The Arbiter waited for me in the resting chamber. I sat on a bench against the wall and leaned back, my gaze on the white globes of light. “I don’t want to do it,” I said to him.
“Who says you will win?”
I gave him a long look.
“If you do not kill him, he will kill you,” he said.
“Can the pact be unmade? Can I spare him and walk free?”
“Absolutely not.”
I thought about this for a moment. “What if I made a new pact with you?”
His eyes gleamed from beneath his hood. “What sort of pact?”
What did the Arbiter want? “The doorways that are opening, does anyone know why?”
“No.”
“What if I found out what was causing it?”
His lips curved into a smile. “That may be acceptable. There are always terms, however, Nicole.” He drew close to me, until I had to crane my neck to look into his face. “You must complete this task within two weeks, mortal time, and you’ll provide me with proof. If you do not, I will take your life as compensation.”
“A month,” I countered. “And I want the chance to earn legal status.”
“Done,” said the Arbiter.
For a moment I wondered if I was doing something incredibly stupid. But my ice in the dragon’s mouth idea, stupid though it was, had worked. Maybe I was on a roll. I would have knocked on wood if there’d been any in the room, instead of just cold stone.
“Then I can bring Haldor to a yielding position, and Grian will crown me the victor.”
“Oh, Nicole.” The Arbiter shook his head. “You have only bargained with me, not Grian. Whether or not the Sidhe accept Haldor’s yielding as your victory is not a matter between you and me. That is between you and the Sidhe.”
I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my frustration. I’d heard the roar and the jeers of the crowd. People didn’t generally go away satisfied from a game that had been played to a draw. I didn’t imagine the Sidhe would be happy until one of us was dead. I had to find a way to sway the crowd. If I could do that, I was sure Grian would follow.
Too soon, the bell rang again. I hauled myself to my feet, my toes now numb, and headed to the door.
“A month,” the Arbiter said, his voice a whisper. “Do not forget, Nicole.” Clearly the Arbiter didn’t know much about people. It’d be sort of hard to forget I had death breathing down the back of my neck, with only a month to find out what was causing the doorways to open.
The dragon had been cleared from the Arena, as well as the ice and the iron net. Haldor strode out of his door on the other side of the Arena, looking just as haggard as I felt. He’d discarded his shield and now held only his sword. His armor, too, he’d left behind. We moved to our spots at the center and waited.
“It has been a good fight,” Haldor said. Above us, Grian rose to her feet, and the crowd quieted. “I’ve seen Merlin fight. There is something of him in your manner, though your Talents differ. It would not shame me to die by your hand, though I fear the consequences.”
The consequences? The image of the man’s face flashed in my mind again, the one that looked so much like Haldor. He didn’t trust Grian. “She has someone,” I said, grasping onto this, “someone you love.” Grian flung the red kerchief into the Arena.
His grim expression cracked. “My brother. She says he stole from her, but it’s not true. I thought if I killed you, she might let him go.”
Renewed confidence spread through me, like hot chocolate on a cold winter day. I’d made a good decision, making that bargain with the Arbiter. Killing Haldor would not be something I’d have lived with easily. “You’re a good man,” I said, “or so I’ve been told. I believe it now.”
The red handkerchief drifted between us. It brushed the floor.
I lifted Kailen’s sword and met Haldor’s with a clash. No more tricks, no more dragons or transformations. Just his blade against mine. Neither of us had time to stop and consider any other options. Though exhaustion dogged my heels, and I was hungry enough to eat an entire pizza on my own, I pushed hard, throwing every last bit of Talent I had into my swordplay. Tristan needed me. Lainey needed me. I had to set right the things I’d done wrong, merely by existing.
A slip to the side, a slash, a parry, and a thrust. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he struggled to keep pace with me. He grimaced each time our blades met. We moved across the Arena floor as I pushed Haldor toward the wall. He tried to dodge to the side, to get out from under my blade, but I darted with him, caught his shoulder with the edge of Kailen's sword.
Blood sprang from the wound, darkening the off-white of his shirt. Both Haldor and the crowd drew in a collective breath—Haldor in pain, the crowd in anticipation.
