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The woman nodded, and Preston spun on his heel, disappearing the way he’d come.
“This isn’t right,” I pled. “I made no claim—”
Preston paused before the staircase, his eyes locking on mine. An unspoken threat lurked in his gaze. “Humans can be such liars, I’m afraid. She’s learned the error of her bold claims too late, and now she is terrified. Don’t listen to the way she begs.”
Dipping her head in acknowledgement, the woman smiled slowly. “I wouldn’t dream of doing so, Your Majesty,” she said, her tone low and predatory. “She will make this fight entertaining for us, I hope.”
As Preston’s footsteps retreated, the male guard lumbered toward me. Based on his grey skin, bulky build, and overlarge features, I guessed he was an ogre or troll of some kind. “Little weakling, will you walk on your own with what dignity you have left?” he demanded, his voice rumbling so deeply I could feel it reverberate in my chest. “Or will you give us the thrill of the chase and force us to catch and drag you in?”
My knees trembled and my head spun, turning so light I wondered if the effects of the medicine Garrick had given me had worn off...or if I was that terrified. Numbly, I met the ogre’s eyes, taking in his leering expression, and set my jaw. “I will walk.”
Both guards launched forward, shoving the creaking metal door inward and then pinning me with twin glares. Somehow, I staggered toward the entryway, blinking at the way the firelight from the balconied floor above painted the stone arena floor in bloody hues.
This is what you do? Stumble meekly to your death without protest?Rage flared in my heart, a swirling storm that wouldn’t be unleashed. It was trapped inside me, just like all my frustrated words of protest had always been back in Altidvale. Each unkind word. Each piece of gossip. I’d sat by and swallowed my pain and anger down, burying it beneath my calm exterior, pretending all was fine. If I’d made a scene, if I’d lostmy temper, I would have only proven their fears right. They’d seen me as dangerous and unlike them.
How true they’d ended up being.
But now? Now I was among monsters who’d rendered me powerless.
I walked and pretended I had a shred of dignity to care about, praying all the while to the distant gods that there was a way out of this.
Or maybe this was my path to freedom. Maybe my only chance in the cruel world of Brytwilde was to give in to death. At least this way, I wouldn’t be enslaved or tormented. I would be able to see my mother and stepfather again in the afterlife.
Tears blurred my vision, but I blinked them away. If death was to be my fate, I could accept it.
But I wouldn’t face it without trying to fight, even if I didn’t have the faintest idea how to defend myself in an arena.
I curled my fingers into fists at my sides as I stepped out into the empty arena. Curved walls, smooth and plain, encircled every side...except for the one opposite me, which bore a heavy metal door matching the one I’d walked through. When I peered upward, I found the countless fae above gawking at me from their comfortable chairs, which they’d pulled away from the tables to move closer to the railing. Some jeered or taunted, clearly eager to see me die. Others were quieter, more contemplative. Maybe they thought there was some truth to my alleged claim of being a Silverfrost.
My eyes skimmed over King Preston and Queen Nerissa, with their soulless eyes boring into me, and snagged on Garrick. I didn’t want to seek him out in the crowd, didn’t want my heart to skip when I saw him. But I found him anyway, and my heart jolted in spite of myself. His gaze was steady on mine, that expressionless mask concealing whatever he was thinking or feeling.
Please,I thought, begging him to understand me, to read my desperate expression.You defended me before. Show me I’m more than prey you were ordered to fetch. Show me you truly do care. That the man I thought I knew wasn’t a lie...
He remained silent, motionless. Nothing more than another observer to the entertainment the royal siblings had prepared. The storm within roared ever louder, full of aching pain that provided a sharper edge to my anger and fear. I tried again to draw on the magic in my veins, but it felt trapped—contained inside my body. Something was wrong, and I was going to die because of it.
Behind me, the door slammed shut, making me jump.
“Good citizens of Silverfrost,” Queen Nerissa began, standing and strolling toward the edge. She leaned over, her dark hair cascading over one shoulder as she peered at me, her lips curling in a chilling smile. “I do hope you enjoy the test we have prepared for our honored guest. As you know, anyone who claims Silverfrost blood must prove their worthiness. You have heard the rumors about this mere mortal’s powerful magic.”
As Queen Nerissa droned on about their revered traits of strength and ability and power, how I’d have to face my opponents as I was—weaponless, with only the magic I bore—I tried to steady my breathing and focus. Garrick couldn’t be trusted, but as a fae, he also couldn’t outright lie. And he’d told me my magic would be easier to access on this land. That it would be a natural extension of my thoughts and emotions. Maybe the royals had interfered with my magic, but it still lived in me, did it not? Surely, with enough effort, I could access it.
When I’d caused the avalanche, I’d feared for my life and Garrick’s. I hadn’t been able to control and hold back the power. When the winged fae man had attacked me, the ice I’d locked him within had come almost effortlessly.
Yet nothing was coming to me now, when I was awaiting death to pour forth from the opposite door and murder me in a spectacle before all these onlookers.
A tremble started in my fingers, rippling through my body. Did the siblings actually think Iwasa Silverfrost, and that was why they’d used forget-me-nots on me? Had my father been aroyal fae?Were they trying to protect their power, their places on the throne, by murdering me this way?
Did they truly seemeas a threat to their throne?
My mind whirled with the questions, but I didn’t have time to consider them. The door across from me swung inward, and not one but several opponents launched into the arena. I tensed, a fierce desire to live spiking in my chest. Even if I wasn’t sure what I was holding onto.
If I survived, what new torments would these siblings invent for me?
Swallowing my fear, I held my ground, refusing to allow the jeering crowd to see me retreat. There was nowhere to flee, anyway.
“A human thinking she’s a Silverfrost? The gall!” someone spat, so loudly I could hear past the screams and shouts piercing the air.
I tried to block it all out, tried to ignore the chant growing as more and more fae cried:Kill the mortal!
