Page 3 of A Reign of Storm and Madness

It’ll be fine, I tell myself. I’ve dealt with something similar in the past. Worse, probably—all for the sake of training, to ensure that even if I am, somehow, found out, I’ll never give up all the lives in the Underworld. One sacrifice for the lives of many. I repeat it in my head. Over and over again until a rather helpful part of my mind reminds me that this isn’t even like Ophelia’s punishments. Those lasted for hours, days—I honestly can’t remember. They blur together. This will just be one punishment with limited hits. A piece of cake.

Even as I try to convince myself of the ease with which I’ll handle this, I still reach up and pluck the vial off my leather band and hold it in my palm as if it’s some sort of sacred artifact of old meant to ward off bad spirits. The cell door hangs open, and I hold the poison in my grip as the guard motions me forward.

“Come on,” he snaps. “Don’t make me come in after you.”

The urge to bite back at him rides me hard, especially as anticipatory nervousness clogs my throat. If I’m already considered an impertinent Terra … but, no. I can’t act any more rebellious than I already have. At least, not in front of those who would definitely run to Dolos at the first opportunity. For the sake of appearances, I will be cowed. I will be subservient. Just for today.

Still, the guard’s annoyed tone makes me contemplate shoving the Belladonna down his throat and seeing what happens. I want to—badly—but I don’t. Subservient Terra don’t kill their guards, I remind myself.

I stride out of the cell and turn towards the man, gritting my teeth as he huffs a breath. It must be so damn hard to come down here and drag a girl who’s been starving in the dark for three days to the arena. He takes my hands, not bothering to force me to open my fists as he clamps the iron cuffs around my wrists in front of my body. I roll my eyes.

He doesn’t notice.

“Come,” he grumbles, clearly not happy at having been the one given this task. He doesn’t say anything more and doesn’t wait to see what I’ll do as he makes his way back to the stairs and ascends to the upper floors. His ego is stifling. It’s as if it doesn’t even occur to him that I could fight back much less that I would were I not meant to stay here after this punishment and await my orders.

Freedom, I remind myself. True freedom. That’s what I’m doing this for. That’s what I’m staying for, suffering for. Once my contract has been paid back to Ophelia and the Underworld, the brimstone in my neck will be removed and I can go home. The word echoes in my head with a longing I’ve shoved down for so long that the fresh wave of nostalgia and loss hits me like a ton of bricks.

Once this is all over, I can actually make a home and I never have to answer to anyone else again, be tied down or ordered by anyone else. I can just exist—free from the Gods’ prying eyes and safe in the Hinterlands. The force of that desire hits me like a storm, but I don’t let it wash me away. No. I hold on as it rocks through me. I let it give me strength as I trail the guard up the stairs and into the morning sun.

It’s not even that bright, but I’ve been in the darkness for so long that it blinds me. I duck my head, using the guard’s broad back to block out most of its direct rays, and keep walking. My feet trudge across the stone floors and the farther we go, the more recognizable the Academy’s surroundings get.

I spot the familiar buildings and stone archways that lead toward the Terra quarters for bathing or eating and the ones that lead to the forbidden gardens and courtyards. Another eye roll overtakes me, hidden from the guard since he hasn’t paused once to look behind him. I’m cuffed, but there’s not even a chain leading from the cuffs to his grip. He just walks along as if he expects that I’ll do what’s expected of me. And … well, he has a point. I am following him after all.

Still, this is all so ridiculous. The lashings. The imprisonment. All of it, over pettiness and rules meant to showcase who’s in charge. I resent the tightness that takes over my muscles, bunching my spine and spilling down my legs and arms as I keep walking.

The guard leads me out of the lower levels and the residential areas. Finally, we arrive back to the place where several Mortal Gods died not but a few days ago. I follow him down a long, darkened tunnel, sighing with relief at the muted light despite what I know waits for me at the open end on the far side.

We enter the arena and when I half expect there to be cries and cheers, I hear only stone-cold silence. I tilt my head up, confused, thinking perhaps they hadn’t yet called the Academy to witness my punishment. They’re there though. Students. Staff. Faculty. All of them sit in the stands in much the same way as they had several days ago for the Advancement Battles. There are a few icy smiles, cruel eyes glittering in amusement, and some that are straight-up passing coins back and forth—betting on how long I’ll last or even if I’ll die here today, no doubt.

