He jerks my arm, pulling me away from the horrid scene and into an alcove. I crane my head, trying to spot Lilly or Willa along the sideline chambers of the Cage.
They have to be here.
I’m yanked forward and forced to look ahead. A narrow and dark hallway leads us into a large, open chamber. There are chairs and tables and faded material hanging over smaller rooms off to the sides. A loud clang sounds behind me, and I jerk my head to see a ribbed metal door locking into place.
“This is your new home,” Bax tells the prince and me. “Make yourselves comfortable. It might be wise to lock yourself up in a room tonight.” He laughs, and I take in the surly faces of people hunched into corners and sitting on makeshift furniture.
I turn and face Bax. “I demand to know what is to become of us—me,” I correct quickly, not wanting him to know I have any association with the prince.
Prince Caben shifts to stand beside me, and I’m tempted to box his face. He’s stating that it’s us against them. He’s trying to be strong, but he doesn’t understand that alliances in situations like this can be deadly.
I step away from him and again open my mouth to question my fate when Bax says, “All you need to worry about is defeating your foe when you enter into the Cage, protector.” His illuminated eyes sweep over me. The light-filled spires in the corners of the chamber crackle with voltage, and his eyebrow rings glint. “If you cost me one ounce of mercury, I’ll off you myself—if one of your opponents doesn’t finish the job first.”
Kai’s blood-splattered face flashes in my mind. She’s only just been brought here . . . her and my Nactue . . . and they’ve already been tested in the Cage. He’s telling me that I have to face them. That I will have to kill them, or they will kill me. This is the Otherworlders’ game, their sadistic sport. And we’re probably the greatest competitors they’ve had for a long time.
“What if I refuse to fight?” I ask, my voice trembling despite my efforts to remain calm.
He sneers. “Then your goddess help you, protector.” He moves closer and looks down his pale nose at me. “Because then the Grimmal will pick his teeth with your bones.”
I shiver as a high-pitched screech rolls through the chamber, rattling the barred walls.
Bax has left the cell, Prince Caben has found a secluded spot across the chamber, and I’m finally alone with my thoughts. There’s another large chamber off from the master cell where some of the prisoners have disappeared to, but I’m not in the mood to investigate just yet.
I picked the farthest corner of the main room to hunker in—away from the other prisoners that I can faintly see in the dim lighting—and I now pull off my boots and stretch my legs.
My calves ache as I knead them, trying to work out the soreness along with my jumbled thoughts. I don’t need to inspect my chest to know the stabbing pain and dull ache stems from bruises and possibly a fractured rib. Now that it’s quiet and I’m no longer in flight or fight mode, all my injuries are making themselves known.
I roll my tense shoulders and force my exhausted mind to reason. Besides the circumstance that I have more than myself to worry about in here; like Prince Caben, Lilly, Willa, and the other Nactue—there is something else disturbing me. Something that doesn’t connect with how we came to be here, and what the Otherworlders want.
After the Otherworlders fled below the earth, the Council speculated that they would get their resources from outside the Three Realms. That they were most likely dying off. We went without incident from them for a century. From all I’ve seen so far, it doesn’t appear as if the Otherworlders are suffering from lack of anything. It seems like their realm flourishes—functioning as it does daily, and we’re now simply a part of it.
Why the sudden attack on Perinya and Cavan? And if we were preparing for an attack from them at some point, like the empresses stated in her address, then how did they defeat us so easily and thoroughly?
There is a piece of this puzzle missing. Something that doesn’t match up.
Councilor Herna declared that Laryn is providing shelter, and I assume Perinya and Cavan will plan retaliation once the leaders regroup at King Dallion’s palace. But, the Otherworlders are not scampering around preparing for an attack. Nor was there any talk of invading Laryn. I can’t be sure of that, however, from my short time outside this cell, but it seems as if the Otherworlders had a very specific goal once they invaded each country, and maybe it wasn’t to take over. Maybe killing the leaders and steeling mercury and relics was their plan. And capturing slaves for their Trade and twisted sport is a bonus.
