by Meg Xuemei X
When Xavier trained me in martial arts, he’d told me about the most-kept secret of the Sváva.
The legend said that only a Sváva could kill a Sváva, but it wasn’t true. The angels and demons wanted us to believe no other race could slay them, so we would worship them as gods.
The truth was that they could bleed and die if they were cut by an angelblade forged in their homeland in the far galaxy.
Tears stung my eyes at the realization that my adoptive father had sacrificed everything for me. During the day, he’d dug inside the tunnel in search of rumored artifacts for the demon emperor. At night, despite being exhausted, he would bring me to a hidden place in a cave to teach me and train me. Xavier ate little, saving his food for me. As a growing child, I had taken everything and still constantly felt hungry.
Now, guilt, grief, and regret gnawed my insides like churning acid.
He’d kept it up for ten years until one day he’d been blown to pieces in an explosion deep in the tunnel. I couldn’t get out of bed and had refused to eat after hearing the news, but then Seamus had come and dragged me all the way to the underground by my braids. I’d been working as a digger since then.
And my fingernails and face had never been clean.
I’d stopped training after Xavier’s demise. Though Sebastian had managed to give me the lightest tasks in the ancient ruins of the tunnel, it was still extremely hard work. The slavers never gave us a break. When I got home, I could barely stand, let alone trek to the secret cave in the middle of the night to continue the training.
Mostly, I’d stopped because I couldn’t bear the memory of losing Xavier, and I’d felt no hope for the future. My world was all dirt, rocks, swamp, hunger, and the distant mountains spewing lava under the bleak sky. If not for Sebastian, I wouldn’t have made it this long. I just hadn’t had it in me to abandon him.
But I had to leave him behind today.
So, I’d defeated all the untrained slaves easily due to the memory of my muscles. It also helped that I was a natural at combat. According to Xavier, I’d been the best he’d ever trained.
I tossed the spear away, since I couldn’t use it to kill any Sváva. I was more comfortable with a sword or a dagger.
I raised the sword in front of my chest, my eyes burning with the hellfire of defiance, as I braced for more shit to come my way.
But I hadn’t expected a team of a dozen red-winged demons to block the sky overhead with their massive, jagged wings. Then they dropped into the arena and surrounded me, their angelblades drawn, the black runes on their blades flashing with deadly light.
CHAPTER 5
Ash
Fuck, it’s that boy in the arena, I shouted in Max’s head. No, I mean the girl. The girl we saw earlier. I couldn’t reach Elijah, since he was out of range of our telepathy. He sat with the Emperor of the Underworld in the high seat over the stadium, drinking demon brews and watching the bloody sport in cold distaste.
I would recognize her anywhere, even though a gray hood concealed half of her face. Unquenchable fire, fire that usually didn’t shine from a slave, burned in her dark green eyes above three rows of black stripes on her dirty cheeks.
Will you quit shouting about something so obvious? Max snapped, not bothering to glare at me, but fixing his amber eyes on the girl in the arena. She gripped her rusty blade in a composed stance, as if she knew what to do with it.
The hybrid vampire hadn’t been in the best mood ever since our possible mate had slipped out from under our noses.
And yet now, here she was.
How had she ended up in the gladiatorial arena? Had she been caught coming to the Reaper landing site? Elijah had questioned the low-ranking guards and learned that it was forbidden for any slave to go there.
This is bad, Max, I said again, despite Max’s annoyed expression. If she’s our mate, we didn’t come this far just to watch her get stabbed. I’m going into the arena to defend her.
I didn’t care if Max would criticize me for being reckless and lacking war strategy. I wouldn’t watch her fight for her life, totally defenseless. Acid burned in my chest as I saw her alone in the vast, blood-tainted arena, lost and angry and afraid. She didn’t belong there.
Should she be our mate, she belonged in our bed.
Hold your horses, Ash, Max yelled in my head, returning the courtesy. I’ll join the elite demon guards. You stay as a slave gladiator and watch her from the ground.