Ahead, at the very end of the arena, in the curve on the farthest side, I spot three familiar faces. My muscles tighten all over again, this time for a different reason. Rage and resentment and something else I can’t name swarm my insides, ripping into me like creatures from the darkest depths of the ocean—the kind that lure sailors and others into their waters before dragging them beneath the sea’s surface to feast upon their flesh and bones.

The three of them are standing rather than sitting and watching me with a mixture of expressions. Theos looks distressed, his brows tight and his lips drawn down. When he catches my gaze, he leans forward as if on instinct. Shit. I look away immediately. Bad fucking idea—it’d been such a bad idea to give in to him that night.

The next face I spot is Kalix. Unlike Theos’, his expression is wholly unreadable. His green eyes are like frozen moss. There’s no warmth and no light within them. As he watches me, his pupils thin and lengthen like slits rather than the rounded pupil of a mortal. I blink and his pupils are back to normal.

Finally, there’s Ruen. Ruen fucking Darkhaven. My academy master and my betrayer. His hands are cupped over the lip of the railing that separates the stands from the arena several feet lower. He looks … pained. Sweat dots his brow and his face is slightly reddened. I scan him, wondering what the fuck … blood. I spot it, just a few droplets of it on his throat, further back and almost unnoticeable. Had he fought with Theos? I swap my gaze back to the Darkhaven in question, but he’s not even looking at his brother. No? What the—

I don’t get a chance to finish that thought as the morning sun glints off something metal in the center of the arena as we approach. My attention snaps back to what’s in front of me.

Twin chains embedded into the hard, half-frozen ground greet me. My heart begins thundering within my breast. Sweat beads pop up along my spine. So many eyes. Too many eyes. All watching me. Their twisted lips and poorly hidden bets slither under my skin, an awareness I wish I didn’t have.

At least not everyone is out for my blood today. I have to contend with that. Ruen had seemed guilty when he’d seen me three days ago; hopefully he hurts watching me just as much as I’ll hurt taking these lashes. Gods, I hope the knowledge that he did this rips him apart because I know that no matter how hard I’ll try, I won’t be able to act subservient to him after this. I’m an assassin, not a Gods-damned actress. I’d never been meant for long-term missions like this and it’s a miracle I haven’t outed myself yet.

If this is a test from Ophelia, then I’m sorely failing it.

The guard strides for the place marked with an X that looks to be carved with sticks or the blunt end of a sword between those two chains. I pause as I spot a dark-haired Terra dressed in a dirty cream-colored tunic and brown trousers quickly scraping away what looks like congealed blood in the dirt and sand mixture that covers the floor of the fighting arena.

The chains draw my eyes again. There is a solid length of several feet on either side, each ending with cuffs splattered with that same blood that the Terra is now hurrying to finish raking away with a long wooden handle that boasts several metal tongs on one end digging into the dirt.

Now is the time, I decide, cupping my hands together. The pads of my thumbs press against the little cork holding the vial closed and it slips free, sliding into the dirt and sand at my feet. I step over it and keep going before placing my fists to my lower face so that it looks like I’m praying. Maybe I am, but it’s not to any God. I part my lips and tilt my head back. I swallow the vile purple liquid, the Belladonna tasting of the ground and sweet berries.

I press a purple-coated kiss to my knuckle and raise my hands toward the sky to hide what I’ve done. The guard in front of me pauses and looks back, and I lower my hands shakily to my front once more. Within seconds, I can feel the Belladonna’s effects. My Divine Blood tries to fight it. I know it does because I sway on my feet slightly as both collide within me.

Dizziness assails me as the guard reaches for my bound hands and uncuffs them. The iron circlets fall to my feet, lifting up a cloud of dust against my worn boots. His wide fingers encircle my wrists and drag me, and I stumble forward. Once we’re in place between the lines of the chains set in the center of the arena, he doesn’t wait, stripping my cloak from me and tossing it to … a new Terra that approaches, I realize as I turn my head and catch sight of a familiar face.

My cloak lands against Niall’s chest with a thump. He’s pale and trembling. His hair hangs in long shaggy brown strings around his soft cheeks and rounded forehead as if he’s been running his fingers through the strands all morning. I try to muster up a smile but that only makes him catch his breath as tears fill his eyes. The guard sets about his task of clamping a new cuff on each of my wrists, separating my arms, and pulling them out at my sides tight until I can feel the burn in my ligaments.

My breathing quickens and I swallow against a suddenly dry mouth. Chains. Restrictions. I hate them. I breathe heavily through my teeth. In and out. In and fucking out. I can handle this. I have handled this, I tell myself. I’ve been through so much worse. This is nothing.

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