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“I don’t see Omari,” I muttered to the others. “Or Ryker either.”
“Me neither.” Trace’s voice was strained with effort. “But I do see a god I recognize from when we snuck into the palace. Looks like Omari sent some lower level peons to deal with us. Must not’ve thought we were worth coming to kill himself.”
“I’m weirdly offended by that,” Merrick remarked, and I almost laughed.
“That’s good.” Lach’s lips drew back in a snarl. “If they’re lower level, it means we’ve got a better chance of kickin’ their arses.”
Good point.
I braced for another strike, already planning a counter-attack, but before it came, a sound to my left caught my attention.
“Great gods!” Wesley, who was protected by the dome just like the rest of us were, lifted his arms in a gesture of supplication. “I am honored to compete in your challenges, and I am proud of winning the competition last year. But I do not want to fight you.”
“What the fuck?” Trace sounded disgusted.
“I will happily compete against my fellow students, but I won’t compete against the gods who gave me everything—who granted me my magic,” Wesley continued, and my stomach twisted. “So I offer you my allegiance, my help, and my loyalty.”
“What the actual fuck?” This time, Trace yelled his comment, and several students echoed his sentime
nt.
But I saw other people nodding along with Wesley before turning to face the gods with awe in their faces. Whatever insane impulse had prompted Wesley to speak, he wasn’t alone.
And unlike the gods, they were inside the dome with the rest of us.
“I will prove my loyalty to you right now!” Wesley continued, his voice rising and his eyes shining.
Then he turned toward a group of students, ones who had spent the week training with the guys and me. He lifted one hand and then snapped it forward, sending out a whip of magic.
My breath caught in my throat.
Oh, no you fucking don’t.
Chapter Twelve
Fury lanced through me, and I threw out my own hand, sending a bright beam of magic hurtling toward Wesley’s magical whip.
My magic intercepted his just before it reached the girl he’d been aiming for. She and the others around her dived out of the way as a loud crack filled the air. Wesley’s magic and mine exploded, sending a shock wave through the dome.
“You son of a fucking bitch!” I screamed, advancing on him with my men at my side.
This asshole. This smelly little shit stain.
I remembered thinking to myself that I would protect even him from the gods if they tried to take us out—and now, here he was, offering to be their fucking lackey and kill his own people in service to them.
Well, fuck that noise.
The shield dome around us was still holding, but now that Wesley had turned traitor, others followed his example, turning on their fellow students. They probably hoped that attacking us would earn them leniency from the gods, and they were willing to sell us out if it helped them.
As more people turned their attention to defending themselves from attacks inside the dome, I watched the powerful, shimmering shield begin to grow more faint.
Fuck. Wesley and his cronies might not be good enough to take us all down, but if they weakened us to the point where the shield dropped, the gods would be able to pick us off easily.
“The shield!” I yelled, turning to face Lach, Merrick, and Trace. “Tell everyone to put everything they have into the shield!”
Trace’s dark brows pulled together. “Everything? Snow, we’re under attack here. Are you sure—”
“Yes.” I nodded, holding his gaze. “I’m sure.”
