Aeron led me through the snow, and I kept my cloak pulled tightly around me. Shalini walked silently by my side. She seemed furious with me, unwilling to utter a word. Or maybe it was simply her nerves keeping her silent, but a sense of foreboding hung over both of us. In just hours, I’d be battling the princesses.
Up ahead, a gray stone amphitheater loomed over the horizon—half ruined, like the Colosseum. Twice the size of Rome’s arena, the stone was a gleaming black under the glaring sun. Icicles hung from its dark rock.
Today, we’d be fighting like gladiators on a frozen landscape.
Princess Eliza of the Selkie walked ahead, her green hair hanging over silver armor. She glanced back at me once or twice, looking slightly nauseous.
I let out a long, slow breath. Soon, Moria and Cleena would battle in the amphitheater, and they’d already arrived. I think I knew how it would end. Cleena would yield quickly. Moria? She’d fight to the death if it came down to it.
The icy wind nipped at my cheeks, and my feet crunched over the snow.
I hadn’t seen Torin once that morning, but I was putting him out of my head. Today was about staying alive and winning the prize I’d come here for.
When we reached the icy ruin, I followed the guard into a dark tunnel.
“Not too late,” Shalini whispered.
“Have some faith,” I snapped back.
The guard pulled a torch off the wall to guide us. The firelight danced over carvings in the stone—the names of fae who’d fought here before, their victories over their monstrous Unseelie foes. Images, too—a king pointing a sword at a fae with enormous horns curved like a ram’s, his head bowed in submission.
My chest felt tight as I heard the distant roar of the crowd. The serpentine tunnel wound under the ground, the roaring growing louder, until at last, the tunnel opened into the amphitheater itself, and the bright winter sunlight nearly blinded me.
When we stepped from the tunnel, we were greeted by a deafening roar, the sound of fifty thousand fae cheering.
Shalini clutched my elbow, and together we stared, awestruck. The entire stadium was full, every seat occupied, and they were all screaming my name.
“Ava! Ava! Ava!”
I swallowed hard, shocked that I’d become a favorite even among the fae. I’d never actually expected to be forgiven for drunkenly insulting the king to his face, but maybe even the fae liked an underdog.
“Holy shit!” Shalini shouted in my ear. My thoughts exactly.
Eliza turned to look at me, her jaw set tight. “Sounds like they really like you. Even though you’re not from here. Even though you’re not really one of us. There is something about you that’s not quite right, Ava, and I think it’s more than growing up among humans.”
I could hear the tinge of resentment in her voice, and I didn’t reply.
As we stared from the tunnel, a crone shuffled into the arena, dressed in red gossamer that looked far too thin for the weather. She wore a silver crown over her rose gold hair.
The TV crew rolled closer to her, which seemed to startle her. Then she raised her arms. “Welcome to the final contest for the hand of the king!” Her voice was deep, booming. Even without a microphone, it echoed off the stone. “Tonight, some of the princesses may die. But they will die for the Seelie kingdom so that it might breathe with life again. And for the Seelie monarch, Torin, High King of Faerie, ruler of the six united clans.”
She turned, motioning to him. King Torin sat on a throne made of black stone, looking for all the world like a sinister, wintry Roman emperor.
Without another word, the crone climbed the dark steps and stood behind Torin.
From my position in the tunnel, I watched as Moria and Cleena entered the arena. Like me, Moria wore dark leather, while Cleena was clad in a thin platinum suit. I could tell from Moria’s stance that she was a skilled swordswoman. She held the blade loosely, but it didn’t waver. Cleena, however, appeared to be shaking. I’d never actually seen her nervous before, but she seemed completely out of place.
From the stone platform, the crone opened her mouth and shrieked, “Begin the fight!”
As the crowd cheered, the princesses began to circle each other, blades glinting in the sunlight. Moria struck first, and Cleena’s blade flashed up. It was a good parry, but she barely deflected Moria’s attack.
She stepped back, holding her blade ready. Moria lunged, and Cleena was hardly able to deflect the strike. Moria, clearly sensing she had the upper hand, began to circle the banshee princess. Every few seconds, she lunged, stabbing.
Cleena continued to defend herself, but her parries were late, each time only just deflecting Moria’s blade. Moria’s burgundy hair flashed in the sunlight as she controlled the arena. She held her rapier high, pointing it at Cleena’s heart.
She darted forward, her full weight behind the strike. Cleena tried to deflect it, but Moria drove her rapier home, stabbing it through Cleena’s shoulder. Cleena fell to her knees, screaming in pain. It was the cry of a banshee ringing across the icy landscape, and I covered my ears.
But the fight was still going, and Cleena rose to her feet. She backed away from Moria, blood dripping from her shoulder. “Moria,” she said, almost pleadingly.
Moria ignored her, striking again, this time stabbing low. Her blade punched through Cleena’s right thigh.
