A hand wrapped around my mouth from behind, and Coen’s chest pushed up against my back, his mouth against my ear. “It’s a good idea to stop there,” he murmured.
You’re probably right, I thought.
Aros was shaking his head. “Nothing sexual,” he corrected me. “The pact was that nothing sexual could happen with you, because we don’t want anything fucking up our group dynamic. We don’t want you to die because of our powers. You get that, don’t you, Rocks?”
It almost sounded like a chastisement, and I immediately felt bad. I extracted myself from Coen and wrapped my arm around Aros’s waist, attempting to give him a chaste, girl-brother hug.
“Sorry,” I grumbled, bumping my forehead against his chest. “Do you forgive me?”
He grabbed my arm and drew it around his neck, pulling my other arm up there too. He didn’t answer me, but his body language was pretty clear. He forgave me. He was also a big fat liar, because his hands were low on my spine and he was pulling my body tightly to his.
This wasn’t about the pact.
This was another damned competition. Assholes.
I started to draw away, but before I got the chance, the door snapped open again, colliding with the wall.
“Oops.” That was Rome’s voice—which wasn’t a surprise, because he was the only one who didn’t seem to know how to open a door without almost destroying it. “Hey—what the fuck?”
I started pulling away again, and attempted to find my feet beside the bed. Unfortunately, the shorts tangled my legs up and I had to reach out to Aros to steady myself. Coen also grabbed the back of my shirt at the last possible moment, pulling the material halfway up my torso.
And that was when Yael decided to walk in.
“What the f—” he started, before Aros’s laughter drowned him out. Even Coen was smirking. I guess they’d forgotten their fight with each other, but now I could sense a new fight brewing.
Also, I was basically flashing everyone again, so that didn’t help.
I quickly twisted away from Aros and Coen, pulled the damn shorts up, and made my way over to the door, grumbling beneath my breath. Rome had his arms folded over his chest, and a glare aimed in my direction. He seemed to be waiting for an explanation of some kind. I hoped the others were in an explaining mood, because I certainly wasn’t.
“Where’s Five?” I demanded.
“Right here,” came Siret’s voice from the hallway. In a blink, he was standing in the doorway.
I walked to his side, took his hands, and placed them on my shoulders.
“New clothes,” I grunted.
“They teach all dwellers such good manners?” he asked, turning me to face the others and pulling me back into his chest.
Even though I hadn’t been very gracious in my request, I still felt his power trickling over me, and I worked to push away my temper. I was just beginning to relax into the feel of magic on my skin when a cold, sexless voice penetrated the room.
“All sols and attending dwellers are expected to make their way to the arena within five clicks. This is mandatory.”
“What?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure the voice couldn’t actually answer me. “I thought we still had half a moon-cycle before they called in another arena session.”
Rome hadn’t stopped frowning since entering the room, but now he was scowling. “The gods must have come down early and demanded another show. This isn’t good.”
“How do you know it isn’t good?” I asked, as the black fabric that had begun to encase me started to shift—from pants into a dress, and from a shirt into the upper-half of the dress. The colour also changed from black to purple. Of course, I needed to look fancy for the arena. “Maybe it is good. Maybe all the gods are going to channel their … erm … energy … into watching people fight, instead of wrecking the whole world from a distance?”
Siret stepped back, taking me by the shoulders and spinning me around as everyone else finally stirred themselves into action—it seemed that they had been held momentarily transfixed as Siret dressed me, but were now remembering the disembodied voice that had called us all to the arena.
“They’re perfectly capable of multitasking,” Siret answered me, checking over my outfit before pulling me out of the room. “They’re not like you. They can focus on more than one thing at a time.”
“Are you saying that I’m stupid?” I wrinkled my nose, allowing him to pull me down the corridor.
His clothes were changing as we walked, shifting into the battle-gear that I still wasn’t quite accustomed to seeing. Or at least that was my excuse for almost losing my footing every three steps when I couldn’t seem to focus on both staring at his chest beneath the straps that now crossed over it, and walking.
“Concentrate on walking,” he said, illustrating his point, “and we can argue about it later.”
I heard heavy footsteps behind us, and turned to see the others following, all dressed in their battle outfits. Not that they ever did much battling. Yael mostly just stood there while people humiliated themselves; Siret stood there while pretending to fight; Rome and Aros preferred to hit once, and hit hard. And Coen … well, I hadn’t actually seen him fight anyone. I didn’t count, because I was pretty sure the other girls he fought didn’t feel like jumping him whenever he got close. They were probably too busy wetting themselves. In the bad way.
“Rocks! Watch where you’re—”
It was too late. I smacked into the wall on the other side of the common room, because I’d been too busy trying to crane my neck around to get a better look at the guys. Now I was on my ass again, and it wasn’t just the Abcurses trying not to laugh at me, but a bunch of stupid, blessed sols, too. They were all on their way to the arena, but they certainly had time to stop and watch me fall over.
I bounced back up before anyone could help me up—or pick me up without even offering to help—and then I was marching off toward the arena again.
