Kaleb
Silas has a private box in the arena that overlooks the grounds. I squint through the bright, unforgiving lights to the magical dome, watching rain pound the king’s shields. It had been a clear, hot night before this. The rain started only minutes ago, absolutely drenching Pantharas–a flood of epic proportions. Compared to the long-awaited rain that blessed the Glade recently, this feels more like a punishment.
Silas paces, glancing at the arena, which is empty. “She should have come out by now. It’s been three hours.”
“She’ll come,” I say, my voice booming through the alabaster room. Benches in shades of pale cream take up the majority of the space. I should be down near the grates, ready to run onto the sand to get her when she arrives, but I was barred entrance to the lower levels of the arena today. The king is playing games now. Lexa shouldn’t have made it past the beast trial, and now he blames me.
Thunder crackles, booming over the arena. Lightning flares in strips overhead, muted by the shield. I grip the railing, hanging my head.
“She should be back!” Silas curses under his breath, running his fingers through his hair. “Did you even warn her? This is the most challenging and deadly event of the Trials, Kaleb.”
“Of course I warned her,” I snap, teeth bared. “She’ll finish.”
He huffs a breath, shaking his head as he paces, unable to stand still.
A hum of excitement lifts from the crowd below us, and Silas and I both look to the far end of the arena, where a gate hangs open, the exit of the maze nothing more than a gaping shadow against a wash of polished alabaster stone.
I hold my breath for an outcome that doesn’t come to fruition.
Meg rushes into the arena, soaking wet, battered, but alive. She falls to her knees, gasping for breath against a rush of applause, but my eyes lift to the king and the men enjoying the view from the royal box–including her sponsor and trainer.
“She’s the one he wants to win,” Silas growls, whispering a curse.
“Why?”
“Hell if I know. I do, however, know her sponsor is doing everything he can to win the king’s favor, and Meg seems to be part of it. I have no idea what any of those men have promised her, but it’s a lie. They’ll cull her even if she wins the games.”
I shake my head in disgust. “It’s political warfare.”
“Of course, it is. The king is well aware that the rebellion has taken root in Pantharas and is doing everything he can to sniff us out. He has his suspicions about me, but it doesn’t matter, not now.”
“What do you mean?” Another roar of applause sounds as a second competitor hurries out of the maze–a man this time. He’s fully fae. I don’t know his name, but I know for a fact that he was the chosen one, the one meant to win, the system rigged in his favor–until recently, it seems, now that the king is apparently leaning toward Meg being his champion.
I’m doing everything in my power to keep my head on straight as the minutes tick by, and the king doesn’t call an end to the game, which means Lexa is still alive, still working through the maze.
Meg and the fae man rest in the center of the arena, but Meg rises, waving at the excited crowd, and Silas scoffs.
“Ignore her.”
“You see what they’ve made her? She’s propaganda, Kaleb. The king will use her as a talking head, showing her off like a prize to the other kings, other kingdoms who’ve long since freed their shifters. Look at this pretty little wolf,” he sneers, his tone like acid. “See how malleable she is? How easily she bows? He’ll use her in the Glade to try to turn your own people against you, using her as a promise of prosperity if they just fall in line.”
“That won’t happen because she won’t win.”
“Then, it’ll be her against Lexa. You realize that? Do you think the next game will sway in Lexa’s favor when it’s the last game of the Trials? The king will do what needs to be done to ensure Lexa’s death. You have to realize that.”
“And what of your rebellion, Silas? Where do you stand now? What is the plan?”
“Now you want in?” he gripes, shaking his head. “Now that your own mate is on the chopping block–”
“What is your problem?” I shout, and he turns his back to me.
The door to the viewing room opens on a phantom wind, letting in the hum of the crowd before closing with a snap. Wet, heavy footsteps follow in the wake of a man dressed in all black, his cloak laden with rain.
The Architect shrugs out of his cloak and drapes it over one of the benches before swiping his fingers through his wet hair, his violet eyes scanning the room and then meeting mine.
We’d spoken only briefly the last time I saw him, and I’d been uneasy about it, and rightfully so. There’s something about him that doesn’t sit well with me, especially his interest in Lexa. He’d asked if I’d protect her. I told him that was my duty as her sponsor and trainer, but that answer hadn’t been good enough for him. He wanted me to swear.
I had.
I’d also given him all of the information I knew about the palace and Hannibal, who seems to have his special interest. I’m not surprised by that, given that Hannibal is the king’s seer, one of the only fae with full access to their powers without having to pay the king the magical tithe that keeps the lights on in Pantharas and the king on his eternal throne.
Silas and I watch the architect move to the railing to stand between us in silence. There’s something about him that unnerves me. His face is familiar. Carved from stone I’ve seen before. The high cheekbones and the regal, straight nose. The shape of the eyes… I’ve seen them somewhere, but the color is all wrong.
The Architect turns his face to look at me. I stare, not bothering to hide it, and he sighs as he rolls his eyes back to the arena, to the open exit.