The Banshee princess shrieked as blood spurted onto the icy ground.
“Two to zero,” shouted the crone, her eyes flashing with excitement. She let out a laugh that sounded unhinged.
Moria circled like a vulture over an injured gazelle. I could tell from her body language she knew she’d already won. All Cleena could do was limp away, trying to stay out of range of Moria’s sword. Pain etched her features, and she was whispering something I couldn’t hear. Probably trying to give up.
Slowly, Moria stalked her, her body tense with excitement. Cleena’s injured leg gave out, and she stumbled, dropping to one knee. Moria stood over her, victorious, but she didn’t strike. Instead she looked to me. Our eyes met. A faint smile played on her lips, then she slowly winked at me.
She raised her sword, ready to bring it down onto Cleena’s head—
“Enough!” Torin’s voice filled the arena, and Moria froze.
Torin rose from his throne, holding out his hand. “You’ve won, Princess Moria. There is no need to execute her now. You have won.”
I let out a long, slow breath. If it hadn’t been for that wink, he might not have been able to stop it. Next time, I thought darkly, Moria would strike before he could intercede.
I just had to make sure she didn’t get the chance.
Etain strode into the arena dressed in pale armor, her hair braided on her head. She stood across from Sydoc, who wore metallic boots and a crimson cap over her black hair. With a jolt of nausea, I realized Sydoc had already soaked her hat in someone’s blood. Where the fuck had that come from?
When Sydoc smiled, I caught a hint of fangs.
But Etain didn’t seem scared. In fact, her smile was just as terrifying, and she looked ready for blood.
Etain attacked first, immediately striking Sydoc in the shoulder. The Redcap roared, on the attack now. She was brutal, ferocious, and her black hair flew behind her as she drove Etain back. Etain was fast, but Sydoc was faster. She cornered the beautiful Etain against the wall and drove her blade clean into Etain’s neck, severing her jugular.
Blood poured from Etain’s throat, her eyes wide with horror. Even from here, I could see the light leaving Etain’s eyes. Sydoc ripped out her sword, and Etain’s lifeless body slumped to the ground, her blood pooling on the ice.
But it wasn’t enough for Sydoc. She brought her metal boot down hard on Etain’s ribs.
Etain wasn’t alive anymore. This was simply some sort of crazed bloodlust.
The crowd roared their approval.
Holy shit. What was wrong with these people?
At last, catching her breath, Sydoc leaned down and dipped her cap in Etain’s blood, soaking up the gore. She pulled the hat onto her black hair, her face beaming.
She lifted her sword, victorious before the crowd, Etain’s blood streaming down her face.
In the tunnel, Eliza and I exchanged nervous looks, her previous confidence completely gone. Now, she merely looked terrified. And I couldn’t blame her.
Torin’s head was bowed, his expression solemn. I stared as someone carried Etain’s body into one of the tunnels.
The crone hobbled down the steps again, the wind whipping at her hair. She wore a grin that sent a chill through me.
“The next duel will be between Princess Eliza and Ava Jones.”
My heart began to thunder, and I stepped slowly into the arena with Eliza by my side.
The winter winds toyed with her green hair, her locks shimmering in the pale sunlight. She took her position across from me, holding a thin rapier loosely in her right hand, her shoulders slumped.
Maybe this wouldn’t be a difficult fight.
The crone ascended the dais, then turned to face us. Her strangely long, white teeth gleamed as she grinned. She shrieked into the sky, “Begin the fight!”
I pointed my rapier at the Selkie, and she slowly lifted hers to face mine. I slashed at her blade. The water maiden parried weakly. I tested her again. Again, she halfheartedly deflected my blade.
“What are you doing?” I asked in a low voice.
“Just beat me,” she hissed quietly. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I just want to go home.”
I circled her. “Then why are you bothering with any of this? Why did you sound like you were annoyed the crowd was cheering my name?”
“It’s not about the king. I don’t even like males. But our clans demand success.” She backed away from me. “It’s a point of honor among us. That’s all this is. You’d understand if you were from here.”
We circled slowly. “Fine. Well, if your honor is at stake, I’ll let you pretend to get a good shot in first.”
Her features relaxed immediately. “Really?”
“Go. Just don’t make it hurt.”
She stabbed at me. I parried her blade with ease, but pretended that it was more difficult.
“Good one,” I whispered. “Now do another.”
Again, she stabbed, and again, I parried. After a few more gentle, back-and-forths, I sensed the crowd was growing bored. Some of them started chanting at us to fight.
Our match didn’t have the visceral drama of Moria and Cleena, and I wasn’t quite sure it looked real.
“Are you ready?” I asked. “I’m going to have to draw some blood.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
I sliced at her thigh where her armor didn’t protect her, a superficial cut, but enough to spill blood onto the snow.
“Ow!”