Max transformed in an instant, a pair of massive, glossy black wings shooting out of his broad shoulders.
Maximus was a real bastard. He was half archangel and half primordial vampire. He was actually Elijah’s older brother, coming from one of the most ancient, privileged archangel bloodlines. Max hated his Sváva heritage, and very few people knew that he and Elijah were half-brothers.
Max was so powerful that his wings could remain invisible until he summoned them. He didn’t like to summon them unless he had no choice, like now.
The demon guards didn’t even blink at Max’s shift as we all stood by the open gate looking into the arena. As soon as we’d been transported to this open dome structure, Max had used his power of compulsion to tell the guards to leave us be.
Another gate opened. A male slave stumbled into the arena, spotted the girl, and charged her with his dagger raised high.
Rage burst in me. A protective instinct roared in my blood. I didn’t give a fuck what would happen next, but I wouldn’t let anyone harm her. As a fae, I was great with bows. I notched my arrow, aiming at the slave. Before I let my arrow fly, the girl stepped aside in a flash and leaped at her opponent, the hilt of her rusty dagger slamming into the back of his skull.
She can handle herself, I whispered in delighted surprise. She was actually very good. Her strike was clean, sharp.
Why is it even a surprise to you, winter fae? We saw how fast she ran. In a darker voice, he added, I wonder if this was her first kill.
What do you expect, vampire? She was raised in hell, I said, feeling the need to defend the girl on every level, though I hadn’t officially met her, and I knew nothing about her. She’s supposed to kill her opponent. That’s the rule in any gladiatorial arena. It’s either kill or be killed. I know you don’t like our mate to have blood on her hands. You want her all pretty, elegant, and safe in our warded, fortified Realm of Twilight. You’re the old-fashioned kind, even though you’re a predator. We’re here for war, and she’ll be in the center of it. You’ll have to learn to protect her in a different, effective way.
Shut up. When will you learn to talk less? Max shook his head in disgust. It was always fun to irritate the vampire. Elijah, however, didn’t take bait so easily.
The crowd rose from their seats, pumping their fists and shouting, “Kill! Kill! Kill!”
The girl raised her dagger, and I held my breath.
She threw it to the ground in dignified disdain and spat at her feet.
Max smiled. We got a spitfire as a mate.
We need to get her the fuck out of there, I said. While Elijah keeps the fucker Cain occupied, it’s our job to keep her alive.
CHAPTER 6
_____________
This was it. The red-winged demon sentinels were finally coming to end me themselves.
Twelve of them would cut me to pieces.
I didn’t abandon my sword. Nor did I bow to the elite Sváva, as a slave was supposed to do. I hadn’t even bowed or kneeled before the emperor.
Bas. I said a silent farewell. I’m sorry. I can’t return to you. May we meet again in the afterlife. But know this, brother. I didn’t go down without a fight.
I scanned the sentinels, seeking the weakest link. My cold, careful gaze fell upon their silvery swords with black runes on the edge—angelblades.
My heart drummed. If I could take a weapon from one of them, I might just kill one demon, and that would count for something, since no slave had ever done that. I could then shatter their myth, so all the oppressed would know that a
Sváva could be killed.
I might even inspire the other slaves and become the spark of fire—
Oh, keep dreaming. I shook my head at myself. It was a hard pill to swallow that my death would be nothing but a meaningless waste.
The sentinels didn’t advance toward me, but their eyes, merciless and predatory, never left me. I took the time to calculate how they would move and how I should countermove. I could let two of them crash into each other as I slipped from between them when they came at me from both sides, and then I could lash out and grab an angelblade...
Wings shuffled outside the circle formed by the red-winged demons around me, and footsteps approached. Three gray-winged guards, the ones who had shoved me into the arena, stopped before the unconscious slaves.
They raised their swords. When the blades fell, they plunged into the chests of my former opponents. Trails of smoke seeped from the humans at the effect of the angelblades.