My head starts to pound and I press my fingers to the sides, working small circles against my temples.
Willa, Lilly, and the other Nactue are somewhere in this realm. From what I’ve deduced, there are three main ring leaders for this caged sport. And each has their own champions to contend against the others’.
A twinge of panic that my mother could be here somewhere hits my chest. She could be at this Mill or the mine right now, or being traded off—without her meds. I wish I could feel that assured connection to her like I share with Empress Iana. Even though the empress is fading, I can still feel her life force and know she lives. Where is my mother? Will I ever see her again?
I push the thought down into the pit of my stomach. I have to trust that Alyah has protected her, that she guided her to Laryn. That the Council already has a plan set into motion to secure the stolen crystalline relic. I have to trust in my goddesses and leaders or else I’ll go mad trapped behind these barred walls.
A pneumatic pipe pumps along the stone wall, steam escaping with a shrill whistle, and a dim light flickers to life in the middle of the dingy ceiling. It’s not bright enough to make out faces or details, but along with the lighted spires, it casts a soft glow in this dark world. I lay my head against the wall, ready to retire my brain.
After I’ve had a few hours of sleep, I can then try to figure out my next move.
My eyes flutter closed, but before I drift off, I feel a presence nearing. Jerking upright, I fist my hands and pull them up, ready to strike.
Prince Caben takes a step backward. Then he shakes his head and shrugs off his cloak. Ignoring my raised hands, he balls up the garment and slides it between the stone and my head. Without a word, he returns to his side of the cell.
The crease between my eyes relaxes as I lower my hands and rest my head on the makeshift pillow. The scent of masculine cologne, pine, and oleander settles me, and I breathe in the mixture of the prince and my home. An ache lodges in my throat.
I keep my eyes cracked open as I drift off. Prince Caben may have missed the curious look that the hulky guy on the cot gave him. But I didn’t. The guy stares at Prince Caben now, his huge biceps flexing as he pumps his palms together.
I have never desired a shower so badly before in my life.
Glancing around at the members of our supposed team, I find everyone looks as if it’s been weeks or months since they last bathed. I wrinkle my nose. It smells like it, too. The thought that I may never cleanse myself again scares me almost as much as the idea that I’ll be bathing right along with them—in the same stall.
I rub my thumb over my chest and cringe.
I’ll have to find a way to hide my clamp if that’s so. Staying alive means keeping my secret. I don’t know what these prisoners would do if they discovered it—possibly kill me out of fear or prejudice; viewing me as either a threat or weak link. It depends on how they viewed cybernetics in their own realms.
Best not to find out.
There was no alarm or brightening of the sun to wake us, only the loud clanking from the guards positioned outside our cell. The light in the middle of the room glows brighter, mimicking daytime, or at least what the Otherworlders consider their day. There’s no way to tell the time as it’s continually dark underground.
Now that there’s more light, I can make out the people who share my cell. There are seven of us. Five men and two women—me i
ncluded. They all wear the same dismal blue tunics and pants with a metal cuff around one wrist.
Two of the men look like they come from the same country. Their dusky skin is similar in shade, and they have a tattoo of a swirled feather beside their left eye. I’ve never seen that marking before. They must be from a country outside of the Three Realms.
For the others I assume the same as well, because I surely would have known if people from Cavan had been abducted. But then I wonder if Prince Caben has made any connections—if any of them are from his country, and whether they have recognized him.
I shake the fearful idea from my head. Even if that were so, they wouldn’t out their prince. They would want to protect him, keep his identity a secret after what happened to their king.
With that thought comes another terrifying realization: how am I to keep my princely charge alive?
It seems futile to think after all that has happened that I should keep my orders. But I took a vow to honor my empress. If all that I have left is my duty—if all else is stripped away—I at least have my honor.
Once I have a chance to seek out Lilly and the other Nactue, we can form a plan. Find some way to escape. Until then, my mission is to protect the last heir to the Perinyian throne. Even if that means beating him senseless to stop him from blundering into faux pas in this realm and getting himself killed.
