Page 70 of Dance of the Phoenix
“I heard from Magnus that our Lord is preparing for his own battle.” Logan’s voice drew my eyes to him. He watched me carefully, his turquoise eyes almost sympathetic. “You might not see him before our battle.”
Knots filled my stomach. “But Ra—our Lord doesn’t need to prepare,” I said, frowning. “He’stheRagnor Rayne, after all. He can take Atalon in his sleep.”
Logan shrugged. “Perhaps he doesn’t want to take any chances.”
Great. Now I had more anxiety than before. Because Ragnor, while cautious, was never paranoid. That didn’t sound like him.
The crowd suddenly cheered and whistled, and I turned my gaze to the arena, where Renaldi walked in, wearing an actual Greek white toga with a leaf band around his head, with his Lieutenants. It did nothing to soften his overly muscular body.
“Welcome, vampires, to the official battle day!” he now called into the mic, spreading his arms theatrically.
The cheers were deafening. My anxiety loomed over me, growing worse with every passing minute.
“Soon you’ll watch the Leagues battling it out!” Renaldi said with a wild smile. “The order of the battle is now on the screen!”
Seeing my name and Eleanor’s in the same line made me want to empty my stomach.
Logan suddenly took my hand and squeezed. I looked at him and saw he was still staring at the arena, at Renaldi. “We’re in this together, Aileen.”
His words warmed me so much that tears welled in my eyes. I would’ve never thought I’d hear such words from Logan, of all people. The man I’d hurt so much in the past, both physically and mentally. And he was able to get over it to be there for me.
“Thank you,” I whispered back, wiping the tears from my eyes. “Thank you, Logan.”
He kept holding my hand throughout Renaldi’s entire opening speech.
Logan and I were led to the waiting room by one of the butlers while a dancing intermission took over the arena to entertain the onlookers before the battles.
Much like the design of the arena’s corridors and rooms, the waiting room was also decorated in a Gothic style, with candles hung on black walls and extravagant sofas that seemed to belong in the Palace of Versailles. They were plush and comfortable, though.
As Logan and I waited silently in the room, the door opened and both of us turned to look as Ragnor walked inside.
My heart skipped a beat, though not because I hadn’t seen him since yesterday. Rather, it was his state that took me by surprise:His wavy dark-brown hair was disheveled, his midnight blues were bloodshot and sunken with lack of sleep, and his face was grave, with a growing scruff, as though he’d forgotten to shave.
He seemed as if he’d aged, which was biologically impossible, considering he was a vampire.
His eyes found me, and there was a flash of something in them I couldn’t quite decipher. In less than a second, he was in front of me, grabbing me into a tight bear hug, his face buried in the nook of my neck.
“Aileen,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “Aileen ...”
Dread filled me at his tone. He sounded almost desperate. So un-Ragnor-like. “Hey,” I said softly, hugging him back, startled. “What’s ... what’s wrong?”
He didn’t reply, just hugged me tighter.
We stayed like that for a few long minutes. From beyond Ragnor’s shoulder, I saw Logan looking determinedly at the wall, probably trying to give us some semblance of privacy.
Finally, Ragnor let me go just enough so he could cup my face. “I love you,” he said suddenly, catching me off guard.
My lips parted, wanting to ask what had brought this on now, of all times, but when I saw his eyes and the unreadable look in them that made me feel even more dread than before, all I could say was, “I love you too.”
“Miss Henderson, Mr. Kazar, it’s time.”
Ragnor let me go, and I looked behind him at the butler, who was now at the door, looking at us.
Logan rose to his feet and gave me a nod. I turned to look at Ragnor, whose face now contorted in rage that I knew wasn’t directed at me but made me question who it was directed at. “Good luck,” he said, voice somewhat stifled, before he stepped back and left the room just as abruptly as he appeared.
Feeling uneasy for far too many reasons, I followed the butler out along with Logan, through the corridor, toward the entrance of the arena.
Before he left, the butler told us to wait in the entrance until our names were called. That’s when Logan grabbed my arm, forcing me to look at him, and said with a grim yet determined look, “Whatever that was about, put it in the back of your mind. We have a battle to win now. You can talk to him after.”
