Vengeance (The Prince's Games Book 1)

by Rebecca Grey

  During our conversation, Hedda jumps from one dirt platform to the next, easily missing the arrows. Marcello walks up next, Juilliard behind him, then Sloane, then Finnegan who arches a brow at me before he too makes it over in a blur of movement.

  All of them gather at the end, leaving plenty of space between them and the other team, the three of them, on the final hole. It's definitely faster to go over than under as they have.

  As the Dryad girl had done, I walk back to the start of the narrow hall. I'll sprint to give myself good momentum. Without my boot, which Hedda now holds protectively, I take off at an uneven run. It's enough though and I push off with the foot that's still covered with a shoe for good traction.

  I do as they'd all done, Hedda being the only one I could watch since she alone wasn't a streak in my vision, pulling my legs up to my chest the moment my feet leave the ground. Air whooshes by me as the arrow is thrown and absorbed into the opposite wall. It doesn't so much as slow the creeping crawl of the snakes.

  In the small dirt platform, I let my feet only barely touch as I take the entire space of it to hurdle over it and push off of its very edge. The next arrow comes at my waist, so I push off with more effort to make sure I get the height I need to go over.

  In all honesty, this reminds me of the training drills Arron used to have me do to help me practice before I began jumping from roof to roof. It feels familiar and easy.

  That's my mistake. Funny thing about mistakes, actually not fun at all, is when you start making them, you can't seem to stop. Not that I was ever perfect before, but fuck I was better than this. At the next jump where I'll be leaping over the last of the other team the arrow shoots high. I'm too high.

  I've judged the force to which the arrows are being shot out with too much grace as well. I realize it when the tip of an arrow slices against my ribcage and knocks me from the air.

  Pain travels through my body all the way down to my feet as I slam against the ground. The taste of mud fills my mouth. I lift my head, staring at the Werewolf standing next to me. I stand up, not caring enough to wipe the mud from my face.

  The girl across from me, frozen in the mud pit as her feet sink into the ground, holds her breath. Dark brown hair curls out from under her shirt sleeves on her wrist and her hand. The hair on her head is bound in multiple ponytails, each as thick as the last.

  I stand and she leans away, eyeing me up then down. Her gaze travels to the wound on my side where my shirt has been torn clean open and the skin peels away from the cut. An ache blooms against my side.

  "Will you ever not let your pride get in the way of your safety? How you've lived this long is beyond me." Juilliard lays flat on his stomach, reaching down for me.

  “What about, ‘Are you okay, Nilsa?’ ‘You’re doing great Nilsa.’ No?” I sigh.

  He's higher up than I realize, the pit deeper than I originally expected, even after peeking down into them. I stretch an arm up for him wincing, but my fingers don't even brush his. The werewolf watches me as I try to jump, but the sticky mud below holds me in place like cement.

  "What the fuck?" I gasp.

  "What?" Juilliard's eyes grow wide and he slides a little farther down, reaching as Finnegan and Sloane hold his legs in place.

  "The mud. It's not mud. It's...It's some sort of adhesive." I examine my feet. One foot clad in my boot, the other in a damp sock. Lifting a leg slowly the mud lets go, but when I put my momentum into a jump up it locks down.

  In slow deliberate movements the wolf is at my side. I twist away, throwing up my hands, ready to land a punch at her jaw if I must. I pant as the pain in my shoulder pulses with the movement.

  "We are wasting time here." She looks up at her team, some of which look as if they are ready to leave her behind, then interlocks her fingers whispering so low I hardly hear her. "I'll help you up if you give me your shoe."

  "What are you going to do with my shoe?" I can't hardly trust my own team, can I trust her?

  “Just act as if you’ve lost it on your way up so I can use it and not lose face with my team.”

  I give her the slightest bob of my head and she doesn't miss it. She has to trust me as much as I trust her. Clutching her fingers, she squats. I bend, loosening the laces of my boot. Lifting my first foot, with the now brown sock, I put my weight into her hand. She holds me easily.