I stood there, numb for a moment. First blood, by my hand. The Guardian took the opportunity to slash at me. I jumped back, giving ground, raising my sword automatically. I blocked his blade, but only just in time. I couldn't let myself get distracted by the vagaries of battle. The fighting was in my blood; I just had to let it take over, to forget, for a moment, my bargain with The Arbiter, forget how tired I felt.
Haldor thrust, trying to work a way around my guard. I danced to the side and swatted at his blade, putting him off balance. I struck him with the flat of my sword, tipping him to the point he had to put a foot out to catch himself.
Now. With two more swipes, I numbed his fingers and struck the sword from his grip. The roaring of the crowd ceased, making me feel as though I'd suddenly gone deaf. The sound of Haldor's sword striking the floor rung in my ears.
I wasn't sure when I'd moved again, but I stood with my blade at Haldor's neck, so close he must have felt it tickling at the hairs on his skin. He stood frozen in a half-crouch, hand outstretched, as though he'd intended to pick up the sword he'd lost.
“You have your victory, Changeling,” he said. He closed his eyes, let his hand fall back at his side. “Take it.”
I felt more than saw the crowd of the Arena lean inward, their bodies forming a cocoon, an enclosure. A place where one Fae would die, his preternaturally long life cut terribly short. My breathing sounded overly loud in my ears, a rasping sound as my throat grew tight.
“No.” I whispered it at first, then swallowed. Haldor had heard me. I could see it in his wide, uncomprehending eyes. “No.” This time, the rest of the Arena heard. I'd practically yelled it into a silence profound as the one within the Void.
When no one said anything, I folded Kailen's sword back into a tube and hooked it onto the waistband of my pants. I reached a hand out to Haldor. “I'm not going to kill you,” I told him. Hesitantly, he stretched his hand to meet mine.
“No?” Grian's voice drifted down from the Arena's balcony. “You made a pact with the Arbiter, one that cannot be unmade.”
Well, that showed how much she knew. I helped Haldor to his feet. “You okay?”
He nodded and finally seemed to find his voice again. He spoke in an undertone. “Grian is right. Only one of us may leave this Arena alive.”
“Let me worry about that,” I said.
I turned to Grian. “I fought Haldor and won.”
She stood at the edge of her balcony. “The trial is to the death, Changeling,” she said. “The terms have not been satisfied.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? If they have not been met, then the Arbiter can come strike me down himself.” A gasp ran through the crowd. Maybe it wasn't wise, provoking the Arbiter, but I had to trust that the new pact we'd made overruled the first. The most he could do was grind his teeth at my insolence, and that didn't bother me. He was kind of an asshole, anyways.
When nothing happened, the gasps devolved into frenzied muttering. I wondered what they thought. How many of them had been around when the last Changelings were alive? How much did they know of what I could do and my limitations? I had my suspicions that any information had been skewed against me.
“I won,” I said to Grian. “I may not have killed my
opponent, but I won.”
She bared her teeth, her pretty face going feral. “You do not win until I say you have won—and that is not until you've killed your opponent.”
I strode forward, closer to the center of the Arena, closer to Grian. “Grian,” I said, “the Arbiter seems to think the conditions have been satisfied. This isn’t your decision to make; it’s his. Why would you insist that I kill the Guardian? People might start talking, thinking that you don't want the Guardians around.”
I'd been to high school. I knew how to start a rumor. The murmuring of the crowd increased.
“Why don’t you want the Guardians around?” I called out.
“That's not what...” She paused, gathered herself. “It appears we have a victor.” And then she smiled, and I didn’t like that expression on her face, not one bit.
I waited. Grian may have been a Queen, but the crowd held sway in the Arena. The muttering died down but no one cheered. No one booed, either. I was on my own. Maybe they were still half-expecting the Arbiter to show up and take me away.
I approached the balcony. “I believe you owe me a crown.” I couldn’t see Tristan, but I was sure he still sat at her feet. She wouldn’t let him get too far from her grasp.
