Caben moves to his left and lunges, snapping his blade taut against my hip.
“Point, me,” he proclaims.
Goddess.
“Nice way to change it up,” I say.
His dark eyebrows shoot up. “A compliment?” He chuckles. “They need to feed us better. You’re starting to lose your edge.”
It’s impossible to measure the passing of time down here. There’s no sky, no sun, no devices in the cell to determine it. So I keep track of when Bax comes and goes, sends food, makes announcements. He must be going by some sort of schedule. I just need to learn it, and discover when Caben and I can find privacy to inspect the waterfall.
It’s now after our second meal—we only get two—and the contenders are mingling in the master cell and their private chambers. Yesterday, Bax came to pronounce that we performed well for the gamblers and he was pleased with his league. So I sit patiently in the corner, waiting for him to make an appearance.
Caben and Crew are talking a few feet away, and I hope the prince isn’t giving away any information. He truly does confound me. One moment he’s clueless, seeking guidance like a man-child, and the next he’s cunning and grappling like a
war lord.
Astonishing.
No, still confounding. I shake my head. When we escape and the Otherworlders’ reign of horror ends, I wonder what the future holds for us. Will he speak to me as familiar as he does down here? When he makes his visits to Cavan, maybe? Will we share knowing glances, but pretend we were never cellmates?
Or maybe he’ll simply never travel to Cavan, as he never did before.
I trace my wounded finger across the stone floor, making swirls in the dirt. It’s not important, and doesn’t matter what the rulers of the Three Realms do. Why should that matter to me? I need to be focused on getting us out of here. That’s all.
Maybe Caben is right. Poor diet is weakening my mind and body. I groan. You’d think the ring leaders would want their contenders in the best shape possible. But maybe not. Maybe they only want them strong enough to fight for their lives, but not outwit or outmuscle them.
Somewhere on the other side of these walls, Lilly, Willa, and the other Nactue are thinking and plotting, too. Lilly may even have figured out the mystery boggling my thoughts. I’ll get to her, I assure myself. Then I close my eyes for a moment.
Far away, Empress Iana is resting in a sick bed, praying for her people as her life force fades dimmer. The very thing to restore her health is just streets away. I wish I could feel my mother as I do the empress—to at least know that she’s alive. Safe.
My eyes snap open and I look down at my cuff. Crew said it was a monitor, but I wonder if it actually monitors our whereabouts or simply our wins and identity. And if so, whether there’s a way to disarm the locator.
The loud clank of the cell door opening interrupts my contemplation. Bax enters the room with a small smile curling his thin lips, his armored chest puffed out.
“Contenders,” he says, his deep voice rumbles. “The Reckoning begins in eight hours. You’re competing for the freedom ring. I suggest you rest up.” He lifts his chin. “May the finest contender win.”
Competing, I scoff inwardly, my muscles tensing.
Crew jumps to his feet and turns toward Bax. “Who fights first?” he asks. “And where’s my cuff—the one with my wins?”
Bax rolls his shoulders back, his face hardens. “I did not give you permission to ask questions. But since you bring up some good points, I’ll answer.” His eyes roam over the contenders, and I grip the hem of my tunic between clenched fingers. I plead to Farrah that Caben won’t be chosen to fight one of my sisters.
I’m only slightly relieved when Bax’s gaze lands on Tobias. “The Dark Horse, Tobias, will face-off with Collar’s equally matched Metal Mouth.”
My chest loosens and I breathe. Though the fact that I’m thankful someone other than my charge or sisters may die first fills me with guilt. Before my thoughts dive any darker, Bax clears his throat, calling our full attention.
“And,” he continues. “Since this is a new season, you’re cuffs have been replaced—to ready you for your wins for the Reckoning.”
Everyone glances at their cuffs. My three stones shimmer, but no lights. I look up to see the rest of the contenders’ cuffs dull and unlit. Cleared—the deaths wiped out. Crew shouts out and barrels toward Bax. A guard captures his arms, pulling him back. Tobias starts, only getting a foot ahead before he’s taken down by Bax’s other guard. The chains on the guards’ chests rattle against their dark armor as they wrestle the furious contenders.
Outside the cell, five more guards fill the entrance, ready to dampen any attempts at a riot.
Crew’s chest heaves and his face pinches in anger. “You can’t do this,” he snarls.
For a moment—almost too quickly—Bax’s mouth turns down, his expression remorseful. But then it’s gone, his features snapping back into their usual hard mask. “Rest up,” he says, then exits the cell.
The guards drop Crew and Tobias to the ground, clamp their pale hands on their weapons, and wait to see if the other contenders will retaliate. As Crew picks himself up, the guards eye him. He turns and heads toward his personal chamber.