Page 57 of A Sword of Shadow and Deceit

Startled, I release it to his grasp and stare in disbelief as he puts the rim to his lips and downs the liquid in a sharp swallow. “Kalix Darkhaven.” The sound of Dolos’ deep baritone echoes across the arena and then a second name. “Deva Carlona.”

“Yes!” Kalix practically leaps from his seat.

Theos squeezes the glass in his hand as it slowly lowers back to his side until the damn thing cracks. “They’ve never switched in the middle of the battles before,” he snaps, turning to glare at Ruen.

Ruen is silent, but from the hard expression on his face, he is just as caught off guard by this sudden turn of events. Kalix shoves people out of his way as he practically crawls over the seats in front of him to make his way to the stairs, bounding down instead of taking the circular route at the top. Once he reaches the very bottom, he grips the tapestry-covered railings and heaves himself up and over, dropping down onto the blood-soaked dirt below.

The Divine Beings across the arena lean forward with interest. “Is there a problem?” I ask the two remaining Darkhavens. “I thought you said you’d all participated in these battles before?”

“We have,” Ruen snaps. “Kalix will be fine—he enjoys them after all—but now that they’ve changed Gods…”

I see his meaning almost immediately. With Dolos now the presiding God, things are likely to take a quick change. “They called on him for a reason,” Theos growls. “Kalix is a monster in the arena. Anyone left to fight will be fighting death battles.”

And Darius has yet to go.

I straighten my back. More and more, I’m finding that these Mortal Gods are little more than better prey for the predators known as Gods. This is all a facade. The Academy is nothing more than a prison for these Divine children. Mortal Gods are just enough of a threat to the Gods for them to take advantage of them. This place is little more than an asylum of pseudo-education. At the top, the Gods reign supreme, and at the bottom, humans are left to pick up the scraps they leave behind.

The noise amidst the stands is deafening as Kalix takes center stage—striding across the ground until he reaches the middle and stops. Dolos maintains the shroud of shadows that keep his ability repressed enough for the rest of us in the arena to watch the proceedings. The one called Deva steps forward—a particularly buff woman, wide all around with a masculine face. Only her name and the slight curve of her breasts as they press against her leather tunic reveal her to be female.

At my side, both Theos and Ruen recline back—unbothered by the fact that their brother is in the arena for a death match. It doesn’t take long to find out why. The battle begins without Kalix holding a single weapon. Instead, he crouches into a stance I find familiar. He should be holding a sword of some sort. Instead, he merely tips his head back and grins at his opponent. A wicked light enters his green eyes, blurring the color as the two begin to circle each other. I’m locked upon him, unable to pull my attention away.

In the crowd, hands exchange paper denza. Cries and demands rise up from both Mortal Gods and Gods alike. Kalix’s green eyes morph, shifting to red and back. Over and over again, as he circles his enemy. For her own part, Deva appears wary of him. Smart. I would be too if a man such as him entered an arena for a death match weaponless and yet still maintained that same confident air about him.

I blink as something out of the corner of my eye moves. I jerk my head to the side, fixating my gaze on the ground at Kalix’s feet. It moves. No, it moves again. That was what had caught my attention. The dirt pushes up and then depresses as if something beneath it is crawling under the surface.

Deva releases a war cry and dives for Kalix, wielding a massive sword that requires two hands just to lift it. Metal glints as the sun shines off the smooth surface of the side of the blade. A ray of light slams into my eyes, and I flinch back, momentarily distracted.

When the sudden light leaves and I return my attention to the field, Kalix has deftly maneuvered out of Deva’s path of destruction. In fact, he’s standing with his hands on his hips, laughing as she screams and whirls about to face him once more. It’s as if he’s a great big animal who’s captured a tiny little mouse and he’s playing with her before he kills her. The brutal delight on his face makes me shudder.

I want to look away, but I can’t. All else blurs around me as I fixate directly on the man standing in the center of everything. And as if he senses my thoughts, Kalix’s head turns ever so slightly and his green eyes meet mine. His lips part and as he smiles, his twin canines extend downward in a way I’ve never seen before. The black of his pupils cut into slits. Just as the ground beneath his feet had moved, something beneath his flesh does as well.

Scales glimmer on his cheek and down his throat. A warning. The last one.

This time as Deva dives for him, Kalix doesn’t move. His arms snap out, both at the same time. One grips her wrist and the other wraps around her thick throat. Without even a second between, Kalix jerks the hand around her wrist down and snaps it cleanly—the break echoing off the stone walls of the arena as the crowd hushes.

Deva screams again, only this scream is filled with pain rather than the rage of battle. It’s ghostly in my ears, vibrating along the inner walls of my head. He’s going to kill her. Even if he had a choice not to, the look in his eyes as he stares back at me tells me he would do it still.

Why? I want to ask him. She’s just like him. A Mortal God. Should they not be on the same side? Should he not at least show some remorse for being forced to end someone else’s life?

I’ve learned to hide my remorse—or at the very least bury it in a place that I can rarely reach. That was by necessity. For Kalix, though, it doesn’t seem to exist at all.

His smirk remains in place as the sword falls from his enemy’s hand. He drops her and as she clutches her broken limb to her chest, Kalix bends down and lifts the heavy broadsword. One hand, a sign of strength. The crowd roars, going wild.

“Damn it,” Theos mutters. “He’s going to end it too soon. The Gods won’t be pleased.”

“He’s too excited,” Ruen agrees.

“Why?” I can’t stop the question even if I wanted to. It makes no sense. Ripping my gaze from the arena, I turn to face them. “Why does he enjoy it so much?”

Theos presses his lips together for a moment. “Why does anyone enjoy anything?” he snaps, a clear non-answer.

“Does it have anything to do with your God parent?” The second I ask the question, I know I’ve made a mistake. Ruen yanks his head to the side and fixes me with a scowl so dark and thunderous that I feel my chest tighten in response—almost as if he’s using an ability similar to that of Dolos.

Before he can say anything, however, Theos reaches over and grabs ahold of his arm. “Don’t,” he warns, “cause a scene.”

With a growl, Ruen rips himself free of Theos’ grip and stands abruptly. He shoves past me and I’m left gaping after him in a mixture of shock and annoyance. Ruen’s stride is short and clipped, but as he stomps off I note several Terra practically tripping over themselves to get out of his way.

Once Ruen is gone, Theos sighs and gestures for me to sit alongside him. I blink and stare at the cushion before dragging my gaze back up and looking around at all of the Terra standing. None are sitting. Theos’ shoulders drop and he fixes me with an irritated look.

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