Nine
I wasn’t the only one with a confused expression as we entered the Sacred Sand arena. A lot of the sols were half-dressed, some still pulling on their outfits as they took their seats. The Abcurses led me back to the same area we had sat in last time, all of them moving into the same row.
I, on the other hand, did not take my seat in the blood bath section. No thank you. This time I was going to keep my pretty dress free from all bodily fluids—mostly the blood kind, but also every other kind, just to be safe. I glanced down the new dress that Siret had designed for me. It was once again purple and fitted, the material soft and flimsy as it hugged my body. There were two layers to the dress—the first a kind of silk, and the second a softer, more velvety texture. The silk part actually fit like a bodysuit, forming tight shorts beneath the velvety section, which fell down in a short skirt. I had on high leather boots with a flat heel, which were probably the softest shoe I had ever worn. My mother might have been skilled, but she was not Trickery-skilled.
Siret, who clearly loved the colour purple, had actually fashioned me something I could move and fight easily in this time—and yet it still looked appropriate for a dweller. The dwellers often wore shorts and skirts instead of the longer robes of the sols. Material—especially nice material—could be expensive. The sol women who were fighting had all dressed in battle gear, but I suppose it would have been presumptuous to dress me in battle gear. That was practically asking for trouble … though the fact that Siret had accommodated for a fight was not a good sign. Which one of the brothers would they expect me to face if they called me into the arena again?
“You okay, Willa?” The voice startled me out of my panicked worry, and I lifted my head to find a mountain beside me.
“Oh, hey Dru,” I said, smiling at the massive sol. My smile only broadened when I noticed that we suddenly had the attention of five gods as they turned as a single group, crossing their arms, and staring us down. Even though all five of them were on a level below the one I stood on, they were still almost eq
ual in height to me.
Aros’s fiery golden eyes burned a hole through me, and something in my centre started to heat. He tilted his head back and I could feel him calling me, urging me to go to them. Digging my nails into my bare arms, I shook my head a few times.
“You picked the worst seats,” I basically shouted. “I don’t want to sit in the blood bath section.”
Dru chuckled beside me, the sound drifting lazily to my ears. “This is definitely a more beneficial row of seats. You might just get a sexy slave in your lap, instead of a severed head.”
Before I could reply, Dru was gone from my side. I started to blink rapidly as I swivelled my head around, trying to figure out what just happened.
Where did he disappear to?
A heavy thump drew my attention to the middle of the arena. I barely managed to stifle my gasp as I spotted Dru sprawled out across the middle of the sands, half up on his hands and knees, shaking his head back and forth as if trying to clear it.
A shout came from the Gamemaster, who was a different sol than last time. This one had long braided red hair, wore an elaborate metal chest piece, and was quite the little sprinter. He dashed across the arena and tried to haul the mountain up.
I could hear him shouting from where I sat. “On your feet! You’re not allowed in here!”
While the Gamemaster had his little breakdown, and a dazed Dru tried to stumble out of the arena, I turned squinty eyes on the five asshole-gods who were still standing in their row, waiting for me to sit down.
“Which one of you … how the hell did you … Argh!”
I threw my hands up and deliberately took a seat two rows back from them. I dropped down heavily, crossed my arms over my chest, and dared any of them to force me to move. I would cut them. With the knife I did not currently have in my possession.
Little help for once, Gods!
Another shriek escaped me as a heavy blade fell into my hands. I jumped up and out of my seat in a flash, turning to give it an accusatory stare. I was pretty sure the seat wasn’t a magical, knife-gifting seat, but I just wanted to check anyway. When it didn’t immediately return my stare, or say anything—instead remaining where it was, like a perfectly normal seat—I turned my head up toward the darkened box which held and hid the gods during arena battles. I wasn’t sure that any of them would be there, since we were only mid-moon-cycle. I thought this was something to do with the sols, but apparently it wasn’t. The gods had decided to up their game.
Or one god at least.
Two guesses which one.
“Willa, why are you holding a blade of Crowe?” Aros barely even startled me as he appeared by my side. Siret was there too, somehow. The others remained on their lower level, but they were keeping a close eye on me.
I finally lifted the weapon to see it clearly. It was heavy and gold, with swirls of a shimmery copper metal spanning the handle. The blade itself started off thick and tapered to a deadly-looking point right at the end. The point was also shimmery—it looked nothing like any blade I had seen before.
“Rocks!” It was Yael this time, and I lifted my head to meet his tumultuous eyes. The greens and golds were swirling in a crazy pattern.
“Gift from the gods,” I said weakly, attempting a smile.
Yael jumped the two rows of seats and then his feet were directly in front of mine and our bodies were pretty much pressed together. “The gods never give gifts without expecting something in return.”
I swallowed hard. “Oh, I’m sure they want something from me, those bastards have never listened to me. For eighteen life-cycles I’ve tried a variety of ways to both curse and beg them, and nothing. Then right now I think about needing a blade to stab you idiots, and one appears in my hand.”
Rome let out a deep laugh, the sound filling the air around us and distracting me from my confusion. “So many gods would be delighted if you stabbed us. A blade of Crowe is one of the few things which can kill a god. Kill them permanently.”
