by Rebecca Grey
Calik – Male, Vampire - DECEASED
Dakota – Male, Werewolf - DECEASED
Jefferson – Male, Elf
#4 TEAM WINDSOR:
Nilsa – Female, Human
Juilliard – Male, Elf
Marcello – Male, Elf
Finnegan - Male, Vampire
Sloane – Female, Vampire - DECEASED
Hedda - Female, Orc
#5 TEAM CUTTINGTON:
Bekke – Female, Elf - DECEASED
Isla – Female, Vampire - DECEASED
Orchid – Female, Vampire
Winona – Female, Dryad - DECEASED
Noor – Female, Werewolf - DECEASED
Washington – Male, Faun - DECEASED
"My sons, please come join me," King Caspar says, his voice reaches even the highest row in the room and it most certainly reaches me. The arena, filled with heavy anticipation, waits for the two princes to make their move, for them to finally reveal themselves to the world.
Jefferson moves first. My eyes immediately grow wide and I anticipate Marcello to move next. It's not him though, it's the Elf at my side that holds his head up proudly and follows Jefferson forward toward the announcer's platform that gleams in the light as it lowers to the gravel. Juilliard with his bloodied forehead brushes by me.
Air no longer exists. I'm drowning. I can't breathe. I can't think.
And when I think I'm about to fall faint and hopefully never wake up again, a warm body stands behind me. Hands wrap around my arms holding me up. A spark bounces off my sleeve and my nose is filled with the scent of licorice.
I want to shout. I want to demand answers.
Aligning with the prince, being on his team, it’s what I wanted after all, wasn't it? I’d gone about the Games trying to figure out and find the man, well I succeeded at that. I’d fucked one prince while simultaneously becoming practically friends with the other. So why does the confirmation of this information leave such a bitter taste in my mouth, why does it feel like I've been lied to? Betrayed? Why does it sting?
The crowd is finally cheering with the ferocity that is to be expected at the end of a long, grueling tournament. Everyone is cheering for the princes.
King Caspar finally smiles, and for once it feels genuine. "Let me introduce you to Jefferson Randrend and Juilliard Randrend. Princes of Pacifica. They shall pick a partner from the remaining challengers to assist them during the next round of challenges."
King Caspar hands the microphone to Juilliard who stands closest to him. Juilliard doesn't think before he speaks or it could be that he made his mind up a long time ago. "Marcello Torres."
Marcello nods behind me. Jefferson takes the microphone. A long slow smile tilts his lips and I know as his eyes meet mine that everything is about to go wrong. I can taste it in the air, feel it in the churning of my gut, and see it in his cruel features.
"Nilsa Windsor."
A look of surprise overtakes the king. Marcello's hands on my arms promptly fall away from my sides. A ringing sounds inside my ears, so loud it covers the surprise of the congregation.
“How delightful.” King Caspar dips his head, not sounded delighted in the least. “The guards will see you all to your rooms for healing while we prepare for the next events.”
All it takes is one short movement of his hand and guards sweep forward through the farthest doors. My feet move, but I’ve lost all sensation in my limbs. I find myself facing Marcello, staring into his gaze where at one point I thought I saw the future. All of this, seeing first hand who the prince, or rather princes, really are reminds me that so much of this game was a lie. How much of it was lies fed to me by Marcello himself?
I whisper. “You do not know what you’ve done by putting me on this team. You don’t know what he’s just done.”
“I know very well about the plans you have.” Marcello keeps his voice low. “I also know I can’t allow you to follow through with them.”
He takes half a step toward me. Light casts across his face and even when a fresh wave of hate swells inside of my chest, my breath is still lost to his striking beauty. The sharp cut of his jawline, the sweeping curls of his brown hair, his full parted lips, and his eyes… those star kissed eyes that look as though they were made from pure liquid silver, all of it, all of him was designed for me. Every feature, every curve of muscle, as if someone had plucked my ideal man out of my head and molded him before me. If only our relationship wasn’t built on carefully balanced lies and carefully crafted words. With several pairs of stomping boots there’s reason for me to look away. More reason for me to try and forget that there was ever a connection between the two of us.
A broken sob from a very broken man, greets me as I turn away. Finnegan cradles Sloane against him. The axe has been pulled from her body, blood soaking the pair as he walks toward me. Streaks of tears and dirt cover his face. Splotches of red stain his lips, as if he tried to kiss her back to life. Even a man of his strength and age is resolved to this… this shrinking form in the face of death. His pain echoes through me in an all too familiar twinge of loss.
Hedda’s lips part in a silent ‘O.’ Part of me wants to turn back and look at Juilliard’s reaction. Prince Juilliard, that is. But I can’t look away. I can’t tear my eyes away from the woman who’d died to save me from the monster I’m somehow tied to now. For the Resistance, she’d said. I’ll kill Jefferson myself for the Resistance.
Finnegan’s glare turns menacing when he looks at the king. Then his attention flicks to the guards still entering the floor to take us all away. They’ll take Sloane away from him. Shove him up in some glorified prison cell for a while. He’ll mourn alone.
“Wait,” Finnegan rasps, “Wait!”
I don’t move. I wasn’t moving to begin with, not when I saw him walking up to Marcello and I. Especially not when I saw Sloane’s slim figure curled against him.