“Of course.” She pressed her hand into the white stone of the balcony railing. With a grinding sound, steps appeared out from the wall, leading up to Grian’s seat.
I checked behind me briefly. Haldor had risen and was retreating toward the opened door on his side of the Arena. No one paid him any attention. He grasped his shoulder where I’d cut him, but he’d be okay.
I’d conquered my fear of death (somewhat). Time to conquer my fear of heights. I climbed, trying to keep my mind on Tristan, and not on how small the steps were, or how far they were from the ground.
Grian waited at the top. She’d produced a crown from somewhere, probably from the voluminous folds of her dress. It was woven of rose branches, the leaves and thorns stripped, leaving only the red blooms.
Tristan.
He stood now, still playing with the golden ball. She’d dressed him in an outfit to match her own. Green doublet, green tights, green velvet shoes—all trimmed with gold. He looked like he belonged at a Renaissance fair.
“Hey, sweetie,” I said. He didn’t look up.
Now would have been a good time to have a plan. I was close to Grian, like I’d wanted, but how could I take the secret of the ball’s destruction from her? I’d thought I would have come up with something by the time I came to claim my crown. But I’d spent all my time and energy trying to figure out how to survive in the Arena.
She extended the crown at waist level and waited, her lips still quirked in that nasty smile.
I took a step forward and knelt. The movement brought me level with Tristan. He stared through me and tipped the ball from hand to hand.
Grian wouldn’t tell me what could destroy the ball. But what if I tried to take it from her?
A shadow fell over my eyes as she set the crown on my head. No more time to plan. Now or never. I grabbed her hand. I tried to read her mind and fell into a torrent of light.
Piercing pain shot through me, like needles.
Honestly, Nicole, said Grian. Did you really think it would work? I am Talented in mind magic. You are insignificant in this Arena. You’ve made this so, so easy.
I was falling, falling into a thousand spears of brightness, each one sharper than a blade. I couldn’t right myself, couldn’t grab onto anything.
The world went dark.
What is it that makes Nicole tick, I wonder?
Images whirled in front of me. They were the pieces of my life, and Grian sifted through them as though she were shuffling through old files. My first date, my first kiss, that embarrassing time in seventh grade I didn’t realize the back of my dress was tucked into my underwear.
“No!” I cried out.
A low chuckle echoed through my mind. Ah, does this bother you?
Something in me swelled—a tide of emotion, of anger, of grief and despair. I gathered it, breathed out, and pushed.
The darkness bent and gave way. I brushed past it and into the light again. This time, though, I had my two feet beneath me. No more images, no more sifting through my mind. Grian said nothing.
What was mind magic like? If this was it, how could I get into Grian’s thoughts?
I imagined a door and gave it a nudge of emotion. A door appeared in the white space in front of me. I tried the knob. Locked.
So I imagined a key in my hand. This time, the knob turned, but a chain stopped me from continuing further. I imagined an axe and hacked through it with one swipe.
Beyond the door…
I caught only a glimpse. A massive, hulking monster with jaws large as my torso, skin rippling and moist. A little girl with blond hair appeared next to me, her hand on the door, trying to push it shut.
Grian pulled me away from the image, back into the darkness, shuffling through my memories again. I felt her pluck one away from the rest, a stinging pain like the pulling of hair. I caught a brief glimpse of it—a hooded figure, pale lips moving. I heard my reply as if through earplugs: “Done.” My memory of the bargain I’d made with the Arbiter. She walled it away as I screamed.
And then the world returned in a blink. Grian pulled her hand from mine, and the crown settled. No one said a word. Had it only been a moment?
“Rise, victor,” Grian said.
I rose, not sure what else to do. The Queen regarded me for a moment before leaning in. She breathed in my ear and I flinched. “Nicole,” she said, “I know how to break you.”
I stood perfectly still.
She pulled away, reached down, and plucked the golden ball from Tristan’s grasp. His eyes unclouded. Grian put a hand to his back and nudged him in my direction. “Take him,” she said.
There had to be a catch.
