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“You think you’re better than us?” he snarls under his breath. I suppress the urge to cringe as his hot, putrid breath invades my nostrils, making my skin crawl as it curls around me, his blond hair ruffled by the light breeze.
“You thought you were going to walk out of here?” he chuckles maniacally, pitching his voice low so no one in the crowd can hear us. He narrows his hazel eyes on me, and I see the calculating intent there. The cold glint of a steel blade flashes, brandished in his palm. He keeps it close, out of the view of the spectators. A chill slithers its way up my spine, tightening around my chest and my breaths come in short, quick pants.
“Think again,” he sneers.
He barely gets the words out before he jabs the blade towards me. So fast, it wavers in my vision, seeming like a flash of light from the sun glinting off its sharp edge. The tip pricks my skin then slips into my abdomen, and he buries the blade to its hilt as he steps into me. Bile rises in my throat at the nearness.
“From the council,” he whispers in my ear before he’s launched backward. Replaced by the four faces of my guys. I see their mouths moving, but I can’t make out a word.
My eyes move down to my stomach, to the hilt protruding there. My hand flies to the wound, my hands shaking as I cover it, feebly attempting to put pressure on it. Shock and disbelief flood my system, and my mouth pops open, trying to piece together everything that just happened. With the adrenaline starting to slowly fade, pain sweeps over my body, and my warm blood coats my fingers. I struggle to pull in ragged breaths, urging my mind to work, yet, it’s like wading through mud. My legs give out beneath me, and I crumple to the ground. The cool blades of grass tickling my cheek and masculine hands wrapping around me are the last thing I feel before my eyes slowly shutter, blocking out the last rays of sun, and plunging my consciousness into a cold dark abyss.
I wake with a jolt and sit straight up in my bed. Throwing the covers off me, the cool morning air chills my skin, now coated in a light sheen of sweat. My heart thunders beneath my hand. My breaths come in ragged, and I try to calm them. I drag in a deep breath, feeling my lungs expand, and hold in for a moment before exhaling, repeating until my heart rate settles.
It was only a dream, I say to myself, but no matter how many times I repeat it in my mind, I can’t shake the feeling that isn’t entirely true. My hand slides down to my stomach, feeling the spot where the blade plunged into me. I lift up my shirt, inspecting the smooth skin there, not even a mark in sight. Yet, I still feel a twinge of pain where the hilt stuck out of me in my dream. I let the thoughts go, knowing it will do nothing to help me now, but I keep it in the back of my head, running over the details over and over again as I go through the motions, mindlessly getting ready for the impending trial.
My hand clasps the doorknob and swings open the wooden door. Pausing in the threshold, I notice the house is much quieter than normal. The familiar murmuring voices or clattering of dishes is absent, and an eerie tension hangs thickly in the air. I cautiously make my way down the stairs. Clad in my training attire, my hair—tied into a tight ponytail—bounces against my back. I miss the sound of my usual heels clacking down the wooden stairway. Instead, my running shoes softly land on each step, unable to break through the silence.
I peer around the corner, still wary from the vestiges of the icy fear still clinging to my body. Kyros and Maximus wait in the sitting room, and I breathe a sigh of relief, my shoulders slumping and a fraction of the nervous energy flees my body. I look around, trying to spot the others.
“They’re meeting us there,” Kyros says, noticing my gaze. He springs up from his seat, perched on the arm of the couch, and gives me a tight smile as I descend the last stair. But I don’t miss the disapproval in his eyes. I glance at Maximus, seeing cold fury in his gaze, that is until he meets mine and it instantly vanishes. Clearly something happened between the four gods, and I’m sure it has something to do with Mateo’s strange behavior and Adrian’s reluctance to even be in the same room as me. I swallow thickly at that, remembering the confrontation last night…
I rub my chest, feeling an echo of the deep ache in my heart, as my two other mates are still missing. I take a deep breath, steeling myself before I nod at Maximus and Kyros.
“Let’s go kick some ass.”
