Page 38 of The Shadow Heir

“I mean it,” I said, turning away from her doubtful expression. “They don’t want to come outside in the daylight, which means they’ll have other weaknesses. I will find them. And with each weakness I find, I’ll gain more power to fight them. Two can play this game.”

“So you plan to use their weakness to defeat them?” She folded her arms across her thin frame. “Sounds too familiar.”

I wheezed as those words hit me like a punch. “They’re immortal, Ivy. It’s not like I can kill them. But maybe I can learn something that will keep me alive.”

“‘Maybe I canlearn somethingisn’t a solid survival plan, Zara.”

My lips twitched at her stance and tone. She reminded me so much of Talia, calling out my ludicrous notions. “Fine. You’re right. It’s a terrible plan. So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to see for myself what’s in those tunnels.” I held up a finger to silence Ivy’s sputtered protests. “Because they can’tkill meoutside of a trial.” Her face lit up. “And if I find where they keep their monsters, maybe I can also discover how to defeat them. I don’t know, bring the tigers some meat from my next dinner or something.” I shrugged, and Ivy covered a surprised chuckle with her hands.

“You’re crazy,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“Well, I’m not going to die. I refuse.”

Ivy chuckled, but her excitement quickly petered out. “I’ll do my best to help you when the trial arrives. Until then, my best advice is to stay as far from the fae as you can.”

She turned and slipped through the door.

“The trouble with that,” I said once the heavy door had shut behind her, “is that in combat, you need to know where to strike.” My weapons instructor had taught me that.

And before I could change my mind, I turned back toward the arena and hurried down the sunlit steps.

16

Zara

At the tunnel entrance, I paused, inhaled deeply, and imagined myself soaking the sunlight into my veins. It was freezing on the exposed mountainside, but in the bowl of the arena, protected from the wind, it was almost warm with sunlight touching the sandy space. If this weren’t a place designed to torture me, I could stay here all day.

But if I had any hopes of surviving this year, I needed an advantage. To my dismay, my combat skills likely wouldn’t prove as advantageous as I’d hoped, considering they did little good in a race against tigers. To beat these immortals, I needed to know what they craved. Power—I couldn’t offer them anything in this department. Escape from their miserable reality—I’d done it in my first performance by surprising them. And I’d do it again.

I stepped into the tunnel, and cold air washed over me. A prickle of fear almost turned my feet back toward the sunny arena floor, but I pressed further into the shadowy space. If they couldn’t kill me outside of a trial, I was safe.

My shoes were full of sand, so I slipped them off once again and held them at my side. A shoe could always make a decent weapon in time of need, especially one with a hard sole, like a flamenco shoe. The dress rustled more than I’d like, but otherwise, I moved quietly down the tunnel, deeper into the mountain. Once my eyes adjusted, the sunlight behind me provided plenty of light to see. The tunnel here was rough-cut, unlike the smooth palace halls. The floor transitioned from sand to cold stone.

Less than a minute down the tunnel, the narrow walkway opened up into a small cavern, this one partly natural and partly cut to extend the space outward. Stairs had been carved into the sloping cavern floor. A tiny pinprick of natural light fell from an opening in the ceiling to the stone below, where streaks of pale sand dusted the open space. Along the opposite wall, more tunnels cut into the rock, each capped with a massive iron gate.

The far-left gate stood ajar.

Tiptoeing across the open space, I imagined my heartbeat echoing against the stone, filling the space with thunderous sound, but as I neared the open door, small noises issued from within. I leaned against the wall beside the door and listened.

Snuffling and the friendly snarl of a dog tugging on a toy were accompanied by intermittent laughter.

“Here, boy.” The deep voice was much closer than I’d first thought.

Clicking claws on stone raced toward me. I plastered myself against the uneven wall as the happy snarls turned to ferocious, wicked sounds.

A huge black dog with blood-red eyes and a scar across his long snout burst through the door and turned on me, baring its fangs. His shoulders were as tall as my waist, and the hair raised on his hackles made him appear even larger.

A second later, Casimiro stepped through the door, holding something in his hand.

“Diego! Down!” he shouted.

The dog dropped to its belly on the stone, its jaws clamped shut. A low growl still emitted from its throat as it stared up at me.

I flicked one wide-eyed glance at the prince, then pinned my gaze back on the monstrous dog. It was adip, an actual hellhound. As a child, I’d always thought they were make-believe. I could fathom dragons quicker than a blood-sucking dip.

As Casimiro moved into the open space, I saw what he carried: a small piece of rope, frayed at one end and covered with slobber. He tossed the rope at the monster’s feet, and the animal’s tail actually wagged as it opened its massive jaws to gnaw on its toy.

“Impossible,” I said, unsure if the word had slipped out of my mouth or if I’d only muttered it in my head.

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