The burly guy who eyed the prince last night shifts his gaze to Prince Caben again. He runs his palm over his shorn hair and his mouth twists into a sneer. It makes me nervous . . . and confused. I figure, at least in here, we are all on the same side. Fighting against the other sets of Cage fighters, the other teams. Maybe he recognizes Prince Caben. Or maybe—
“What’s your rank, baby blue eyes?” the guy asks, pushing off his cot and stalking toward the prince.
Everything in me screams to act, but I don’t want to declare alliances this early on. Not without understanding the dynamic of placements and bonds already formed among these people. But I’ll not let this hulk of a man harm the prince. I brace my heel against the wall, ready to push off and lunge.
Prince Caben rises to his feet, slowly turning to face him. He straightens his spine, squaring his shoulders. “I don’t have one. And my name is Payne. Not ‘baby blue eyes’, meathead.”
Big guy laughs, his husky voice bounces off the rock walls. “I’m Crew”—he beats his chest hard once, like a barbarian—“and I’ve won three fights. I’ll win the next two and be the one awarded the freedom ring.” He leans down toward Prince Caben, leveling their faces. “So don’t even think about you or your princess over there walking out of here. I’m ranked as a Colossal. The strongest Colossal in Bax’s league.”
Princess? I nearly scoff. Then I realize what the problem with Crew is: he feels threatened by Prince Caben. That revelation almost makes me laugh out right. What does a big stack of muscles like Crew have to fear from the prince?
The other prisons slowly circle around the stand-off in the center of the cell. Tension thickens the musty air. It coils around my spine, tightening my muscles. If I allow the fight to continue without interruption, will the guards stop it? They’d want their fighters in pristine shape, wouldn’t they?
Prince Caben doesn’t back away from Crew. Instead, he moves into his space. I roll my eyes. Stupid, conceited man.
“Freedom ring?” the prince questions. “As in, there’s a chance to leave?” He rubs his chin, and I notice the dark shadow of facial hair that has darkened his features overnight. “Is there a season that has to be won, or can someone gain five wins during their entire imprisonment?”
Crew’s eyebrows pinch together. He’s clearly despondent that he hasn’t succeeded in intimidating the prince. “We’re in a season right now, you weakling. If you don’t win—you’re dead. Which by the looks of you, will happen in your first match.”
Prince Caben nods, as if he’s simply piecing together a jigsaw puzzle and not being told of his demise. “What is the cuff for?” He points to the iron clamp around Crew’s wrist.
“It’s our biometric monitor.” Crew shoves the cuff up close to the prince’s face. “See those three blue lights? Those are my wins. When the fifth lights up, I’m outta’ here.”
“Has anyone ever won the freedom ring before?” Prince Caben asks.
Crew’s massive arms tremble. “No,” he grinds out. “But I will.” He cocks his cuffed hand back, then sends a blow to Prince Caben’s chin.
Hell.
I’m up and racing across the cell before the prince hits the ground. Crew spots me from his peripheral. He turns and swipes the air. I duck, roll, and come up behind him. I jump on the cot and leap onto his back.
“You squirrely little . . .” he mumbles, trying to reach over his shoulders to get a hold on me.
Tightening my arms around his thick neck, I squeeze. He gasps for air, and rams my back into the wall. I wheeze as the air whooshes from my lungs, pain splintering through my already bruised chest. But I hold tight, bearing down harder, and cut off his supply of oxygen.
Finally, I feel Crew weaken beneath my hold. He drops to his knees, and I only release him once I’m sure he’s knocked out.
Stepping around the now limp Crew, I glance at all the wide eyes studying me, and meet the prince’s. Fury ignites his stormy blue irises. He picks himself off the floor and heads toward one of the side chambers, throwing the tattered material aside as he stalks inside.
I follow after him. When I step inside the tiny, dank room, my eyes trail Prince Caben as he paces. He reaches each side of the small chamber with three quick strides. Back and forth.
