Page 51 of Hallowed Games

Maelor slowed, then stopped. He pulled me back around a corner and set me down gently onto the stones. As he did, a voice rang out from somewhere above. “Traitor!”

Maelor whirled, and I caught a glimpse of a Luminarus with an arrow pointing right at us. The soldier stood on the wall nearby, silvered in the moonlight. We’d been moving so quickly, I hadn’t even noticed him until now.

“Traitor!” the Luminarus said again, and loosed the arrow. Maelor darted forward, and his hand shot into the air to catch it in his fingers. As the archer was nocking another arrow, two other soldiers ran for us, readying their bows.

But Maelor was already rushing for them like death incarnate, a streak of midnight racing up the walls. Shadows whirled around the Luminarus, and he screamed for only a moment before they cut his cries short. The soldier’s head tumbled into the labyrinth, severed with a jagged tear across his throat. I stared at it, my mouth growing dry. I could kill easily with my touch, but something about Maelor’s swift brutality made it feel as if the darkness were about to suck me in.

When I looked up at the wall again, I saw that the two other Luminari were now lying completely still, two horizontal silhouettes under the night sky.

I could hardly breathe. A dark beauty sang in Maelor’s destruction.

I pulled on my leather gloves.

From the wall above, Maelor jumped down onto the cobblestones. Blood spattered his high cheekbones, and his pale eyes pierced the dark.

He nodded at the gate. “Run, now. I’m going to clean up the carnage before someone finds it.”

My heart was a frantic war drum as I ran for the gates, sprinting for the flickering warmth of the torches on the other side. The night air felt cold against my soaking clothes, and I heard the wild howl of a wolf that must have smelled my scent.

Finally, I made it through the stone arches, my breath ragged in my throat. I fell to my hands and knees, the rocky earth biting into my palms.

“Elowen!” Hugo ran to me, lifting me in an awkward hug. His bony arms jabbed into me. “I knew you’d make it.”

I wrapped my damp arms around him. His skin dripped with sweat, and his body shook. From the ground, I surveyed the rest of the crowd over his shoulder. Penitents huddled among the torch-wielding Luminari. And at the far end, the Magister stood eerily still. By his side, the Pater seemed to glow with silver light in his white robes. He wasn’t a vampire, too, was he?

Hugo pulled away from the hug, and he vomited onto the earth, making a horrible retching sound. The poor guy desperately needed more poppy tea.

I glanced over at the others in our alliance. Percival nodded at me with a little smile. Sazia and Godric looked exhausted, leaning against each other. As Hugo released me at last, I caught a glimpse of Lydia standing alone in the darkness. She met my gaze, and my chest unclenched with inexplicable relief. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised she’d made it. Deep down, Lydia was always a relentless survivor.

But out of all the Penitents who’d begun, less than half of us remained. I swallowed hard. I relaxed a little when I caught sight of the teenage boy, hugging himself and staring at the ground.

Still, death hung in the air here at Ruefield Castle.

As a trumpet blared, signaling the end of the trial, one of the Luminari started reading out the names of each Penitent who’d survived. As he did, Sion stalked closer to me. His eyes shone with gold from the shadows, catlike. Standing just in front of me, he clasped his hands before him. He leaned down to whisper, “How exactly did you make out of there after nightfall?”

The deep timbre of Sion’s voice sent a shudder up my nape. “The Archon guided me.”

But for reasons I couldn’t even begin to understand, my savior tonight was a monster, as Serpent-touched as I was.

“Of course he did.” Sarcasm dripped from his whisper.

As Sion stepped away, the Pater Sanctus approached, his eyes locked on me. He wore his cloak open, and the starlight gleamed off his burnished armor, off his silver hair and beard, like he’d stolen the light of the moon itself. As he moved closer, my stomach turned.

“No one survives after nightfall.” His voice had a haunted tone, like the dead lived in him. And he spoke with a distinctly northern accent I hadn’t been expecting.

I’d angered him by surviving. And I knew from the Baron not to open my mouth when I’d angered a powerful man.

He gripped my chin tightly, lifting it like he was about to crush it. “No one survives after nightfall.”

All I had to do was pull off my gloves and touch his face.

“I’ll take care of her.” With a dark smile, Sion wrapped his hand around my neck, lifting me into the air. He was crushing my throat, and I kicked him hard in his stomach.

It felt like my boot was meeting a brick wall. Sion threw me to the ground, and I landed on my hands and knees.

“Witch!” My head whipped up, and I caught the tattooed man smirking at me. “She drained those bodies, didn’t she?”

I started to push myself up, and Sion gripped me by the bicep, jerking me from the ground. “Come on, little witch. We have some things to discuss, starting with where the fuck is your cloak?”

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