Vengeance (The Prince's Games Book 1)

by Rebecca Grey

  A murmur of agreement travels all around me. I turn to look back at Marcello. His attention flicks to my face and he smiles softly. He certainly doesn't look as if he's a weapon all on his own. Maybe that's only because I've gotten to know his kind, playful nature. He is all solid muscle after all.

  The announcer disappears down through the smaller door and the large one opens slowly. You would think that after an entire week of events that I would no longer feel the conscious spike of adrenaline. Yet I do. It makes my clothes sweaty before we've even done anything and my heart pounds loudly inside of my head.

  Bodies move in a swarm down the short hallway. The screen set up with the camera mirrors every anxious glance back at us. Hedda bumps into me, bumping me enough with her wide shoulders that I shift back and walk with Marcello.

  The hall opens up to the crowds for one final time. For the first and last time, I allow myself to be in awe at the grandeur of the arena. Of the seats that climb higher than any of the crumbling buildings I've scaled in The Bend. Amongst it all, it makes me feel small. It makes everything that I could and can do feel less consequential, which calms a nervous part of me.

  All lights are on in the arena and it's hard to see any of the crowd seated in the lowest rows. Platforms and barricades are set up all around a space with trees sprouting in between. A dense forest with every place to hide, but so small there's really nowhere to turn but into madness. What animals hide in the limbs of those green trees? What surprises has King Caspar left for us today?

  When my mind dallies back to the king, I drag my attention back up. Both thrones are filled today. King Caspar looks out proudly over the set up of the floor, but Queen Aradel finds my gaze. Her black hair is parted straight down the middle, loose of any bands and hanging straight to just below her chest. Her blue eyes are a blaze of something... something speculating. She sets her attention on me and I on her. She's absolutely stunning. Then her head dips in a slight nod and she smiles.

  The queen... smiled at me? Not the same taunting smiles I’ve received from the king, not at all. Her smile is bright and hopeful. Maybe I have a friend in these Games after all. The king seems to have had plenty of smiles for me over the course of this week, most of which have hardly been readable and have left me guessing as to what they mean.

  Queen Aradel’s smile leaves me feeling determined. Some sort of pride swelling inside of my chest because, as the announcer had said, even if I don't win today, I've made it further than any Human has before. Suddenly, I've accomplished something... something in my nothing of a life other than destruction.

  Yet another red line has been drawn across the dusty floor. The teams huddle in their small groups when we meet the edge of the event. All eyes, mine included, look to the announcer on his ascent up that same golden platform. He extends his arms out to the crowd, his eyes glistening in the spotlight that follows him.

  "WELCOME TO THE FINAL EVENT!" He screams into the microphone, prompting the crowd to rise to their feet. Howls of excitement and anticipation bounce off the walls and applause threatens to drown out the announcers' next words. "With the honor of the Games, we've lost a few players along the way. Those who stand before you are the finest, bravest warriors all of our great country has to offer. Today will be no easy feat, and I've been assured that every player has brought their own deadly weapon to be used on this very day. Today will finally bring bloodshed!"

  Marcello leans toward me, speaking out of the side of his mouth. He speaks alongside the announcer. "Today the players will have one task. Claim the flag of The Oasis. Claim the throne."

  More applause and I gawk up at the Elf. "How did you know?"

  He half smiles. "Nilsa, every Oasis Game finishes with a 'capture the flag' event. All players going for the same thing, hidden in the arena. I've watched it a thousand times on the video recordings we have of the previous events. You can find them at any library in The Oasis."

  "Library." I say the word to myself, more shocked that he knew what we were to do this entire time and had never thought to inform or prepare me.

  The announcer drones on in the background. Marcello clears his throat and continues, talking more so to our group than just me now. "When he says go, it is customary that any killing does not start until we've made it far into the brush. It allows us all time to disperse. Hedda, I'll need you to find the highest vantage point." She follows his gaze as he looks out. I'm not sure how he can see much farther past the trees. "There." He nods. "Find the flag, watch it, and don't let anyone close who is not on our team."

