Page 98 of Games of Death and Desire

“You’ll see.” The leader beckons for us to follow him.

I don’t spot any of the other scourge sorcerers when we emerge from the cave, but I suspect they’re somewhere nearby. Braced in case they need to intervene.

The possible Torstem points at two particularly expansive pine trees about twenty paces apart. “Stand by one of the trees marked with the All-Giver’s sigil. You’ll find what you need there.”

Every nerve on edge, I head toward the tree that’s slightly closer to me. As I come up on it, I make out the sigil of the All-Giver etched into its bark—upside down, like Julita mentioned she’s seen it before.

The scourge sorcerers think they can call the Great God back to our level. What more ridiculous hubris could there be?

Any confidenceI’mfeeling drains out of me as I reach the base of the trunk and see the objects waiting for me.

A large wooden bow leans against the tree. A quiver with several arrows lies on the forest floor beside it.

Oh, fuck.

Julita’s presence shifts with obvious agitation.It could still be all right. I don’t know that Benedikt isthatwonderful a shot.

He doesn’t have to be wonderful to best me. I’ve only handled a bow once in my life, and that time I don’t think I clipped a single target.

I pick up the bow, testing its weight, and finally look toward my betrayer. Benedikt is staring right back at me, his hand clenched around his own bow… and a trace of his usual smirk curving his lips.

He was there for the hunt when I showed off my ineptitude at archery. Great God smite him, he must be silently crowing over how easily he’ll beat me.

“You have a minute to prepare yourselves,” the lead man calls out in his magically warbled voice. “You will stay within reach of your tree. Once the trial begins, you will shoot at your opponent until one of you is too injured to continue. But if youkillthem, your victory is forfeit. May the gods guide the one who deserves it.”

As his voice fades from the crisp autumn air, my gut plummets all the way to my feet.

He wants us to destroy each other without killing. Like the mutilated accomplices who sacrifice so much for the scourge sorcerers’ demented cause.

He’s not just testing us against each other but evaluating our willingness to maim for our convictions as well.

My fingers tighten around the bow. I sling the quiver over my shoulder and slide out one of the arrows easily enough.

Across from me, through the mottled shadows cast by the leaves overhead, Benedikt’s smirk has only grown. Curse it all, he doesn’t look the slightest bit guilty about what he intends to do.

He’ll tear me to pieces with his arrows until I’m slumped bleeding on the ground, and then he’ll waltz back to the college to pretend he has no idea how I went missing. He’ll learn all the king’s plans for protection and feed them back to the scourge sorcerers.

Or I could tear him apart and leave him for the conspirators to murder.

Even after everything, I can’t say that I want the man in front of me dead. He can’t bethathorrible, can he, after all the good things he tried to do before?

Just so incredibly misguided.

But faced with his triumphant smile, with the selfish excuses he gave me yesterday echoing in my ears, I can’t say the idea of hurting him makes me feel all that guilty either.

It’s a matter of survival. Me or him. And if he survives, a whole lot of people other than me could die because of it.

The choice should be simple, if not for the power roiling in my chest.

The only way I can win is to use my magic. I don’t stand a chance of hitting him effectively unless it or some divine intervention guides my arrow. And Kosmel has never offered any physical assistance before.

I’ve sworn so many times to keep my riven soul under wraps. The only time I released it on purpose, the city was literally on the verge of crumbling.

What will the cost be this time?

How many times can I use it and still stay sane enough to rein it back in?

How many will die ifIsurvive… and turn more into the monster every riven eventually becomes?

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