“There will be a meeting,” he says to us, his voice low. “Kaleb will be called before the king. It’s a distraction to get Lexa alone. She will be taken from the Glade and separated from Kaleb.” I stiffen, and Silas turns, but the man continues, “Silas, you must return to the Highwoods until next week. Lexa will stay at your house starting tomorrow morning. As long as she’s not in the Glade, the king’s plan will not come to fruition.”
“What are you talking about?”
He looks at me again, those eyes swirling with power I can feel on my skin as he inspects my expression. “The king can’t charge into a High Lord’s home without raising questions. He has nothing of substance on Silas to elicit such behavior. Lexa will be safe there. The king can send his guards into the Glade any time he wants without anyone doubting his motives.”
“How do you know this?”
“Because I’ve seen it.” He straightens, running his hand over his face. “And Lexa cannot be left to her own devices. I suggest one of you is with her all the time. Don’t leave her with a maid or cook. She’ll leave. She’ll try to get back to you.” He directs those last words at me, narrowing his eyes.
Then I see it. The startling resemblance.
I grab his shirt, but he seems to have been expecting this moment. He grunts but settles as I twist the fabric, pulling him onto the tips of his toes. “Who are you?”
“Kaleb!” Silas sneers. “Let him go!”
“My name is Blake,” he rasps.
“Who are you?” I repeat. His violet eyes hold mine.
“Lexa is my younger cousin. Our fathers are twins. She’s practically, genetically, a sister. You just noticed the resemblance, didn’t you?” I let him go, shoving him back, and he stumbles before gripping the railing to right himself.
“What’s going on here?” I look at Silas, arching a brow. “Did you know?” I grab Blake again, but this time he fights back, trying to shove me away. He’s a match for me height-wise, but I have bulk on him, and he quickly submits when I grip his throat and whirl, backing him into a wall. “What kind of game is this? Does she know you’re here?”
“No,” he chokes out, but his eyes remain calm. “I showed myself to her in the maze, but she’s fighting for her life as we speak. Hannibal’s powers nearly subdued her.”
My grip eases involuntarily.
He licks his lips before shoving me away again, and I let him.
I back toward Silas, who’s wild eyed and confused. Blake coughs, struggling to swallow, bracing himself against the wall. He holds out a hand in surrender. “I came here, to Pantharas, before Lexa was taken, but I knew it would happen.”
I lurch toward him, riding a wave of fury so sharp it heats my body from the inside out, but Silas grabs me and yanks me back.
Blake raises a second hand, his eyes widening when he notices the pure, unfiltered rage pouring off me. “I’m going to get her out of here–”
“Why are you here?” I shout.
“It’s complicated,” Blake grinds out, but then a horn blares, and the crowd goes wild below, and all three of us turn on instinct.
I rip out of Silas’s hold as Lexa stumbles into the arena. Her face is covered in blood from what I can tell, and she’s soaking wet, fumbling with each step as she moves into the light. The gate grinds closed behind her, closing off access to the maze. It’s done. It’s over.
But then she sees Meg.
“Fuck,” I snarl, clutching the railing. “Don’t. Lexa, don’t.”
Lexa straightens, her eyes narrowing on Meg, who stands several yards away.
The crowd continues to scream for the victors as the king begins to speak in the fae tongue, but Lexa ignores them all, taking several determined steps in Meg’s direction.
I tear away from the railing, stalking toward the door, but guards appear the second I pull it open.
“What’s the meaning of this?” I ask, whirling back to Silas, who’s standing wide-eyed at the space where… Blake was just standing.
He’s gone.
I look back at the arena. Guards have arrived to take the victors away. Lexa says something to Meg, but I can’t hear a thing she’s saying, and Meg just… smiles at her.
A sick, menacing kind of smile.
Lexa is going to fucking kill her. I can feel it like her rage is in my chest, burrowing deep.
“We’re here to escort you back to the arena to fetch your victor,” one of the guards says.
Silas meets my eyes. A lingering hint of shock is visible behind his big blue eyes.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” I tell him and move. “We’ll talk about this then.”
It doesn’t take long to reach the inner sanctum of the arena. Lexa stands surrounded by guards, her head in her hands. I shove past them, grab her arm, and begin to weave through the crowded corridors and caverns, ignoring the sea of guards following our every step.
Blake was right. Something else is going on. There’s a shift in the air as we move closer to the gate of the Glade. More guards than ever stand there. Some stare at me from beneath their lashes, giving me looks of quiet comradery, but the others stare in disdain, maybe even disgust.
The door within the ancient gate opens, and I usher Lexa inside without a word, scooping her up before her toes even touch the soil of the Glade, and carry her home. She doesn’t fight it. Her head lulls against my chest, her cheeks scratched raw and ears covered in dried blood.
Lis and Chastan are waiting for us, but when they see her, they move back into the shadows, allowing me to quietly carry her upstairs to my bed, where I lie her down and inspect the gashes on her face… from her own nails.
“My head is killing me,” she says weakly.
“Who is Blake?”
Her eyes fly open and meet mine.