On his third round, I open my mouth and get out a single syllable before he holds up a hand, halting me. He drives his hand through his dark hair. “Thank you for making me look like a spineless jerk.” He shakes his head and faces me.
Taken aback, I say, “This is my duty to protect—”
“No. In your country it was your duty to guard me. In my world and here”—he opens his arms wide—“a man fights his own battles. He does not depend on a woman to fight them for him. You just disgraced me.”
Fire simmers in my core. “I’m still assigned as your protector no matter what realm we inhabit, Your High—” I stop myself before addressing him by title out of habit. “Your pride is polluting your reasoning.”
He laughs. “Yes, well. Thanks to your show out there, I no longer have my pride to worry about.” His deep eyes bore into me before he shakes his head again and leaves.
I don’t understand how getting the life beat out of him would have proved anything to Crew or the other prisoners. He would’ve looked just as weak in my eyes, and probably in theirs, also. But maybe he has a small, if not twisted and skewed point. Carina embarrassed me when she belittled me before the Nactue, and I was outraged.
Exiting the small chamber, I hear the barred door unlatch and look over to see Bax and two of his Otherworlder cronies entering the cell.
“You two,” he says, pointing his crooked finger at Prince Caben and then me. “Time for placement.”
The prince’s eyes meet mine, and I lift an eyebrow.
If the prince wants to fight his own battles, then he’s about to get his wish.
The alcove narrows once we exit the cell. A cramped and dank corridor leads us down a long, winding path toward a larger encampment. Steam hisses from ventilation systems along the walls, and giant wheels with deep, rusted cogs turn and grind, pumping out water through a filter.
As much as the Otherworlders value mercury, I have yet to spy any mercury-powered devices or technology. What are they using the mineral for? Why all the warring and trading of human life to obtain it?
My thoughts are interrupted as Bax jabs the hilt of his sword into my back, driving me to walk toward Pale Face seated at a square metal table.
“Lord Arnik,” Bax addresses Pale Face. “Our new contenders are ready to earn their ranks.”
A wheezing sound escapes Arnik’s lips as he
rises from his seat. If Bax is our league’s ring leader, why does he report and takes orders from this decrepit Otherworlder?
Arnik nods. “Test the protector first,” he says. “I’d like to see how she stacks up against her sisters.” He spits this last word like it tastes bad in his mouth.
Two giant wheels turn, and the barred wall along the side of the chamber begins to slide open. A ruckus of noise bleeds into the room, filling it with cheers, shouts, and stomping from the risers surrounding the Cage.
Bax gives my back a push, shoving me toward the opening leading into the Cage.
“Wait—” Arnik yells, and coughs. He clears his throat with a forced, rattling exhale. “Check her for anything she could use as a weapon. I want this to be a clean fight to determine her worth.”
Fear prickles my spine, and I step backward, away from the advancing guards. “Your brutes have already patted me down,” I say, keeping my voice level. This is true, but they didn’t do a thorough inspection beneath my uniform. If they had, they would’ve found the clamp in my chest.
Bax grunts. “Sweep her with the wand.”
The hairs on my body stand at end as the burly Otherworlder approaches with the metal detecting rod outstretched. I squeeze my eyelids closed and pray to Alyah for a miracle. I pray so hard my lips tremble.
The guard starts at my boots and the wand illuminates blue. “Take them off,” he orders.
I slip out of my steel-toed boots, and he works the device up my legs, pausing at the bottom button of my uniform shirt. He sneers, a wicked grin crossing his stretched face. He continues to move the wand higher, and when it flashes a bright blue over my chest, I stop breathing.
“Remove your shirt,” the guard commands, his voice thick with pleasure.
My mouth trembles open. My eyes flick over the others in the room and land on the prince. His arms flex as he grips the edge of the table, his features strained. I look ahead, close my eyes, and reach for the last button of my shirt.
Of Silver and Beasts (Goddess Wars) Page 10