  The other teams are only a few paces away from us on either side. It would be nothing for us to lunge for each other and finally be at each other's throats. Nothing at all.

  "How many rounds do you have?" I point at her gun.

  "Ten. It's all they would allow me to bring. I wanted to bring my belt with three more magazines with me but they refused."

  They were picky about how we were able to kill. An annoyance, but ten rounds would be plenty, as long as her aim is true. I look back up to Marcello, my hand wrapping round the end of my dagger.

  "Just so we're clear, I don't give a fuck about what is customary." I measure the distance between the starting line and the beginning of the trees. Ten feet, maybe more. That's plenty of space to kill a man.

  "I was hoping you'd say that." Marcello straightens.

  Juilliard runs a hand through his hair and glances at the two of us. "For once, maybe I'm happy she's said that too."

  "Teams, at the ready!" The announcer shouts. Many lowering into poses that suggests they'll leap into action at any moment.

  Finnegan pulls an arrow from his quiver and strings it, pointing the weapon at his toes. "Have we decided to play dirty today?"

  "Yes," I can't help the smile that lifts my cheeks. "We have."

  "Very good." He winks at his wife.

  "That is our very favorite way to play." Sloane swings her axe at her side. Her ponytail catches the wind of the movement and fans slightly behind her.

  The horn blares and I have to force myself to hesitate. Let everyone get a fraction of a step ahead of me. Marcello, weaponless, is a blur lost to the woods in a breath. Finnegan's arrow snaps a moment after the horn releases us. It buries into the neck of the werewolf, Dakota. He stumbles and his team runs right over him, not bothering to stop or care.

  Most of the Hybrids, the quick ones like the Vampires and Elves, are gone faster than I can keep my eyes on them. But the slower ones, Dwarfs and Orcs, their backs are squarely in my view. Particularly, a red headed Dwarf with a cruel tongue and a passion for trying to kick me out of elevators.

  I start into a sprint, my blade behind my head as I arch my arm and push all of my weight into the throw. Light glances of the dagger as it spins a few times in the air before hitting its target. Rafferty, the stupid little Dwarf, stiffens as the weapon pierces him in the small space between his spine and shoulder blades. He falls face forward into the dirt and I run right to him.

  Blood seeps into his clothes and clings to the blade as I push my boot to his back and pull the blade out. He groans, trying to roll to his side and free his own weapon that he himself has landed on. I look behind me but Sloane hovers, her watchful eyes scanning the forest her husband has gone from her side.

  Filling my hand with a tangle of his red hair, I lift him up so he can look at me. I laugh dryly and run the sharpened edge across his throat, spilling more blood and ending his miserable existence. "You deserve this." I say as I always do. Tonight I don't mean it as much as usual, which causes me to pause for a moment before I kick his body over and pull the short sword he brought out of his grasp. "Thanks for this."

  Two competitors are down before we've even reached the cover of the playing field. Two challengers who won't have an opportunity to get the flag before we do. And I'll keep killing them off until we're the last ones. I'll kill them all if I have to for these fucking Games to end so I can finally do what needs to be done. Change will be com
ing to The Oasis in one way or another.

  My feet hit the gravel and it skitters back behind me. Sloane is at my side in a single heartbeat, rushing into the fray. Under the cover of trees, I find myself looking up into the branches far more often than I'd like. I also expect to hear weapons clashing and Hybrids fighting off death.

  A shiver chases down my spine. I hold my dagger a bit tighter and my gaze moves faster. The playing field with all its trees and stairs built to rooms to spy from is utterly quiet. Every breath I take feels as though it's giving my position away.

  A single gunshot booms out. I nearly jump right out of my skin. Hedda? Had she made it to the highest vantage point already? Had she found the flag? I don't think the Orc is fast enough for that to occur. The idea of Hedda fist to fist with someone...that churns my stomach more than any of the blood and gore I've seen in my entire life.

  I slow only when I'm behind a tree trunk. Listening intently. Sloane stands a few feet away, looming behind her own large bark covered shield. She cocks her head lifting her axe up slowly from her side. Her lips move without sound. I don't need her voice to know exactly what she's saying. I've had years to practice reading lips.