Blood raced in my veins and rage roared in my ears.
“Fuckers! Cowards!” I charged toward the red-winged sentinels, determined to break through their ring and fight them all to the death.
A new Sváva suddenly appeared in front of me in a dark flash before I made another step. He was faster.
I stabbed my sword at him in fury. It bounced off his chest as if coming into contact with the hardest steel. Before I saw his next move, he ripped my sword from my hand and dropped it to the ground with a sharp clang. He wrapped his large, powerful hand around my throat.
Humiliation and rage surged in me, but I couldn’t even spit at him because of his iron grip.
Don’t make a move, if you want to get out of here alive, he said in my head. The emperor is toying with you. He wants to break you before destroying you for your defiance.
I ceased to struggle. How could a Sváva talk in my head? Who was he? I hadn’t known that a fallen angel could communicate telepathically.
You can’t help them, he said. Unlike any other Sváva, this one seemed to have compassion. The moment they were sent to the arena, they were dead.
As was I.
A feeling of cold clarity broke through my rage.
I flicked my gaze to a stunningly beautiful face that belonged to one of that cruel race. A loose strand of his chestnut hair fell into his eyes, the amber fire inside sparking as they met my probing gaze.
Holy shit!
He was one of the two slave gladiators I’d spotted earlier from the Reaper airship. The slave brand on his temple was gone, but I’d recognize him anywhere.
How can it be? I almost shouted, but his hand was still tight on my throat.
My eyes roved the parts of his torso that weren’t covered by his leather armor. A swirl of inked waves and runes were still etched on his left shoulder, confirming that I remembered everything about him correctly.
I’d wished I could see him and his companion slave again. I’d fantasized licking the inked tattoos on his magnificent body. And now I could see those tattoos up close and personal as he clutched my slender neck in his powerful hand, able to break it any time he wanted.
My gaze kept roaming his defined ridges and beautiful hard muscles. A twirl of fire formed in my belly, surging up. At the same time, the black-winged Sváva’s amber eyes brightened to molten gold.
A blink, and his eyes returned to normal.
I snapped back. I couldn’t believe I lusted after him while I stood at death’s door. But then, perhaps that was what passed through people’s minds—a flash of images or memories that conveyed their strongest desires or regrets.
You! I said accusingly.
Somehow, I managed to send the word to his mind and found no mental block against it. I could reach him telepathically as well.
He kept his expression blank and cold, probably because we were being watched, but I could feel his turmoil of emotions. They ran beneath his hard shell, and I wanted to trace them and dig out what made him tick.
I felt a fleeting déjà vu, a strange connection to him that was stronger than anything in the universe. As if that wasn’t shocking enough for me, a pair of velvety black wings slid from behind his shoulders. They were so deeply obsidian they drank all the light in the dim arena.
Only two Sváva had black wings, and one of them was the emperor. This Sváva’s wings were shinier and more magnificent.
What the actual fuck? I couldn’t help my shock, so I shouted in his mind. You didn’t have wings before! How did you even grow them? Is this some kind of glamour or a joke? I don’t find it funny! I thought you were a slave, like me. You came as a slave, and I never forget a face. Admit it, you aren’t exactly like them.
Don’t blow my cover, doll. He almost winced, not at my words but at the volume of my voice in his head.
I’m not a doll, I still shouted in his head.
Amusement flickered in his eyes.
It’s a long story, spitfire, he said. I’m Max, but we can’t talk here.
I didn’t think he could bring me to talk anywhere else. Even if he was a powerful magician, the Underworld was the demons’ territory.
There was nowhere else to go.
“Stop fighting, slave,” he barked at me sternly for the other guards’ benefit. “Try it again, and I’ll snap your little neck like a twig.”
I won’t walk out of here alive, Max, I projected my thoughts into his head. But could you help my brother? Please? Sebastian needs medicine to break his fever or he might not survive tonight. He’s a digger in Lethe. Send him a message for me, telling him that I’m sorry. I can’t repay you if you do this for me, but I’ll owe you a debt in the afterlife. Now go ahead and end me. I’d rather die by your hands.