* * *
The bright sunbeams in the sky, and I squint, the light temporarily blurring my vision. I blink, allowing my eyes to adjust for a moment before my vision clears.
I take a few steps towards the academy before Kyros’ hand grasps my bicep, and I look up into eyes which are smiling down at me with amusement. Before I can say a word, he cocks his head in the other direction.
Turning, I finally take in my surroundings instead of blindly moving forward, walking up the path as I’ve done countless times before. Students stream past us, making their way away from the school. I huff out a breath of exasperation and start in the other direction. Kyros’ amused laugh rings out behind me.
My lips quirk to the side as we walk further down the path, following the growing crowd of students into a part of the academy grounds I’ve never seen before. We make our way up a steep hill, and as we reach the top, I look out at the horizon, admiring the landscape as the morning sun beams down on us, warming my skin. An outdoor arena is set up and towering bleachers surround a field of landscaped grass. White circles are painted on the grass, seemingly giving the field a layout for the matches to take place.
Maximus’ massive hand lands on my back, guiding me to continue down the path. A goofy grin stretches across my face at the fact that I can tell their touches apart already, even from the slightest caress. My mouth dries as I walk farther down the hill, my stomach dropping further and further with each step towards the arena. The rhythm of my heart picks up in my chest.
Grateful for their support, I let Maximus and Kyros’ comforting presence relax me a fraction. Yet, despite their reassuring proximity, I can’t help the way my thoughts drift to Mateo and Adrian, wishing they were by my side too.
My thoughts focus on Mateo, my heart sinking as I remember his bitter words in the training room. I had noticed nothing off after I returned, other than the tension with my father. As I recall our previous interactions, a wave of disappointment washes over me, missing the god of war that burst into my life, and refused to accept any other option than being included in it. We may not have had as much of an opportunity to explore our connection yet, but it’s there, and it’s real, and it hurts that it appears he, too, is taking a step back.
He seemed undeterred after realizing that my father is Osias, especially with his insistence that I’m his mate. Has something changed? Did the idea of my father being someone he has butted heads with for centuries become too much to overcome? Did he need some time to come to terms with everything?
I can’t help but feel a pang of resentment that neither Mateo nor Adrian are here to support me, to see how I’m doing before my first trial, to offer me some sign of comfort or solidarity, or that they even cared.
I thought Adrian and I were moving in the right direction after our encounter in the hallway, the way his arms cradled me against his chest, his insistence that we would talk soon. But my heart plummets in my chest as I remember the disappointment that washed over me after realizing Adrian had again snuck off without a word during an important conversation. One where I was trying to show them that I’m changing, that I want to keep them apprised of my plans and actions and ensure that they knew I wouldn’t leave without a word again.
Maximus guides me off the path, and away from the other students, leading us to a small tent. The change in direction jolts me from my thoughts and I blink in surprise, noticing the tent is the only one in the vast open field just outside the arena. I turn to observe the other students, but none of them even takes a second glance at the tan fabric buffeted by the slight breeze. The open tent flaps wave against their restraints, and I struggle to see inside.
Only when we enter through the wide opening, do I see the figures inside. A shimmering wave of gold light appears as we cross through the barrier, confirming my suspicions. My father stands on one side of the tent, and his words cut off abruptly as I enter. I can only imagine whom they’re aimed at since Mateo is still glaring in his direction.
I shake my head in exasperation at the two. Strangely enough, they both seem cowed by the gesture, and my brows furrow in confusion. Neither of these men are ones to back down from a confrontation, especially not with each other.
There’s no time to let that draw my focus away from today. Adrian is hanging back in the corner, wearing a tight-fitting T-shirt and jeans. He crosses his arms over his chest, and my eyes can’t help but be drawn to the way the fabric clings against his corded pecs. I hasten my gaze away, not wanting him to notice my appreciative stare, not with so much still lingering between us.
“The matches will begin in ten minutes,” my father announces, jerking my gaze back to him. “There’s a board just on the inside of the arena with everyone’s matchups and locations.”
I nod in understanding, letting his cool, calm tone chase away some of the nervous energy.
