Page 168 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

“Yes, my love.” I resist the urge to remind him that his Saur’goth soldiers stormed the streets, banging on doors and demanding that people attend the competition tonight or face the penalty of death.

The slightest breath grazes my cheek, drawing my attention to the vacant seat beside me, then up to the black and gold banners above, the heavy brocade flapping with a cool wind.

“Who are you?” I whisper, searching the emptiness with a probing thread of Vin’nyla. Still, it touches nothing, but I know someone is there.

“Who are you speaking to?” Malachi asks.

“Hmm?” I force a giggle as I turn to him. “Oh, just myself.”

He reaches over and collects my hand in his, kissing the back of it.

It’s in these fleeting moments that I can almost forget who I’m really speaking to, when I can imagine that I’m with my Elijah again and all is well. “I miss you so much.” It slips out.

He frowns curiously. “But I am right here.”

Not you.

I smile. “Of course you are.”

“I suppose it is time to begin.” Releasing my hand, he stands and moves to the edge of the royal partition, high above the crowd, and waits. A guard blows a horn and a deathly silence falls over the arena.

“Citizens of Islor! Behold, your king who has brought you peace and prosperity!” He holds his arms out wide, presenting himself to them like a puffed peacock. With a wave of his hand, the Saur’goths usher dozens of mortals through a gate at sword point and into the center of the arena. Men, women, children. The young and the old. Entire families. “These mortals wish to be free of their keepers’ rule! So we will free them.”

Another set of doors opens beneath us. I lean forward and my stomach drops as they carry the cage with the hunched daaknar within it.

Gasps erupt.

Including mine, as I realize his plan. “You cannot.”

“I can, and I will.” There’s a dangerous edge to his voice. He regards the faces in the stadium. “The spark of rebellion must be extinguished before it has a chance to catch. These are all dangerous sparks.”

I take in the huddle of mortals, the terror in their eyes, how the children cling to their mothers’ gowns. My heart has never particularly bled for these creatures who hunted my kind and made me hide in the shadows, but I look upon them now as one might look upon defenseless puppies. My chest tightens with dread at what we are about to witness.

The Saur’goths have all backed away, lining the perimeter of the arena.

Malachi turns to regard me. “Open the cage.”

I hesitate.

“Open it!” he roars, his fury crackling in the air, the two words echoing through the arena.

Forgive me. I shoot a stream of Vin’nyla, striking the latch. The door swings open with an eerie creak and the daaknar eases out, pulling itself up to its full height with a growl.

The women and children begin to cry. The men usher them to their backs, as if that will help.

But it won’t. Nothing will.

I close my eyes.

“Watch.”

“I cannot—” My words are cut off by Malachi’s powerful hand clamped over my jaw. He drags me to my feet to stand beside him. “You are their queen. Let them see your crown.”

A boy of maybe twelve cries out, attracting the daaknar’s attention.

“Have mercy on them,” I beg as it lunges.

Wendeline waits by the main doors to the royal garden, exactly where I told her to. “Your Highness.” She bows. “You are pale. Are you feeling ill?”

---