“Hi,” he clipped back, not looking at her.
Frenzied Dienses, both her chosen fighters were in a fine mood tonight. Though it wasn’t much different than those excruciating training sessions. Or any of the time they’d spent together the past week, really. Whatever spectacle they were about to witness, Mireille had been tense about it for days. And Cassandra had barely seen Ronin, who spent every minute outside the training room trying to find Selene.
Cassandra ignored her gnawing loneliness and began scanning the crowd.
There was no sign of Wormwood nor the Koenig. And once again, Cassandra didn’t spy a single human. Their continued absence tightened the knot of dread in her stomach.
“You gonna tell me what this is all about?” Cassandra shouted into Mireille’s ear over the din.
“It’s called Harvest Night,” Mireille answered, her voice tight. “It occurs once a month. A sacrifice to Vestan to restore the hammer’s magic and allow the Koenig to refill the city’s provisions.”
Cassandra’s stomach dropped. “What kind of sacrifice?”
Mireille schooled her features into a terrifying neutrality, her silence saying more than Cassandra likely wanted to know. She understood why Mireille had waited until the last possible minute to tell her about it.
While most of the prisoners seemed nervous and jumpy, the Brethren were downright delirious with bloodlust. Fights erupted, shouts pierced the night, and Cassandra clenched her jaw so hard she thought her teeth might snap.
“Apothecarist!” a booming voice called out from across the square.
Mireille’s head whipped toward it. “Fuck,” she muttered, her gaze landing on the meanest-looking Brethren Cassandra had yet seen. The hulking beast of a male had pale ice-blue eyes, and his waist-length hair was nearly as dark as the black fur draped around his shoulders.
“Hang on. I need to handle this.” Mireille sauntered away, and a feral smile bloomed on the male’s face.
Ronin tensed, his golden-blue eye tracking Mireille across the square.
She paused before the raven-haired male, wrapping her arms around her chest, and he leaned down to whisper into her ear. She shook her head, fingers digging into her biceps.
Faster than Cassandra could blink, the Brethren clamped an arm around Mireille’s waist, hauled her against his chest, and clapped his other hand over her ass.
Ronin shot up from the bench, but reluctantly sat back down when another male beat him to Mireille’s rescue. The lean yet muscular Windrider sported dove-gray feathered wings, closely-shaved dark hair, and a rumpled linen tunic that was very different from the attire of the blue-eyed Brethren he was arguing with.
The Brethren threw his hands up and finally stalked off to rejoin his peers, who were throwing nasty slurs and catcalls at Mireille.
The Windrider placed his hands on Mireille’s shoulders and ducked his head as they conversed quietly. Whatever she saidmust have reassured him. After they parted, he returned to a diverse group of Fae gathered outside The Other Place.
“Who were those two?” Cassandra asked when Mireille sank down beside her.
“The Windrider with the gray wings is Silas. He’s a friend. The long-haired Brethren asshole is Jonas. He is not. Or at least, not anymore.”
Cassandra could’ve sworn she felt Ronin twitch, though he was very intensely pretending not to listen. “And what did they want?” she asked Mireille.
“Nothing.” A slight tremor shook Mireille’s hand as she raked it through her copper waves. Ronin’s eye darted right to it. “They… It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
A hush fell over the crowd as Wormwood, who’d finally arrived, climbed the steps to the platform.
“Friends,” he crowed. “Welcome to Harvest Night!”
Violent cheers rose from the Brethren, while most of the rest of the crowd remained silent.
Wormwood continued, “Tonight is a very special Harvest Night, as it will be the last before a spectacle which we have not enjoyed in over fifty years. There is a new challenger among us. A prisoner who arrived with a death sentence. And lucky for us, she has requested an executioner’s appeal from our beloved Koenig!”
The Brethren erupted into uproarious laughter. A few of the other prisoners joined in. Cassandra’s face heated.
Mireille squeezed her hand, whispering into her ear. “Fuck those bastards. They won’t be laughing when you win.”
Cassandra offered Mireille a wan smile, grateful that the female was trying to lift her spirits. But truthfully, Cassandra didn’t know if they could get any lower.
“Challenger!” Wormwood called, his mousy brown eyes seeking her out. “Show yourself! Let the citizens of Tartarus say hello. And goodbye.”
