Joke’s on him.
I ignored his glare and started filling my plate, putting on my best performance of complacency and ignorance as I ate my meal, casually sipping from my drink and eating the pastries without a care in the world. But I could feel him. I knew he was still staring at me. His fists were clenched as he rested his arms across the table, before flexing each of his fingers one at a time.
Did he regret not burning me last night? I saw through his lie. He thought walking me back to my room and trying to scare me would work, but I wasn’t leaving.
I hated both of them—the king for ordering it, and Arrik for being the one who actually did it.
But that didn’t matter right now. Instead, I just focused on the fact that I now had some sort of leverage over Arrik. Not that it was particularly useful. He wasn’t who I needed to focus on, but someone within the Drakin Army had to be a start.
Everyone was giddy today. The entire breakfast revolved around how the fights would go. From the conversations, I gleaned it was a free-for-all to the death. There was a mix of chatter about previous tournaments and assumptions on which initiates would survive the day.
It was a glorified betting pool.
The premise was simple—they had to stay alive until the suns set, and no one could leave the pit a second beforehand.
By the time the servants started clearing the table, King Elion had left. I waited until Arrik stood before I followed.
Just like the day before, he didn’t utter a single word to me as we walked down the outdoor steps leading to the Dome.
The only difference was, this time, I caught a glimpse of his expression as we descended down, and he was pissed.
Chapter Eighteen
The Vargothi
ARRIK
Icould barely focus as I watched the Vargothi, and no matter how much I tried to deny it, I knew it was because of the girl at my side.
Nollie was looking out at the projection, actually paying attention to the fighting, unlike everyone else on our balcony. Most Wielders used the tournament as an excuse for a week-long drunk fest, and it pissed me off.
People were dying, and yet, no one batted an eye.
I knew how hypocritical that sounded. It was why Nollie had barely talked to me today. Not that I had ever given her reason to talk to me, but she wasn’t asking as many questions as she did yesterday.
I let that Wielder burn without batting an eye, and she hated me for it. I could feel it—whatever little semblance of humanity she thought I possessed was gone the moment I dragged the girl into the fire to die.
I thought it would scare her away, but she was still fucking here.
I had no idea why it bothered me so much, whyshebothered me.
I didn’t care for anything or anyone. People died in front of me all the time, most by my own hands. It was why I learned to dissociate, except I couldn’t with her.
There was something about her that sparked my soul, that ignited me from the inside out and made me feel alive for the first time in the past one hundred and twenty-two years of my life, and despite the answer nagging me in the back of my mind, I refused to believe it. There was no way—but I had no other reason for why I cared about what happened to her…
It fucking terrified me.
I tried to get her to run last night, tried to warn her, and when I realized she snuck out onto the roofs, I made sure the girl burned slowly, hoping the brutality of it all would be enough to scare her away.
It didn’t make sense. If she wanted a chance at a normal life, she needed to get as far away from this hellhole as she could get. I had no idea what her life was like in Moriann, but judging from her Token, I guessed she didn’t have a good past. But fuck, I wanted to scream at her until she realized Elion was worse.
He was using her, only keeping her around to sell her right back to the Dead King, and the thought of the devil having her in his hands ate away at my soul.
Fuck. What the hell was wrong with me?
I didn’t care about people. I didn’t worry about anyone but myself.
I didn’t do this.