“Sorry,” I whispered back.
At that point, whispering wasn’t even necessary. The sight of blood had the crowd roaring with excitement, drowning out anything we might say.
“A blow for Ava Jones!” the crone screamed.
“You, okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “That wasn’t too bad. Just get this over with, okay?”
I slashed again. This time, I scratched her right wrist with the very tip of my blade. The crowd roared.
“All right,” I said. “Are you ready for the final blow?”
The water maiden nodded, but she looked like she was about to cry.
“What’s the problem?” I hissed.
“This will look like a failure for me. I’ll be letting down the clan of the Selkie.”
The crowd was chanting my name, but I ignored them.
“Get in another blow, then.”
The Selkie smiled at me, her brown eyes gleaming. I circled her, and this time, when Eliza struck, I let the very tip of her blade slash through my left bicep. My blood dripped onto the ice. It hurt like hell, but I’d recover.
She grinned at me, victorious.
And now, I desperately wanted to end this fight for good. I slashed a third and final time, cutting through her thigh.
Her smile faded, and she clutched her leg as the crowd roared.
The crone lifted up her arms, her expression exuberant. “Three successful attacks for Ava Jones! She has won the round.”
Dizzy, I turned to see the cameras closing in, and I clutched my arm, trying to stop the bleeding. I hadn’t even noticed the cameras during the fight, and now they seemed intrusive.
I wanted to crawl away and let my bicep heal—alone. But the tournament wasn’t over. Not even for the day.
“The tournament demands we continue until we have a winner. Cleena has announced that she has resigned from the tournament.” The crone’s voice floated over the amphitheater. “Princess Moria of the Dearg Due will now fight against Sydoc of the Redcap.”
In the tunnel, I closed my eyes, relieved to get a moment of rest. I held tight to my shoulder, though I wasn’t sure it was bleeding anymore.
I leaned against the wall, trying to forget what I’d just witnessed.
Shalini stared at me. “Did you fucking see that?”
“I told you what the fae were like, Shalini,” I hissed. “You’re the one who wanted me to come here.”
“Okay, I was wrong. I fully admit that. I didn’t know it would be this bad. The fae are very secretive.”
I took a deep breath. “Torin wants me to win,” I whispered. “You saw how he stopped Moria before. He can do it again.”
“He didn’t stop Sydoc.”
In a daze, I watched as Sydoc took on Moria, Etain’s blood still streaking down the Redcap’s face. But Moria wasn’t as easy to beat as Etain had been, and their swords clashed in the bright sun, the sound ringing out over the amphitheater.
I heard the sound of gentle footfalls behind me and turned to see Orla approaching me. “You’re hurt,” she said quietly. Her pale, milky eyes were half lidded.
“At least I’m alive.”
“You won’t be for long, Ava,” said Orla. “I can hear the blades. You need to know that Princess Moria has a glamoured sword. It’s how she’s winning so easily.”
“She is? How could you possibly tell that?”
“Her blade is enchanted. By my best guess, it’s about three inches in front of where her opponents perceive it to be.”
I stared at her. “Isn’t that cheating?”
She shrugged. “Magic is allowed. But I want you to look out for it.”
“How do you know this?” I asked.
“Because I can hear the blades. And whenever anyone parries Moria’s blade, they’re always late.”
“How do you know it’s three inches?”
Orla sighed. “Every High Fae has a magical strength. You’ll just have to trust me on this.”
“Okay.”
“You need to be at full strength for the fight against Moria.” She reached up to touch my face, and soothing magic trickled from her palm like warm rain.
She pulled her hand away. “Your arm is healed. But I wanted to give you something to keep you safe during your next match.”
I inhaled, watching as she pulled a silver chain from her pocket. At the bottom of the chain hung a charm, a stag’s head with emerald eyes.
“It has been in the royal family since King Finvarra reigned,” she said. “And it has always had the power to protect us from enemies of the king. When the monsters were going to cut off the king’s head, they fell dead instead. I always regretted that my parents were not wearing it when the monsters came for them.”
I stared at it, entranced. But when I reached out to put it on, I gasped and yanked my hand back. I stared down at my fingers. They were blistered, like I’d been burned. I cursed under my breath. “Is this because Torin doesn’t like me?”
She shook her head, and her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. Torin wanted me to give it to you. He wants you to win.”
I pressed my burned hand against the icy stone wall to cool it. “I think I get it.”
He wanted me to win because he didn’t like me. I was the king’s enemy, and he’d made it more than clear to me that he wanted me to stay away from him.
“Ava!” Shalini called out from beside me, and I turned back to the arena.
Sydoc had lost her sword and was scrambling for it on the frozen stones. She slid over the ice on her hands and knees, but Moria struck one swift blow to the back of Sydoc’s neck and severed the Redcap’s head from her body.
The breath left my lungs.
I was next.