  Juilliard's arm is firm. I grab his forearm and he grabs mine. He lets out a long breath looking down at me and a smile spreads over his lips. I start to smile back but when the wolf lifts me further and Juilliard pulls me up, I groan in pain. The boot falls under me.

  The Elf hooks his arms under me, hoisting me up. I roll out his arms the moment my shins hit the ground. Marcello moves, standing over me.

  "Looks like that hurts," he points.

  "Yeah and it won't heal as quickly as yours. You seem like you're already much better."

  "I won't be later when Juilliard has to fix the rib for healing wrong." He turns, watching the wolf make the leap to our level. "Smart girl. She used your boot to jump off."

  Her and the team give us only the smallest second look before they start sprinting off into the maze again. I force myself up. Hedda, Finnigan and Sloane turn to head down the rest of the maze. I wave them forward, knowing that both Juilliard and Marcello will stare at me like idiots until I acknowledge that I'm okay to move forward.

  “We’ll get you new boots,” Marcello adds with certainty.

  My second pair in the span of a week, I think. It's nothing to Marcello, but for me it's like I'm suddenly drowning in some new found wealth with unlimited boots at my disposal.

  "Will you bleed out too much before we can reach the end?" Hedda calls from ahead. We take a turn, making sure to stay out of reach from the snakes. The wolf's team is long gone from our view. Dead end.

  "No. I'm fine." I lie, not really feeling fine at all. But at least I know that I'm not going to bleed out in the way that Hedda's suggesting. She really is a Human curious creature. She never asks Marcello these questions.

  My socks slap against the ground as we walk, feeling heavy with moisture. The farther we go, the more dust collects on the mud and the dark brown eventually changes to a lighter one. Behind me, every step I've made is marked.

  Everyone else stays quiet, listening as other teams shout to one another within the maze. How close are we to the next obstacle? It takes a few different paths of finding dead ends and making our way back as we explore to find the exit before there's a stretch of silence in the entire arena.

  "Do you think the other teams made it through already?" Sloane asks.

  "Surely not, dear," Finnegan answers.

  "Do you think they've all been killed?" I ask, drawing their frowns to the back of our caravan.

  "So soon? Not likely." Marcello sighs. "If everyone died in the first event there wouldn't be any more entertainment."

  Another turn and then another until I'm certain we've already seen this path and the one before. It all looks the same. Identical long green walls of slipping and sliding snakes who hiss and stretch out at every opportunity. The long walk is silent as we listen for waiting danger. I'm more nervous about hearing nothing than I am about hearing screaming.

  For hours we move in this fashion. Up a hall, down another, always looking for the next bit of danger that never comes. Halls end with no promises that bring us closer to the end of this maze.

  I hate mazes. Every year when the summer harvest comes to an end the farmers put one up for the kids to run through. It's much smaller than the one I've been wandering today, and this one is filled with screams where the other is filled with giggles. Still, today has ruined mazes for me for the rest of my life. I'll never do one again, I swear, as if the promise to the Saints will get me through this faster.

  Hedda pushes on ahead with the Vampires at her back. She lets out a surprised gasp as she takes another bend. Finnegan and Sloane turn around to look at us before we make the turn. They each press a finger to thei
r lips begging us not to make a sound.

  My wound throbs as my heartbeat hammers on. I walk faster, pressing my hand into Marcello's back to push him to move just as fast. Juilliard stays a pace behind me, keeping a respectable distance that I don't allow Marcello.

  When the scales of serpents give way to our next horrifying view, I suck in all the air around me, swearing that I've left none for anyone else. The end of the maze waits. A long hall, without any more reptiles, will lead us to a place where we can heal and prepare for another day.

  If I sprint, I can get there in a few short minutes. If I sprint, I'll run right into the shining silver web of the spider whose legs are just as long as I am tall. A hundred eyes blink, but not one of them is looking at us.

  Every predatory stare of the beady arachnid eyes remains focused on one thing, the wolf girl who had helped me out of the mud not long ago. Her entire team is gone except one girl who stands at the exit, shouting up to her.

