Page 36 of Bonded to the Fallen Shadow King

Quen’s fire licked over my side as she aimed high, burning through the breach. "Somebody block the gap!" she screamed.

Yuki crushed three beetles with a slab of rock, then threw it toward a centipede crawling over the edge and jammed the rock against the quill. The rock cracked into pieces the right size to fill the space and push the quill out.

Screams rose across all the circles. The other teams were under siege too.

A manticore struck our shield hard enough to send another crack rattling across the top. The circle shook as the shield waved like glass about to shatter.

Another swooped in, mouth wide open and creepy-ass old man eyes fixed on us. My heart skipped a beat as Thalira’s deep blue whip lashed again. She made contact—but she didn’t let go in time. The creature jerked her off her feet, and its claws snatched her through the shield opening.

She screamed, hands scrabbling to find hold.

No. Not one of our own.

I surged forward and closed my teeth around her tunic. I pulled hard, trying to drag her back against the momentum. Her legs hit the floor, but the whip yanked taut again.

That wasn’t going to work. I had to think of something else. Ears ringing, I released her and locked on the thick, water-woven strand. My teeth sank into the water, and I bit down hard. The water actually had resistance. Thalira yanked forward and so did I... and then my teeth cut through the stream, and it snapped and vanished in a splash.

We landed hard together.

Thalira gasped, chest heaving, arms curled tight to her ribs. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. We were still alive—for now. But how much longer could we make it? We were all flagging.

A thunderousthudstruck the shield’s left side. The platform groaned, and another spiderweb fracture bloomed outward from a thick black quill. The shard had punched through, and hope vanished, making me feel hollow. My ears pinned flat as an unnatural clicking echoed in my skull.

Then came the hiss. Not from a single creature, but from hundreds. The shield split wider, and a flood of centipedes, spiders, and things I didn’t recognize poured through the opening. Limbs flailed. Screams tore through the air as the swarm invaded, biting and stinging with frenzied glee. Magic lit the space in bursts—wind gusts, water lashes, and fire arcs—but there were too many.

From the other platforms, more cries rang out, blending with ours. A chorus of pain and terror. I backed toward the center, snapping at a wolf-sized beetle trying to climb the ledge. Quen crushed one with a column of fire, and Yuki raised slabs of stone to block another, only for it to crawl up and over. The shield’s protection meant nothing now.

Thalira shouted something as another manticore swooped low and caught the end of her water whip. She tried to pull back, but it yanked her forward, her feet skidding once again, sliding into the mass of insects. This time I couldn’t reach her in all the chaos.

The gong rang.

The sound cut through everything—scraping claws, shouts, magic bursts—and all at once, the creatures stopped.

The silence was deafening, and several women began crying.

Still, I didn’t trust these assholes and crouched, preparing for yet another surprise.

The swarm scattered, vanishing into cracks and slithering back into shadows. The manticores beat their wings, ascending as one, and disappeared into the dark ceiling. When I looked up, they were there, hanging like monstrous bats, relaxed and silent.

Stillness clung to the air. The shields dissolved into shimmering light. The golden glow of the arena returned, casting the whole place in a sickly kind of calm. The bodies, the blood, even the piles of corpses—gone. Just vanished, like none of it had happened… like none of it mattered.

Once again, bile inched up my throat. None of the fae appreciated life, and they didn’t seem to mourn the dead. How barbaric.

The elderly council member in a dark gray robe stepped forward. "Survivors," he called, his voice amplified. “Step forward. Come stand before the Council.”

Breathing ragged, I padded forward to where the others were gathering, the sharp tang of blood still clinging to my tongue. I throbbed with fatigue, fur matted and heavy. The observers platform hovered above us.

Kaylen was among the last to join the survivors. Her once-flawless braid was half undone, and her leathers torn. She lifted her chin and glared up at the observation platform, ichor streaked across her face.

“Who won?” Her voice cracked.

The old man peered down, tilting his hooded head. "Is your heart still beating?"

Kaylen blinked. “Yes.”

"Then you won. If your heart is still beating, you live to continue fighting for the prince’s hand."

A few of the contestants laughed, but not all.

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