Page 35 of Hallowed Games

“All I can do is advise that you should get as close to the entrance at the start as possible. Whatever happens, you absolutely have to get out by nightfall.”

I nodded. “Okay. I’ll get to the front.”

“But not the very front. You need others to test the traps for you. Otherwise, move as quickly as possible. There are a number of exits, but they’re very hard to find, and they always change.” He closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead. “You won’t have any weapons unless you can make them in the labyrinth. No one is allowed to use magic.”

Even if he was helping me, he was still the enemy, and I could never forget it. In the warmth of the fireplace, he pushed up the sleeves of his black robe. My gaze traced over his forearms—muscled and deeply scarred on his left arm.

“Were you a soldier?” I asked.

He looked at me with surprise. “A long time ago.”

“In the Harrowing?”

Instead of answering, he stared into the fire. Shadows jumped and slid over his forearms. I glanced at the scar again, wondering what it would be like to be one of those shadows moving over him. I found myself reaching out to brush the tip of my finger over his arm. Maybe I wished I could hurt him with my touch.

He inhaled sharply, like I’d shocked him, and I pulled my hand away.

“Did that hurt?” I asked.

He shook his head, his blue eyes gleaming with curiosity. “No.”

“That’s a shame.”

A smile ghosted over his lips. The way Maelor reacted to me told me that he didn’t spend much time with people.

But of course he didn’t. Everyone was terrified of the Raven Lord, and for good reason.

I bit my lip, staring at the bare skin of his arms. As he watched me, I brushed my fingertips over his wrist, and his muscles tensed. My gaze met his again. I felt as if an electric current were moving between my fingertips and his skin.

“Do you feel anything?” I asked.

“Oh, yes.” He looked as if he were drinking me in.

The lord was as starved of touch as I was. But he was also a commander of the Order, an instrument of violence and utter destruction. A beautiful man forbidden from enjoying anything—and my enemy.

So why not torture him a little? Why not make him hate himself?

As he watched me, I reached up for his face and stroked his cheek. His eyes closed, and he let out a long sigh that sounded agonized. I brushed my thumb over his high cheekbone. “You still don’t feel my magic?”

His skin felt smooth as marble. With his eyes closed, he murmured, “It’s a different sort of pain.” When he opened his eyes again, he pulled my hand away sharply. “Don’t.”

It was just as the Baron had taught me—find and exploit the weaknesses of your enemies. I wondered exactly how much it would take for him to lose control completely and betray his precious Order. If he didn’t feel repentant for killing the innocent, maybe another sort of guilt could torment him.

He stood. “You should sleep, Elowen. You can take my bed.” A line formed between his eyebrows. “That gold looks nice around your eyes.”

I hated that a blush spread over my cheeks as he said that.

I lifted the pencil. “I found your art supplies. This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You can keep it, then.”

Gifts from the Raven Lord. Was he warming to me already? I arched an eyebrow. “You won’t join me in your bed?”

His jaw tensed. “I don’t sleep much.”

I sighed. “Of course you don’t sleep much, because sleeping is enjoyable, and the Archon hates all pleasure.” It no longer mattered if I let sacrilege tumble from my lips. What did I have to lose at this point? Maybe as I faced almost certain death, I had a little bit of freedom. But mostly, all I felt was exhaustion sinking into my bones. “If I survive the labyrinth, how much time will there be to rest before the next trial?”

“You’ll have one day to recover. After the first trial, the survivors will spend time in the whispering chambers, unburdening yourselves to prepare for the next one.”

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