“Auntie Nicky?” Tristan said. His lower lip wobbled.
I had him in my arms before I realized I’d moved. He started to cry. I rubbed his back. “Shhh, it’s okay. I’m taking you home, back to Mommy and Daddy.”
“For trying to invade my mind,” Grian said, “I banish you from my realm. If any of my subjects sees you here, they are to kill you on sight. Any other families that offer you safe harbor will have to answer to me.”
A low murmur ran through the crowd. I searched the crowd for Dorian and found him seated near Grian’s box. He studiously avoided my gaze.
Grian drew a piece of moonstone from the folds of her dress. She walked to the wall behind her seat and drew a doorway. She moved to the side. “Nicole, I am letting you go.”
“I…what?” I still knelt on the ground, my arms around my nephew.
“You are to return to the mortal world and not trouble me again. And why should you? You have nothing left to fight for.” Her icy blue eyes glittered as she spoke. “Go. Now. Before I change my mind.”
I didn’t ask again. I clutched Tristan tight to my chest and stood. “Hold on, kiddo. I want you to close your eyes.” Without waiting for confirmation, I plunged through the doorway.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I arrived at the stadium mid-morning. The chilly air struck me, sending goosebumps up and down my arms. I didn’t have my phone, so I started to walk. I’d walked for twenty minutes, shivering the entire way, when someone pulled over and offered a ride. I was exhausted and hurried, and with Tristan in my arms, swathed in bright green, and me dressed in only a sports bra, pants, and a crown of roses, I certainly stood out. The woman looked nice enough, so I agreed. I made up a story about my car breaking down, a costume party, and losing my phone in one day. She made sympathetic noises and dropped me off right in front of Lainey’s house.
Tristan slept. Poor kid. Must have been a lot to go through. I hoped he didn’t remember any of it in the morning. Last thing I wanted was to be the cause of a huge therapy bill for Lainey and Mark.
Lainey opened the door before I even had a cha
nce to knock. She swept Tristan from my arms, clasping him tight, the tears running down her face as she kissed his cheeks, his forehead, his nose. “My baby,” she said. “You’re safe, you’re okay.”
Tristan wrapped his arms around her neck.
“Thank you,” Mark came up from behind Lainey, carrying Justine. His face was wet with tears.
“What happened?” Lainey said, her arms still around Tristan. She lifted him.
How could I explain everything? I felt empty, like a hollowed-out gourd. “I won,” I said simply.
“You want to stay, honey? I can make up the couch for you.”
I shook my head. “I just want to go home. Can you drive me?”
She nodded. “Sure, sweetie. Give me just a second.” She took Tristan inside, readied him for bed. I lingered in the hallway and rested my head against the wall. I’d won. Why didn’t I feel like I’d won? I’d probably still have problems with hobgoblins and random Fae wanting to kill me, but at least Grian would leave me alone. And yet she’d wanted to let me go. It didn’t make any sense.
I needed to rest, to take a hot bath, to sleep in my own bed. In the morning I’d feel more like myself, and these things would make more sense.
Mark approached me before I left, a couple boxes in his hand. “Ammo,” he said, pressing them into my palm. “Keep the gun. I have the feeling you need it more than I do.” I didn’t protest.
Lainey drove me home, leaning over every once in a while to pat my back or give me a worried look. “You seem different,” she told me at a stoplight. “Like you’re not all there.”
“I almost killed a man. I’m tired. I’m hungry. I had my brains rattled by a Fae Queen. Can’t expect me to be normal right now.”
“Okay,” Lainey said, though she sounded uncertain. She took a deep breath. “Well, if you need anything, I’m just a phone call away, okay?”
I looked out the window and watched the streetlights and houses pass by in a blur. “I just need my life to be normal again.”
Lainey didn’t say anything for a while. She pulled into my driveway, but when I unbuckled my seatbelt, she grabbed my arm. “I have to tell you this because I’m your sister. You’re not normal, Nicole. You’re a Changeling. Maybe you can go back to your life like it was, but maybe you can’t. I just don’t want to see you try to be something you’re not.”
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