Ella
This is fucked up, and I am pissed off.
I readjust my position in the ridiculously comfortable, high-backed throne I’ve been seated in and curl my fingers around my knee. Hot sunshine beats down into a pit of shallow sand that’s currently being raked while the people arriving to witness my mate’s battle find seats in the stands.
Above me, a pergola protects those sitting in the “royal box” from the sun, and before me is a beautifully decorated table full of food. Fine, sparkling wine glistens in the sunlight. Platters of exotic fruit, pastries, and cold meats sit untouched.
I’m not hungry. I couldn’t eat even if I wanted to. Not when my blood is boiling, and it has nothing to do with the unforgiving dry heat.
I glance around and spot Granger on the far side of the box looking grim as he watches the men raking the pit. White sand that reminds me of Maatua has been spread over the coarse, golden sand surrounding Oasia. I figure it’s so everyone in attendance for today’s event will have a better idea of how much blood is about to be spilled.
I can’t mind-link with Granger even at this distance. At first, I thought my inability to connect with Ryatt was because of the broken mate bond, but it’s gone beyond that at this point. I'm still losing my powers, despite the moonstones and special salve. I’m on borrowed time, and baking in the sun while my mate is forced to fight is the biggest waste of time we don’t really have.
Granger glances in my direction and quickly nods before looking back down at the pit. He taps his fingers on his arm nervously, which is bare. He cut the sleeves off his shirt this morning, complaining about the heat.
I look down at the plain, light blue cotton dress I’m wearing, then at the ugly leather clogs I’ve been carrying from pack to pack. Like Granger, I’d refused the clothing offered to us by the maids who visited our suite this morning.
These people are our enemies.
This moment will determine the fate of Eastonia, and ultimately, my life.
No powers, no shifting. Those are the rules. I assume it’s because Ryatt is even more powerful in his wolf form, which is saying a lot, given that he’s the most powerful man I’ve ever met. He’ll fight with fists; my stomach does a little flip at the thought.
I remember his fight with Isaac and involuntarily squeeze the fabric of my dress between my fingers. They’d been a physical match, and watching them wrestle had been brutally violent and unnerving. If whoever is fighting Ryatt today is stronger than my brother….
The stands are nearly full. People have already started shouting. Granger straightens, and I know, without being able to see the entirety of the pit below us, that someone is being led out.
I know it’s not my mate because the crowd shrieks with delight as the largest man I’ve ever seen in my entire life walks into view with his arms raised to the sky.
I thought Ryatt and the men in my family were big.
But this man which Alpha Jaxon has chosen to represent him in the pit is built like a stone wall. He probably eats a whole cow every day to maintain his mass. Every inch of him is solid muscle, and not the lean kind. Beneath a protective layer of thick skin, every inch of this man is like iron.
I find it hard to swallow as he comes to a stop in the center of the pit. The cheers from the crowd turns to sneers and hisses, and my mate arrives.
He’s beautiful. His tan skin glimmers in the sun, his dark hair undone and billowing out around his shoulders in the dry breeze. His eyes blaze a bright silver as he casually walks to the center of the pit. His chest is bare, his tattoos a dark contrast to his skin as his finely tuned muscles flex with each step.
I know he has a chance. In fact, I’m not worried that he’s going to die or be mortally wounded.
I just don’t want to have to watch him get hurt.
I clutch my knees again and exhale through my nose.
“You should have oiled him up this morning,” comes a voice to my left. “It’s a shame, really.”
I turn to the owner of the voice just as Alpha Jaxon sits down at the throne beside mine. I know he told his servants to seat me here, on a throne next to him, just to taunt my mate. It’s working. I look back down at Ryatt and meet his eyes. He looks murderous as he glares at Alpha Jaxon.
Rage bubbles through me as the young Alpha stretches his legs out and leans toward me, his wide mouth quirked in a sly grin.
“Do you have a little crush on my mate?” I tease, but my eyes are full of hatred.
“Luckily for you, I only have eyes for the female sex. Throwing a handsome man in the pit is always a good show, however. My people will enjoy watching all of those good looks get peeled away.”
I swallow hard as a group of warriors walk out into the pit, sounding commands I can’t really hear.
“This is asinine,” I say to Jaxon.
“This is Eastonia,” he replies, smirking. He stands and waves, then sits back down. Somewhere nearby a horn sends a sharp thrum of noise through the air, and it begins.
“My mate is an exceptional warrior.”
“I know,” Jaxon says, bored. “He’ll be fine.”
I narrow my eyes at him, ignoring the first sounds of flesh on flesh from the pit below. My stomach turns in on itself. I can’t watch. Not yet. “But you want him to die, don’t you? That’s the whole point of this. He dies, and you get Eastonia. So why would you tell me that he’ll be fine?”
His blue eyes meet mine. “I don’t dislike Ryatt. That fucking brute, however?” He points toward the giant of a man circling my mate. “He’s a traitor and a thief. I could have killed him outright, but I decided to give my people a little show. You just happened to show up at an opportune time.”
Something about this is off. Something about Jaxon doesn’t make any sense. “Do you really want to be King of Eastonia? Or is this just a dick measuring contest to you?”
He holds my gaze. Goddess, he is truly beautiful, but his eyes are sad. How strange.