  "Noor, hang on! I'll find a way to get you down." The Vampire's glowing eyes search the ground for something, anything to use, but there isn't anything around but the spider, its web, and us watching from a distance.

  Noor doesn’t call back. Her face twists with the realization that this will be how she dies. The spider lunges forward.

  Where I come from, Hybrids don't help you. And if they do, it’s only for their own personal gain. Maybe that's all that small exchange had been between Noor and myself. She helped me so she could help herself.

  So why can't I help it when I let out a scream of my own when the spider moves? My voice cuts through the air, synchronizing with Noor's own shriek of panic.

  Strings of white web are curled around her body, holding her hostage to the spider. A black buzzing camera flies around them like a gnat.

  "Hey!" I push through the group. Without a thought, I lift my arms to wave at the creature and draw its attention away. Agony spikes. All the air within me rushes out of my lungs as I double over to hold my side.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I curse myself. Let the girl die. Let her die and you can make it around the web and into the fucking Safe Haven.

  A hundred eyes blink in random order, all fixated on the woman. Not a single one turns to watch me or us. Its mouth opens revealing not just a regular mouthful, but layers upon layers of teeth. A shrill shriek escapes the creature. So Human-like that I shudder.

  It blows the loose strands of silk away from Noor's face and a tremble runs through her body as well. I open my mouth again and Marcello is at my side.

  "It's a demonacci spider. It's deaf and can't hear you, that's why it has so many eyes." He ignores my grunt of pain and turns me to the edge of the large open square area the spider has built its home in. "We must go."

  My eyes flick from the girl, to the spider, then to the web where there's enough space between the strands for us to pass through in single file. As a unit, the rest of my team edges as close to the shifting walls as they dare. They tiptoe to avoid drawing the creature’s attention.

  If me sprinting out into the middle of the space while trying to frantically wave my arms isn't going to catch its attention, then walking on the outskirts sure as hell won't distract it from its next meal.

  She's a Hybrid. I repeat to myself. She deserves to die. Deep down, she's like everyone else you've ever met. She deserves this. She deserves death.

  My lips betray me as I speak, moving with some sort of shame or even guilt, making my limbs heavy and numb. "She helped me, and now we're just gonna leave her to die."

  "This is the fucking Oasis Games. This isn't some friendly neighbor help neighbor game. We want our competitors to die, remember?" Marcello says, though his words feel forced and stiff.

  Juilliard looks back at us, then up to the girl. He nods his head too. They all look just as guilty as I feel right now. I take a deep breath and all of my mental walls come rising back up with it until I'm just a girl who has to walk through this web and get to the other side. Until a smile cracks over my lips when Noor finally screams.

  The Vampire on the other side falls back into the shadows. There's nothing she can do for her friend now as the spider slices a long-hooked claw over her gut and all her organs fall to the ground with a wet slap.

  Her blood makes the smell of copper thick in the air, even to my faint Human senses. I breathe it in. Death is a part of my everyday life, why should I balk at this one? She might have helped me to help herself, but Marcello's right, I don't owe her a thing. Her death only pushes me to victory.

  Most of the team has made its way through the strands of the web, only me and Marcello at my back left. I touch the rope expecting it to be sticky, to catch against my skin and threaten to hold me there against my will. It isn't. Not at all.

  I trace a finger over it quickly before ducking underneath. Smooth as silk, strong as a chain link, and I know that if I run my hand over it in just the right way it would cut me like a blade.

  Another splatter of the werewolf's body is tossed to the ground. I look, only to realize she isn't screaming anymore. No, she can’t even possibly still be alive. The entirety of her skin has been stripped from her skeleton, flattened as if it's an old bag that's gotten too much use to hold its structure anymore, in a heap in the dirt.

  The flying camera lowers from the spot where it watched Noor die. How much did the audience watch when the spider peeled away the layers of her body? All of it? Blades spin on the camera's back as it follows us into the hall.

  I've seen blood and gore. I've played in it before too. Letting someone's death bring me one moment of peace before my days of torment continue. This is different. This is twisted in ways I've never experienced. This is new, and it wipes the numb smile off my face in an instant.

