Page 414 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“For you to find, sweetness,” she purred, standing and giving me her last obligatory once-over.

Nothing about this outfit felt right. Not the leather sandals strapped around my feet and calves. Not the leather fucking skirt, exposing more thigh than made sense given my task today. Not the golden armor or the red detailing of the bodice.

But what did I know?

Weapons weren’t allowed in Bellpost—not for anyone but Moros’ personal guard or his warriors. Instead, we were expected to duke it out with our opponents for the best pieces tossed into the ring. The first fight was for steel, the second for blood.

“Who do I face today?” I asked as she led me out into the hallway. On reflex, I reached for her, and Marley pulled me through the strange, sticky gray of the shadows. As we solidified outside the ring, Marlana eyed me, uncertainty lining her features. Or at least, I thought that was the emotion that flashed across those dark brown eyes. For all that was lost with ascension, I seemed to have a natural inclination for reading people’s expressions, their motives, their habits. According to Marley, it was what made me lethal in past lives, what made me lethal in the ring.

“An enemy.”

“That’s it?” I asked flatly. I side-eyed her. My skepticism must’ve been obvious, because she snickered, the sound swallowed by the telltale clash of steel and flesh, the cheers and taunts of the crowd.

With a sigh, she expanded. “He descends from the Terramyst wolves.”

“Origin of the male who stole Moros’ mate,” I recited from our lesson last week.

“Correct.”

We stepped into the aisle between rabid onlookers, their enthusiasm for the bloodshed still striking me as rather… distasteful. Heart steady, body coiling for the fight, I followed her toward the ring as their voices reached their zenith. Someone was about to die, I guessed.

“Did he play a part?”

“Unknown, but…”

“But what?” I bit out, unable to quell the irritation in my chest.

“He slaughtered our children in the assault on Seattle.”

My feet faltered for the first time since she’d first led me into the ring. Unease churned my stomach, my hands flexing at my sides.

“Shifters are untrustworthy by nature,” she explained, turning to face me. “They trick and lie and deceive, changing words as rapidly as they change forms. Don’t allow him to lull you into complacency. This one is particularly skilled behind a sword and more talented with diplomacy. He’ll try to get into your head. Don’t let him.”

Nodding, I wet my lips as we stepped up to the ring. The crowd fell into a hush, everyone lifting their gazes expectantly. I didn’t have to follow them to know what they sought—Moros was passing judgment. Determining if the victor was to kill or spare their opponent.

The crowd’s roar told me the answer—followed immediately by the nauseating wet sound of steel through a body.

Would that be me next? If I couldn’t best my opponent, would Moros order my death? Or was Marley right in her estimation that he had bigger plans for me outside the arena—just using it as a proving ground?

“Tips?” I watched the back of the shirtless fighter before me—broad, muscled, his arms scarred like a burn victim—as he pulled his sword from his opponent and the man collapsed to the ground. The ringmaster vaulted over the fence as it sank into the earth, raising his victor’s bandaged hand into the air. Hair that had probably been golden once was matted with gore and tied at the base of his neck. His muscles tensed at the touch of Moros’ man. His hand on me made my skin crawl too, though I couldn’t justify it with action.

“He will outmatch you in both size and strength. You must compensate with wit and speed.”

I nodded as the victor haughtily yanked his arm free, stalking for the steps. He paused on them beside a man just as tall, but broader in the shoulders. They exchanged words as fresh weapons were ceremoniously placed at the center of the ring.

A pull at my center shoved me forward, my hands beginning to shake as I zeroed in on the task ahead. The fighters seemed to finish their exchange, but when the man with unkempt reddish-brown hair looked toward me, the blond grabbed him roughly by the arm and leaned in.

My opponent dipped his chin, straightened his spine, and marched up the steps as a guard hit the blond in the back with a baton.

The moment we both stepped into the ring, the barrier shot up in a wall of lethal spear points.

I hadn’t expected the great rattle that sent dust raining from the sky… or the onslaught of screams from the crowd.

Assess your surroundings. A voice more summer thunder than spirit guided me from my distant memories.

I eyed the weapons first: an axe, a sword, two daggers, two round shields engraved with markings. To either side of the cage were spears—one each.

The goal would be to get a distance weapon and one of the short blades—likely the axe, as they required less precision, and based on the fact that the man’s biceps were wider around than my thighs, I wanted to put as much space between me and his brute force as I could.