most stepped out of my way or nodded at me with respect, the name “Piranha” circling the prison. I still had to fight to get any “real” food, but toast with butter was available for me every morning. Still, more weight slid off my bones, leaving me weak and tired.

  I wasn’t ready to fight tonight, but when death awaited you, time had a funny way of speeding up. In a blink, the day of the Games was on me again. I had no idea who I’d be fighting, but there was no question they would make it harder, my chances of survival dimming.

  “You will win tonight.” Tad set down his coffee cup, studying me. The mess hall buzzed with more intensity than normal, excitement for a night of blooding and the thrill of looking around the room wondering who wouldn’t be with us tomorrow.

  “You don’t know that, old man.” I tossed my toast down, suddenly not hungry.

  “Eat every bite.” Tad nodded at the three slices of bread. “You need your strength.”

  Glaring at him like a nagging parent, I made a show of shoving half a piece into my mouth all at once.

  “Oh, good. Choke to death first.” He shook his head with a sigh, going serious again. “You can do this, girl. I have never seen someone fight as you do. The way you move?” He tilted his head. “Like a ghost. You are magic out there.”

  “Yeah, against a slow-moving human,” I snorted, swallowing my bread, feeling it lump in my gut, “I’m lightning.”

&nb
sp; “No.” Tad’s bushy eyebrows blended into one long fuzzy caterpillar. “It’s more than that. You actually remind me of—”

  Tad’s sentence was cut off by commotion at the doorway. Chatter and people turning to look drew my attention. My gaze landed on the guard who had checked me in, “cleansed” me on the first night, and showed me to my cell. He stood with a new prisoner, dressed in gray.

  Human.

  My eyes latched on to the new fish.

  The world tipped to the side. With a gasp, my cup fell from my fingers, spilling over the table, whipping everyone’s attention to me for a moment, including the new prisoner.

  I blinked several times, not understanding what I was seeing. There was no way.

  His eyes widened, taking me in, and filled with a mix of joy, relief, and shock.

  “Oh. My. Gods. Kovacs?” He shook his head, not believing what he was seeing either, his form already moving toward me. “Shit. We all thought you were dead.” he wailed, my brain taking in the form running for me.

  Aron Horvát.

  My comrade at HDF, the asshole who took my virginity, the guy I loved beating up. All that made sense out there, but seeing him here? My mind couldn’t make sense of it, a puzzle piece being forced into the wrong spot. What was he doing here? How?

  “Brexley, I can’t believe it’s you.” He was suddenly there in my face, his arms slinging around me. “Fuck, Kovacs, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you. Markos would flip if he knew you were alive.”

  Caden’s last name and mine seemed to break away from the rest of his words, booming off the walls, echoing in surround sound like a jackhammer, slamming me back to the present.

  Holy. Fuck. He had just said my name—one of the cardinal rules broken.

  Dread filled my stomach, panic walloping my lungs as my eyes darted around. Some faces were blank, but most stared at me in disbelief, their brains trying to place the name, filling with awareness. Shock. Hatred.

  Prisoner 85221 or Laura Nagy was safe. Unknown. Brexley Kovacs, ward of General Istvan Markos, daughter of Benet Kovacs, was a target.

  It was something Istvan drilled in Caden and me, to keep our identities secret at all costs if we were ever caught. We had to be extra careful because we would be used as ransom, blackmail, and punishment to Istvan.

  In seconds, Aron had crushed the foundation out from under me.

  He grabbed my face, his eyes watering. “I-I can’t believe this. Kovac—”

  “Shut the fuck up, you idiot,” I hissed under my breath, standing up from the table, breaking our connection.

  “What?” He stepped back in disbelief, his eyes going back and forth between mine. I could see he was trembling, fear tossing out years of conditioning. I knew he didn’t mean to pitch me under a train. Seeing me alive, a friend in a hostile place, took over his actions. But he still destroyed my safety net.

  “What are you doing here?” The hostility around me grew, eyes drilling into me from all angles.

  Most of all, I could feel his attention cutting me like glass from across the room. The king of Halalhaz. Nothing good came from Warwick Farkas’s attention on you.

  He had left me alone for weeks, acting as if I didn’t exist. Now I could sense his eyes burning the back of my head, his eyes peeling at my skin.

  “Caden’s totally lost it.”

  “Jesus,” I growled, grabbing Aron’s shirt. “Stop talking.” I tugged him out of the mess hall. No one moved toward us, but I sensed that would soon change. Marching him around the corner, I slammed him against the wall. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “I know. I wasn’t thinking. I saw you…” He glanced away. “I can’t…” He broke off, a sob tearing up his throat. “I can’t die here. It was just a silly dare. I shouldn’t be here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Caden,” he cleared his throat…” since he saw you die, or I guess thought you did, he’s been on a bender. Lost it. Drunk and doing stupid shit. He’s on some sniper mission to kill every guard at the fae train depot across the river.”

  The one where he watched me die.

  “Caden has gone off the deep end. He dragged some of us with him in his pursuits. I was caught while trying to run away this last time.” Dragged, my ass. Aron, with his big ego, would be the first in line, claiming he could kill the most.