“I have nothing else to do.”
“That’s a stupid answer.”
“What would you like me to say?”
“The truth. Why are you doing this to Ryatt?”
“I’m sure he filled you in on our conversation yesterday.” Jaxon reaches for a flute of sparkling wine and gulps it down before tossing the flute directly into the pit. “I used to train Ryatt when he was a kid. Training is a loose term. I was in training myself, and he was a little brat that always had a shit-eating grin on his face. I knew he’d grow up to be trouble, and I was right. But I didn’t anticipate him joining Kane’s forces.”
“He was never on Kane’s side–”
“That doesn’t make a difference. I lost all that mattered to me, and Ryatt did nothing to stop it from happening. Now, Ryatt wants Eastonia to give to you as a little present. I imagine he’s whispered his plans to you at night while you snuggle together in a fancy bed in Veiled Valley, right? You on the throne like a puppet while he pulls the strings and continues being Lord of Shadows. Hmm….” He chuckles darkly.
“What are you even talking about? What do you want?”
“I want revenge,” he says sharply, turning to face me. “I don’t give a fuck if you’re on the throne. You can raise the lost Firestone cities and bring down the veil, restoring peace to our war torn lands, and I will still paint your kingdom red like Kane painted the walls of his dungeons with my family’s blood.” His tone is so cold it sends a ripple of ice licking up my spine. “My daughter was three years old. My mate–gods–”
“Ryatt wouldn’t have hurt them–”
“He did nothing to stop it. He sat back and watched while the people on this side of the river were enslaved and forced to fight. My people!”
I look down at Ryatt. He’s bloody, a little bruised, but still on his feet.
“You blame him when you shouldn’t,” I say sharply, turning my gaze back to Jaxon. “Whatever is going on between the two of you sounds personal, which has nothing to do with the greater good of our lands.”
“Our lands? You’re not one of us.”
I bristle. I mean, he’s right. I wasn’t born in Eastonia. But I belong here more than I ever belonged in Crescent Falls.
“My daughter will be one of you. Everything I do is to better the world for her, just like everything you do is to bring justice for your family, correct?” I barely recognize my tone. I sound like my mom, honestly. The cool, calculated voice of the Luna I remember her being. “I don’t see how those two things are so different.”
He’s quiet for a beat, and where our conversation drops off, the sound of the crowd watching the fight begins to rise.
Ryatt lurches forward after several minutes’ worth of dance with his opponent. The white sand around them is stained red with blood I’m not sure belongs to my mate.
“Do you believe your mate and child are alive?” I ask.
“It’s been over a year,” he says, his eyes on the fight below us. “I would have heard otherwise by now.”
I realize what this is really about. Sure, Jaxon wants to expand his territory like all Alphas do. But the vendetta he has against my mate is misplaced, in my opinion. He wants access to the Roguelands to find his family, but he can’t just waltz in. Not with Ryatt’s forces actively watching the border. He’s too proud to just ask for our help.
“Before I killed King Kane,” I tell him, my eyes still fixed on Ryatt as he leaps onto the giant’s back and locks an arm around his neck, “Ryatt and his forces in the Roguelands secretly evacuated Rifthold. Even the dungeons in the fortress were cleared out. Hundreds of slaves–women, and children–were saved before Ryatt brought down the bridge connecting the two kingdoms. He wouldn’t have left anyone behind.”
Ryatt rears back, taking the giant with him. They hit the ground with a crack that echoes through the pit, but Ryatt still has an arm around the man’s throat.
“There are new villages cropping up all over the Roguelands,” I tell Jaxon. “Villages full of refugees from Rifthold. Shahar was her name, right? Your mate?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
I feel the sudden urge to take his hand, so I do. The action shocks him. He tries to pull away, but I tighten my grip and lean in to whisper, “I am the queen of the witches. They are the lifeblood of the Roguelands. They are the healers, teachers, and midwives. They have connections in every pack. If your mate and your child are in the Roguelands, I will find them.”
He tries to pull away once more, but I dig my nails into his skin. Meeting his eyes, I repeat, “I will find them, and they will be returned to you.”
“At what cost?”
“There’s only one thing I need from you.”
What I’m going to say next will complicate things. I don’t know if I can trust this man. I shouldn’t trust him, but I’ve met so many Alphas over the course of my life that I believe I’m a good judge of character, and Jaxon doesn’t strike me as a truly vindictive man.
He’s young, heartbroken, and doing the best he can for his people, even if that means cutting down Alphas who get in his way.
Those Alphas were our enemies, anyway.
“I was cursed by Kane. I don’t have long. I believe I’ll die during, or shortly after, our daughter’s birth. I have three or four months if I don’t find a cure.”
I release my grip on his hand and turn back to the fight. Ryatt is panting and grimaces as he continues to try to choke his opponent out.
“I will task my witches with finding your family,” I tell Jaxon, “if you lead me to the person I seek.”
“Who do you seek?” His voice is quieter now, softer and much more gentle.
Below, Ryatt grunts with effort as the man thrashes in his arms.
And then the man’s neck finally snaps, and his body goes limp.
Ryatt rises as the Alpha King of Eastonia, and I turn to Jaxon, whose eyes are on mine instead of the fight below. “I’m looking for a witch who lives in the Alabaster Mountains."