  Orc on your left.

  Inhaling, I step out from behind the tree. I exhale as I swing my arm, stopped by a large metal-cuffed arm. He stops my second blade with the end of his flail. Costello glares down at me, but I'm already in motion. His towering form manages to cast a shadow with what little light filters through the canopy of leaves overhead. Costello might be strong, very strong judging by the muscle underneath the thick layer of his fat, but I'm faster. He knows it and I know it.

  I'm able to move, duck under his swiping arm, taking my own dagger with me and swiping my blade across his large belly. Red follows in a trail after the tip. Wind blows away the unruly hairs that won't stay back in my braid as Costello swings his flail over me, the large spiked ball swirling in the air. He misses by only a few inches and I know the next blow is likely not to do that again.

  I need to finish this quickly. Is there really any other way? Bowing under his arm, I'm able to get behind him. He spins, a smile on his face as if he thinks himself already victorious. A shame for him, considering he's about to be dead at my feet in the next minute and a half.

  I'm already lunging forward, my dagger pointed straight for the center of Costello's throat. The blade doesn't meet his neck, it only grazes his skin and the tuft of red hair sprouting from the center of his mostly bald head bounces as he laughs. An arm wraps around my waist. The cold edge of a sword presses against my neck.

  If this had been any other day, I'd be dead. Maybe I am dead and I just haven't figured that part out yet? My head hasn't caught up to the rest of my body? Is that a thing? Probably.

  "No thank you, Miss Nilsa." The familiar press of a body against mine, the dark sneer in his voice, the black hair tells me exactly who it is. Exactly which hate spewing Elf holds me so tightly against his strong chest.

  "Jefferson. I would think you'd spend your time a little better than seeking me out again. I'm not sure this is the time or place for a romp in the woods. Don't you have more important tasks at hand?"

  He hums a laugh that shakes through my body too. "Alas, it is not you that I'm worried about. It's my fucking brother who's about to ruin everything for me. I'm so glad that the you and Marcello have formed some sort of attachment. It works out quite well in my favor, actually. It's clear the poor guy has a soft spot for you, and I'm quite certain he isn't willing to lose yet another girlfriend."

  I still hold my dagger in my hand and as Costello laughs along; I imagine stabbing it right into Jefferson's leg. As soon as I'd do that, his blade would be across my neck. I sigh a shallow breath. Where the fuck did Sloane go?

  "I'd hate to make you feel as though this plan of yours is futile, but neither Marcello or I have claimed to be an item. In fact, I'm hardly fond of him at all."

  Had she left me? Like a sacrifice? Or is she just biding her time?

  Jefferson presses his cheek against mine and I can feel the slow spread of his smile. "You don't need to be fond of him for him to be utterly infatuated with you. He's always been a stupid hopeless romantic. Even that wisp of a Human, Lily was just as combative as you. Though I must say, he's upgraded seeing that you are much more skilled at protecting yourself then she was. Still, I'm certain you'll scream the same way in death as she had."

  I'm not expecting that, the slightest slip of information I'd yet to be told. "Lily was Human?"

  "Yes, a servant girl." the Elf kicks my feet forward, forcing me to walk within the circle of his arms. "He has a stupid fascination with your race. Not too unlike your gun welder? Or maybe he just likes them poor so they can worship at his riches. "

  "Marcello is hardly like Hedda at all." And that could solely be because he already knows everything about Humans that he needs to.

  "You would know," Jefferson sighs. "I'm not bringing you along for conversation, so you can just keep your mouth closed until I need you to scream for your man’s attention."

  Saints. I hate that. The mere fact that I'm being reduced to catch the attention of some male. Well, not just any male, it's Marcello for crying out loud. It's been so long since anyone could use me as leverage against anyone else.

  Costello lumbers through the forest ahead of us, his head rotating back and forth as his gaze sweeps the terrain. Another boom cracks through the air. Both Hybrids turn toward the noise.

  "Don't worry. I've already sent a friend to go deal with that particular problem. As I'm sure the other teams have thought to do."