Finnegan falls to his knees before Marcello and I. He clutches Sloane tighter, his knuckles white. Even that small motion makes Sloane’s body start to crack and crumble. His eyes press closed and fresh tears roll down his face. “Please, I beg of you. Kill me. Kill me now.”
“Finnegan, I’m so sorry for your loss. One day you’ll move on.”
Says the man who was more heartbroken over his father’s betrayal than the loss of the love of his life. Saints, I’m so stupid. I’m so very stupid.
Marcello doesn’t see what I see. Marcello doesn’t see the pain that truly never ends. Finnegan wants to die, as did I, as I still do most days. I’d lost parental figures young, I can only imagine the loss of losing someone you’ve lived your whole life loving. And a love like theirs, full of mutual respect and gentle signs of affection could tear apart kingdoms.
“I don’t want to live in a world where she is not.” He turns his gaze to me. “You’ve made it through the games. My job is done. Don’t make me face The Oasis without her. Don’t make me do it all alone.” His voice breaks and I feel it in my bones.
I lift my dagger, still watching the Vampire. Finnegan lowers Sloane’s body and ash smears against his clothes.
“Nilsa,” Marcello warns.
Air whips past me as I lunge forward. I shove my blade in at an angle directly to his heart until the hilt is flat against his chest. The burn of tears is fresh in my gaze as it locks on Finnegan’s. Much the same, his red eyes darken. The crowd unanimously draws in a sharp breath, immediately followed by the muttering of gossip.
A long exhale wheezes out, his lips twitching up into a smile under his mustache. “Thank you.” Color immediately drains from his skin and I step away.
Shoving the blade back into my belt, I press my eyes closed. This day needs to be over. I don’t want to see or feel or think anymore. The hot press of hands grips my arms, shaking me until I feel my brain rattling inside of my head.
“What is wrong with you!? Why would you do that, Nilsa?” Marcello stops shaking me as the guard grows close, suddenly remembering who he is as he strai
ghtens himself and locks his hands behind his back.
“He was a good man and he deserved to die on his terms.”
“He would have grieved, moved on, and found a way to live again.”
Guards press in around us, ushering us forward, herding us like cattle to the set of doors they’d just entered through. The spectators are already on their feet, filtering out of the arena. The surviving Hybrids, all except Hedda and I, wave to the crowd as we exit, proud that even if they didn’t win they managed to make it out alive. I don’t see the last moment of Finnegan’s life before he becomes nothing.
“Did you not expect me to act in the nature of what I am? Oh, Marcello,” I hiss through my teeth, “how have we forgotten what we truly are during the ruse of the game? You recruited me because I am a demon clothed in Human skin. I kill. I’m happy to kill. I am a monster.” And I’ll kill your best friend with joy too, I think but don’t say out loud. I shrug, mostly to try and ease the weight of guilt that starts to settle. “And he asked for it. Not just asked, he begged.”
We move forward with the current of the crowd. Marcello lifts his hand, waving to the room. He smiles and the two dimples appear on his cheeks, but the grin doesn’t reach his eyes. He doesn’t look at me now as he talks out of the corner of his mouth.
“This is not over. We are not done with this conversation.”
“I have no need to continue with it. So yes, we are done. The next time I see you, the next time we are alone,” The fluorescent lights disappear and so do the floating cameras, all replaced by a long marble hall. “you have truths to tell me. This,” I gesture around us, “changes everything.”
Marcello snaps his gaze to mine. His feet nearly fumble under him, but he rights himself quickly. “Nilsa, this changes nothing.” The shine of his eyes reminds me of the way that Finnegan’s had begged for an end. Marcello isn’t begging for an end, he’s begging for something else. Me? Trust? Friendship? Lust?
“I’m so glad to have been reminded how much I hate Hybrids. How much I’m treated as just another pawn in their games. And I’m not done yet, so it seems. I’m to be partnered with your brother. Explain that one to me. Explain to me how you are related, yet Juilliard is the one to stand up for the crown. Juilliard and his lies do not deserve the crown.”
“You don’t believe that.” His voice is raw.
Hedda walks in silence behind us, trailed by the others, each more tired and exhausted than the next. I expect her to jump and try to talk me from the ledge of hatred or to just hover by my side. Instead, her attention is fixed at our feet, her lips pressed into a straight line.
Today, I remember the thrill of excitement and determination. I’ll bring down their king, their princes, and I’ll fulfill my contract for Joss. Then I won’t have to worry any longer. Then I won’t have to stress.
It’s Marcello’s mistake for getting me here. Will he wish to live once I kill his best friend? Or will he beg for death too? The better question, will he feel guilt when he realizes that he has delivered an assassin right to the castle doors?
Also by Rebecca Grey
Ruined by Fae Saga
Ruined
Madness
Heartsick
The Cursed Kingdom Series
The Cruel Fae King
The Cursed Fae King
The Crowned Fae Queen
The Twisted Crown Series
The Shadow Fae
The Iron Fae
The Lost Fae
The Prince’s Games Duology
Vengeance
Vanquish
Coming soon from Rebecca Grey:
Chasing Boston, A Fantasy Romance Standalone
About Rebecca Grey
Rebecca Grey leads a busy life. Somewhere between raising two kids and daydreaming about being a reality television star, she writes. As a reader she enjoys books filled with arrogant boys, who she would never waste her time on in real life, and large fantasy or paranormal novels. Much of her love for these things are reflected in her books.
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