I wanted to let him have the credit of taking me down, and I had a feeling that he would save my brother.
He snarled. You’ll live. My brothers and I will make sure of it.
Brothers? Was the handsome slave gladiator with the ice-blue eyes his brother? I darted my eyes quickly to scan the guards, but he wasn’t among them, at least not in my field of sight. And Max had said brothers, plural. Were there more of them?
Is your brother a dragonian? Max asked, peeking into my eyes intensely, intending to decide if my next words were lies or not.
My eyes widened for a blink, and he looked relieved and satisfied, as if he’d just confirmed something important. Fear pumped in my veins. If he went to hurt Sebastian—
I’ll never hurt those you love, doll, he said. If you want to return to him, you’ll do exactly what I tell you to do.
It’d be useless to demand he stop calling me doll. And there were so many questions I needed to ask him, such as where he came from. Why did he come to this hellhole if he wasn’t a slave? But this wasn’t the place to ask any more questions. This black-winged, mysterious stranger had promised to protect me, and more importantly, he might help Sebastian.
I still wasn’t sure that he could get me out of here, but no matter what, I wouldn’t bring any suspicion his way. I wouldn’t drag him down when I fell. Kindness in the Underworld was a luxury. Every spark of it must be treasured.
Despite my doubts, my instincts screamed for me to trust him. And a foolish hope started to take root in me. If he came from the Upper Realm, then there was a possibility that Sebastian and I could escape to it.
Only if I could get out of here.
Hope was a terrible thing, but it might be the only thing keeping me alive.
We’d stared at each other longer than normal. All eyes were on us. So, I spat in his handsome face regretfully as his hand loosened a little on my neck. I had to show that he wasn’t in league with me. I made sure that my saliva landed on the side of his cheek and not on his kissable lips.
Sorry, Max, I apologized afterward in his head.
He glared at me. You didn’t need to do that, doll. No one has ever dared spit on me.
If he still called me doll, he couldn’t be too mad.
For a split second, his gaze fell on my lips.
My heart hammered. He knew I was a woman. I was sure now. The way he looked at me wasn’t the way a man looked at a man.
What’s your name, doll? he asked, cutting off my thoughts.
Calamity.
I volunteered it eagerly. It was better than being called a doll or something worse.
I’m going to toss you to the ground, Calamity, he said.
The name sounded exotic and gentle on his tongue instead of roguish. No one had said my name like a lover.
While I was still savoring it, Max flung me to the ground with a calculated move, his angelblade pressing against my chest instead of my neck, careful not to pierce my skin.
Fuck, that hurt, I groaned.
“I’ve never seen that black-winged guard before.” My super hearing caught the emperor’s sour and alarmed words within the hushed arena.
I noticed that Max also subtly pricked his ears to listen.
“He came with me as my aide,” said Elijah casually and haughtily. “He’s a royal archangel, like you, Emperor. As you can see, he’s got the distinguished black wings.”
“But the report said that you brought only two gladiator slaves,” the emperor said unhappily.
“Reports are overrated,” Elijah said dismissively. “I sent Max to run some errands, and he got caught up with teaching some slave boy his manners.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “And he also got mixed up with your royal guards.”
“Hmm,” said Emperor Cain. “I wouldn’t mind adding him to the rank of my guards.”
“Pardon me, Emperor,” a demon commander inquired. “Should we proceed with the next program?”
“What program?” Elijah asked, his voice cold, musical, and commanding.
The emperor chuckled evilly. “You’ll see, Lord Elijah. That slave surprised me, but he’ll get what he deserves.”
Max’s eyes flicked to me; beneath his steely look, he was concealing a lot of anxiety for me. I could sense his dark mood and noble intention. He was the only person who’d ever cared about me save my late father and brother. I didn’t know why he cared, but it warmed me.