  A new feeling makes me go taut. It brings with it a bitter taste on my tongue. It's fear, but the different sort, a new version of it that I extend toward my... my friend. Hedda will be fine. She's the one with the gun, of course! A third shot rings out. I hope they've all hit. I hope every pull of that trigger has been deadly. Three shots means she has seven left.

  "Are you," I clear my throat suddenly raw, "not aware that you and Costello are on different teams?"

  "Oh, we are very much on the same team." He laughs again, the sound cut short as an axe embeds itself in Costello's skull.

  Hot blood splatters against my skin. Jefferson's body goes lax for the smallest second as surprise overtakes him. I don't wait for another opportunity. I could be dead before another comes. The last of my air is exhaled as I slip my arm between us and force his sword away from me. Simultaneously, I'm kicking behind me with one boot. To his knees... to his groin... to whatever the fuck I can hit to help push him off of me.

  I'm spinning, already prepared for him to charge after me, but a streak of blonde hair and red eyes leaps on his back. Buzzing fills the air as cameras hover low through the trees, taking in the scene that is happening far too fast for me to stop. Sloane sinks her teeth into Jefferson's neck, a hand wrapped around his wrist holding his sword at bay and he hisses.

  Sloane pulls away, blood staining her lips. "Run, Nilsa," she snaps.

  I don't run from things when I can finish them. Something in the wild snarl that escaped Jefferson and the fury to which Sloane clings to him with extended fangs tells me that I will not win here. I'll be in the way. So to keep my life intact, I turn, leaping over the fallen Orc and sprint.

  Not far ahead, two more bodies litter the ground. A fight that we missed? Seconds. It had only taken Seconds for the bloodshed to begin. The arena floor might be large, but it's not too large for us to find our opponents. Two bodies, Lux and Amory. Neither of which I care to mourn. I keep running past them. Forcing every breath to be as quiet as I can manage and every step to be as light as a feather. Where am I even going? I don't have a clue where. To the flag? To Hedda? Marcello?

  I catch the sound of heavy footsteps and I slow. Bark presses into my palms as I pull my weight up into the nearest tree. I scamper up another limb then two, curling behind a spread of leaves. Air purges my chest, burning with fear and excitement.

  India, the Elf with long
black braids swaying down her back walks slowly around the two fallen bodies. She examines them for a moment before she steps over them. Kill, Kill, Kill. My mind repeats. Kill them all so none can get to the flag. So none can claim your victory.

  She doesn't look up into the trees as I had. Either too cocky to bother or she already knows I'm here. Like Sloane, India carries an axe, though hers looks much more slender and less cumbersome than the Vampire’s. I ready myself to leap from the tree limb. I'll aim for the space behind her and run my dagger through before she even knows what's going on.

  Lifting myself ever so slightly, I brace myself for the drop. India's yelp forces me to stop and freeze to find what I'd missed before. A long sword purges through her chest, Jefferson on the other side of it, twisting sharply.

  "You should have taken the deal, India," he growls, before ripping the blade clean from her and becoming yet another blur in my vision.

  "Sloane.” I give it one heartbeat then two before I drop. My feet slam against the ground and my knees threaten to buckle underneath me. I ignore the way my bones groan at the impact, already running back the way I'd come.

  The lowest of the tree branches whip against my skin as I throw myself forward off of every obstacle in my way. The toes of my boots catch on the fallen body of Costello and I stumble over him to a stop. My pulse races as I look at the blood that stains the ground. The axe that had been in the Orc’s head is gone. Instead, new blood drips from the blade.

  Sloane gasps, red drips from her lips and I'm sure it's a mixture of Jefferson's and her own. Her feet dangle underneath her. Her hands holding the weapon now pinning her against the large trunk of a tree. Slowly, her crimson eyes draw up from the axe in her stomach to my face. Blood sputters from her lips and she smiles.

  "For the Resistance," she whispers.

  "No. No. No! No one asked you to do this. Sloane, no!" The mask I usually keep in place to hide the far too fragile girl underneath slips. She's dying. She'll be dead for me. Sloane, a Vampire, will have died saving a Human. Unspeakable.