  “I can’t believe this.” Aron gazed at me in wonder. “We all thought you were dead.”

  “No, not yet.” Though with tonight looming over me and my real name painting a bright target on my back, it probably wouldn’t be long.

  Another small sob hiccupped up his throat. “Fuck, Brex, help me. I don’t want to die. Not like this. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I shouldn’t be here.”

  The arrogant boy in the training room was gone. Cocky in his environment, but at the first signs of true horror, he was blubbering like a baby.

  “You think any of us want to be here?” I shoved him harder into the wall, whispering hoarsely. “You don’t think I want to go home? See Caden again? This isn’t a fucking holiday, but here we are. The faster you accept it, the better.”

  He rubbed his hands roughly across his face.

  “You are not gonna get any sugarcoating from me. This place is everything you imagine, if not worse. I’ve been beaten, tortured, starved, assaulted, threatened, demeaned, and locked in a hole for days. But you show weakness, and you’re dead, Horvát. And as much as I’ve thought you were an asshole back at HDF, you are still my comrade. My team member. We protect each other. So get it together.”

  He nodded, his head dipped toward his chest, his hands shaking. I understood how overwhelming it was when you first arrived to find yourself in a place from which no human had ever returned. But it wasn’t in me to give up and accept the end so easily.

  Tonight I might die. But I would go out fighting.

  The bell declaring the breakfast hour over, time to get our asses to work, trilled through the air. Aron jerked his head at the loud sound, his throat bobbing, his eyes leaping to the doorway, watching figures start to emerge from the room.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, reminding me of someone high on drugs: paranoid and jumpy.

  Instead of answering him, I pushed him back into the wall again, demanding his attention back on me.

  “You do not speak my real name again. Keep your mouth shut. Out me one more time, and I will kill you myself. You understand?”

  He nodded at my demand, though it really was too late.

  “Being a newbie, you will go as fish. Don’t tell anybody anything about yourself. Keep your head down, stay close to me, and do what the guards tell you.” Aron was scared now, but I feared that as soon as he got a tiny bit calmer, his swaggering nature would start to show, which would not be good for him. “You want to live? You keep to yourself and follow the rules.” Unlike me. “You understand?”

  “Yes,” he replied, flicking up his chin, a touch of the old Aron in his voice.

  “Come on.” I twisted around, feeling Aron was some younger bratty brother I had to show around at a new school, let him know the rules and unspoken laws of the place. “Unless a guard tells you differently, you can come with me to work. There is no training, so observe everything; pick up everything as fast as you can. Don’t assume other humans are on your side here, because they are not. Whatever decrees we go by on the outside do not apply here. They will be the first ones to slit your throat. Demons are in red, fae in yellow, half-breeds blue, humans in gray.”

  “Then who is the guy in black?”

  I stopped so fast Aron slammed into the back of me. My stomach plunged into my boots as I stared forward, feeling the side of my face burning.

  Warwick stood in the doorway. No one moved behind him, waiting for the king to decide what he was doing.

  “Who the fuck is he?” Aron sounded arrogant.

  “Shut up,” I muttered, keeping my head straight.

  “Why? Who is he?” Aron’s male i
nsecurities were rising to the surface, the only person clueless to the power billowing off the man in black.

  “Listen to her, fish.” Filled with disgust and threat, Warwick’s deep voice rumbled through the space, plucking the air from my lungs and running shivers down my arms. Sauntering to us, his long legs ate up the gap in a blink, gliding right up to Aron. Towering far above him, he leaned down into his ear, taking over his personal space. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

  Aron stilled, finally sensing the dominance emanating from him.

  “You just put a target on your back.” Warwick sneered in Aron’s face, his gaze snapping to mine. “And hers.”

  Air tore through my nose, my lungs tripping over the gush of oxygen. His threat felt like lead weights were dropped on my back.

  I stared back at the man, not showing any emotion. His blue-green eyes rolled like a storm crashing through me. He tilted his head, watching me for a long time as if I were a science experiment until he stepped up to me, sending my pulse tapping wildly against my neck.

  As his gaze rolled over me, his nose flared, the heat from his body colliding into mine. My head spun. Arms folded, he tipped closer.

  “Watch your back now, princess.” Rough and deep, his voice felt like it poured through my veins and down my throat. “Everything’s changed now.” His mouth grazed my cheek. “Kovacs,” he whispered before brushing past me, his arm knocking into me purposefully as he strolled on, leaving me rooted to my spot, wheezing for air.

  His departure sent the horde pouring out of the mess hall. Figures bumped and brushed by, whispers, snarls, and glares of death all centered on me.

  “Who was that?” Aron grabbed my arm, snapping me out of the bubble Warwick seemed to always put around me when he was near.

  “Remember on nights Sergeant Freeman got a little tipsy and would tell us old battle stories of the Wolf?”

  “Yeah. That Farkas dude.” Aron’s forehead wrinkled. “The legend of the guy who came back from the dead after being killed in the Fae War, becoming neither human nor fae. It was said he could move like a ghost and hunt like a wolf, killing hundreds in minutes all by himself with his bare hands. But he’s just a myth. He’s not actually real. Bakos said he was made up to scare people.”