Page 67 of Dance of the Phoenix
Of course, the fact that Ragnor had decided to let his members choose their participants didn’t mean that Atalon did the same. I had a miserable hunch that Atalon had brought them here for one reason only.
To show me who was really in control here.
I didn’t want to end up facing any of them. I didn’t want to kill them.
But even if I didn’t, someone else would. Because this was the Hecatomb, and while surrender was an option other than death, in reality, it really wasn’t.
Someone tapped my shoulder and slowly, as if through a dream, I turned around to see Ragnor sitting right behind me. He must’veswitched places without me noticing, since I was still reeling from the shock of finding out who was going to face us, and probably die in the process.
“What’s wrong?” he asked in a murmur, leaning forward so his voice would reach only me.
I parted my lips, but no sound came out. I couldn’t speak. I had nothing to say. Too many things were wrong with what was going on here. Where could I even begin?
Whatever he saw on my face made him grimace. “Atalon is going to pull all kinds of tricks while the Hecatomb is underway,” he told me quietly, guessing correctly what was on my mind, as the music of the intermission slowly faded, indicating its pending end. “Don’t let it get to you. Don’t get distracted. You can’t afford to be.”
I gave him a jerky nod that meant basically nothing. Don’t let it get to me? How?
Isora appeared next to Ragnor. “My Lord,” she said quietly, her face pale, which made her blue eyes paler than usual. “Three of the people on Atalon’s team were the newcomers bought with Aileen and me in the Auction.”
Ragnor’s face darkened. “I see,” he said, before turning to me. “It doesn’t surprise me that he would do something like that. Still,” he added, jaw hard, “my words stand.”
He nodded to Isora before rising to his feet, walking back to his designated seat.
Isora gave me a grave look. “You have to protect yourself first and foremost,” she told me, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t try to be a martyr, Aileen.”
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, it is time to decide which pairs are going to fight to the death tomorrow!”
Renaldi’s disgustingly cheery voice brought my attention back to the arena. The dancers were gone, and the floor was taken by Renaldi and his Lieutenants, along with a large, round object that held a few notes. It looked like those lottery machines used on TV.
“Let’s start, shall we?” Renaldi grinned from ear to ear, his face spread across the arena’s screens as he relished the situation, as if it was all a mere game.
When Renaldi played the lottery orb, I felt Logan tensing next to me. Zoey, on my other side, went very still too.
“Drumroll, please!” Renaldi called with a flick of his fingers, and a dramatic drumroll played in the arena, reaching a stop in the crescendo when he pulled a note out of the orb. As he cleared his throat, his grin widened, and I almost felt as if he was looking in my direction when he said, “Logan Kazar and Aileen Henderson! Let’s see who they are against, shall we?”
My heart beat so loud, I didn’t even hear the second drumroll until Renaldi pulled out a second note and made my heart stop.
“Eleanor Simmons and Jebediah Ackerman!”
“This has to be rigged,” I said, pacing back and forth in our League dorms’ lounge. “There’s no other explanation as to why I’m going to face Eleanor out of all the Atalon League participants. My luck is shitty, but it can’t bethatshitty.”
Isora, who was sitting miserably on the sofa, watched me with tears in her eyes. “You know,” she said quietly, voice shaking, “I thought that after Renaldi, no other Lord could be as cruel. And yet Atalon seems to contend for the grade A asshole spot.”
I stopped my pacing and buried my face in my hands, taking a deep breath. “I have to come up with a plan,” I said, mind reeling. “I ... I can’t kill her, Isora. I’ll have to ... to surrender, or—”
“No, Aileen,” Isora cut me off, angry. “You arenotgoing to surrender—”
“Then what do you want me to do?!” I snapped, seething. “What the fuck should I do, Isora? Kill yet another innocent person with my own fucking bare hands? Is that what you’re suggesting?”
Isora clamped her mouth shut and looked away, tears trickling down her face.
A door opened, and I saw Logan coming out, wearing sweatpants and a tank top similar to mine. He watched me and Isora, as we were the only ones currently in the lounge, and seemed taken aback. But then he said, “It’s time for our training.”
Of course we had to train, since tomorrow was the day we’d been preparing for. But what a day would it be, if I ended up killing a friend?
“Yeah,” I said bitterly, “let’s go train.”
The arena’s training rooms were not far from our dorms. They were smaller than the ones at the Rayne League and were obviously not designed for long-term training sessions.