  "We did it." Marcello relaxes.

  A darkness consumes us as we leave the light of the arena. Before leaving the tunnel, where white light bleeds in, a screen waits for us to walk by where we can see ourselves in a mirror.

  "Smile and wave." Marcello pauses, and the roar of cheering carries all the way to where we stand.

  I hold my rib cage, unwilling to lift my gaze or let them cheer for what we'd just done. I haven't achieved anything, not yet. So far all I've successfully done is amuse a few thousand Hybrids for an evening. My feet barely stop at the camera before I shuffle forward.

  "Someone help stitch me up," I demand.

  "Ooh, can I volunteer?" Juilliard speaks up.

  "We all know you're the only one who can." Marcello strolls by his friend, following me into the bright light. "He's the one trained as a medic," he adds, before my vision has time to adjust.

  Our Safe Haven is as large, if not larger than the warehouses in The Bend's Magic Corner. Here there are no wanna-be-witches with their tonics, powders, or otherwise useless, albeit pretty, rocks. Instead the room is a colorful splash of small tents and metal fire pits. Along the side of the room the floor has been dug out, leaving a long strip for a flowing bit of water to run through, like a stream.

  Noor's teammates trudge through the room talking. Only the one girl who had stood waiting for some desperate way to rescue her friend lags behind. Mavi’s team is here too. Gloating around one of the fire pits, which doesn't surprise me in the least. They could care less that Davison is dead. Each of their faces is still splattered with his blood they've yet to bother washing off.

  That makes me more furious at the way they had played him. At the very least they could show some respect, they wouldn't be here without him. If only it was Mavi who had been given to the Criosphinx instead.

  As if he heard his name in my thoughts, his green gaze locks on mine. His eyes drag down my battered body, stopping on my mud-covered sock feet before he gives me the slightest smirk. His slender fingers push back his blonde hair. The small grin on his face disappears altogether when he turns his attention to Marcello.

  "Ah, team Windsor! Has everyone made it through?" A centaur with a long torso asks. I hardly realize he's even standing there
with a clipboard at first, but anything to forget about the pain in my side for a moment will do. He stretches his neck, counting my team.

  "All here," Marcello responds. "Do you have medical equipment?"

  The centaur dips his head. "Your team has been assigned to the purple tents. You'll find all medical supplies available for your own use in the large white tent in the corner of the room." He points a finger to the opposite corner.

  "Very well. Thank you." Marcello scratches at a marring red droplet on his shirt.

  "I'm going for a nap," Hedda breathes, shuffling around us to head in the direction of our tents.

  Five different colors for five different teams. We're staying in the purple tents and it's clear that Mavi and his team were assigned the golden tents. The mostly female team has made their way to the deep emerald toned tents, which only leaves blue and orange for the last two teams who haven't made it in yet.

  "Let’s get this done before I bleed out." I look pointedly at Juilliard.

  "Maybe you should ask nicely." He scowls and heads for the white tent, Marcello and I hot on his trail.

  "That's not going to keep him from fixing me, is it?" I whisper to Marcello.

  With one wide hand, Marcello urges me through the tents to the one with the medicinal supplies. His warmth makes my body flash with heat, and I'm already sweaty enough from the maze.

  "What will you do if he doesn’t?" The Elf asks.

  "Do it myself." With the very, very basic knowledge I have.

  When we pass Mavi’s team, whatever conversation they've been holding goes quiet. Most of them watch us as we pass. Most of them watch me. Apart from Mavi, a few of them even look surprised that I've made it this far. I'm sure the king is. And nothing brings me more satisfaction than that.

  Even now after practically watching Davison's death, my eyes still linger amongst the men as if searching for him. I'm looking for the only Human I've met in decades. I'm looking for that one sign of hope that I'm not alone.

  I scold myself quickly. I'm not shocked by it. I protected myself for this very reason. Even if all this means I lost some sort of small alliance, what it really means is I lost one of the last pieces of humanity.