Blood drained from my face as I looked between the five of them. With trembling hands, I held the blade out and let it rest on my palms. “Please take this right now, before someone accidentally dies. Take it!”
Aros lifted the heavy piece from me, and it was gone in a flash. I didn’t see him put it in his pocket or anything, nope, just whoosh and gone.
“Soldier …” Siret suddenly had my full attention. “Why can’t we hear your thoughts any longer?”
I shook my head. “What are you talking about? I haven’t figured out how to block you out.”
Coen and Rome were doing some sort of twin communication thing in their row, before both of them faced me.
Yael was still staring at me. “We haven’t really heard you for a while now, a bit here and there, but nothing like we used to. We’ve been waiting to see if it develops into a pattern of some kind.”
What the actual fuck?
That evil grin twisted Coen’s face, and I couldn’t help but return his smile. I loved that smile, even though I also wanted to run. “You heard that, right?” I flicked my eyes between the two and they nodded.
“Heard you loud and clear,” Aros said, his goldenness increasing with his mirth.
“Looks like you’re finally learning to control which thoughts you share,” Yael noted.
Oh … great. It was totally great, I hated those stupid guys being in my head at all times. I almost definitely hated it.
“Heard that too,” Siret said with a wink. “Your mind is open again. Just shut it down when you feel like some privacy.”
I plonked myself down in my chair again, but before I could get comfortable, there was air under me and I found myself sitting back in the front row. “We like the view,” Siret said when I glared as hard as I could at him.
“If I get one speck of blood on my new dress—”
“I’ll just make you another one,” he interrupted me, turning his head back to face the arena.
We all followed his action because something was happening. Dru was gone—I still had no idea which of the Abcurses had managed to toss him that far without me even seeing them—and lights had started to flash in the open air above the arena sands. The Gamemaster was back in his spot, looking calm and collected. His voice was loud and sure as he welcomed everyone.
“Thank you all for making it here on short notice. The gods have graced us with a special appearance, and would love to see something a little different tonight. They are actively searching for a new god to join their ranks—”
His words were lost in the loud gasps and cries from the crowd. This was a sol’s dream come true. An active search. I personally thought it was a crap excuse. They were not here for that at all.
“Clever, Rocks.” Siret’s expression was hard. The open-mind thing had stuck around, and I still had no idea how I’d managed to switch it off in the first place. It was like when I kicked that couch and it flew across the room, and then I couldn’t do it again. Something was happening to me; something outside of my control.
The Gamemaster was still talking, so I forced my concentration back to him. “We will call a random selection of sols to the arena, and you will have twenty clicks to make it through the obstacle course. Those who make it all the way through go on to the next round. The rest will possibly be sacrificed, depending on the whims of the gods.”
What the actual f—
“New favourite phrase, Willa-Toy?” Yael was attempting to sound calm, but I could sense the undercurrents of his emotions. He was pissed. In fact, judging by the heat and stillness of the guys, all of them were on the edge of losing it.
“Can they just kill sols like that?” I demanded. “Like, aren’t there rules … don’t they have rights and stuff?” Where the hell were Emmy and Atti when I needed rule-book lovers. The Abcurses probably had less of an idea than me. They cared nothing for the inhabitants of Minatsol. This was just a punishment they were enduring before venturing back to the land of floating platforms and Jeffreys.
&
nbsp; “We’re not completely uncaring, Rocks.” Aros butted into my thoughts, and I was starting to miss the unknown privacy that I had been enjoying. It was true that you never really appreciated things until they were gone. Especially if you didn’t even realise you had them in the first place.
“I am.” Yael scowled.
“I stand corrected, not all of us are uncaring of Minatsol inhabitants. We like you.” Aros flashed me a grin, and I felt that pull in my middle again. Forcing myself not to get up and crawl over Siret to reach the seductive god, I instead focussed forward and leaned out in my chair.
Holy father of the gods … damn … how did that happen?
The arena was barely recognisable now. What was once a large, circular, flat area, now had a multitude of obstacles, barriers, water things, fire things, sharp things and biting things splashed about. All the things which regularly tried to end my life just gathered up in one place. There must have been some kind of magic cloaking the obstacle course until now.
Through my horror, I noticed five sols standing around the edge of the sand. Each of them wore looks of concentration as they lifted their hands above their heads. I could see what they were doing now: shifting the land, bringing the water and fire. Those were sols who could control the elements.
The Gamemaster distracted the silent, staring crowds. “If you see your name on the board, enter the underground waiting area. You will be called to the arena shortly. Do not worry if your name is not in the first round, we have five more rounds after this. We will call the strongest and brightest. This is your shot, do not screw it up.”
I shrank down in my chair, trying to make myself look as small as possible. There was no way they’d call me. I wasn’t very strong or very bright … and I also wasn’t a sol.
“Right?” I said out loud, a slight shrill of fear lacing my voice.
Of course no one bothered to answer, since Willa Knight had just flashed up on the screen. “I’m going to kill them.” Coen was up and out of his seat. Rome, Aros, and Yael followed his movements, reaching out to grab a hold of their brother.
Persuasion (Curse of the Gods Book 2) Page 12