avoid being killed or trapped. She was still trying to avoid that fate, and along the way, she’d consigned Belias to a similar one. If she could’ve married him and kept her secret, she would’ve. It wasn’t what she was made for, but loving him had almost made her turn her back on the desire to help The City. The hope that maybe he’d understand that she was more than a witch had tempted her — but hope wasn’t enough.
She’d considered having a child, hoping that she could suppress the child’s magic. She’d even implored Evelyn to teach her how. When Evelyn refused, Aya knew it was far better to avoid motherhood, far safer for her and any child to simply avoid the chance of death or enslavement, far better for Belias never to know that she was a witch. She couldn’t condemn her child, so at eighteen — the earliest she could become anyone’s breedmate or wife — she had ended her betrothal to Belias and entered Marchosias’ Competition.
But then Belias had entered too.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” She threw the first knife as she walked into his training room, but he’d expected it. A heavy leather-and-chain vest protected his chest and stomach. His arms were bare, but the vital parts were all protected. Except his face. She launched the second knife, and he dropped to the floor.
“Apparently, I’m dodging your temper, little bird.” Belias picked up her knife.
She started across the floor, scowling at him, when he threw the knife at her. It nicked her upper arm, a slight cut that stung and bled, but it wouldn’t incapacitate her. She smiled and looked at her torn, bloodied sleeve. “Your aim gets worse every time you do that.”
He snorted. “Not likely. My willingness to injure you is all that’s changed, and you know it.”
Rather than acknowledge that truth, Aya bent and picked up her knife. While her expression was hidden, she said, “I didn’t expect you to enter the competition.”
“Do you want me to withdraw?”
Aya straightened. “Yes.”
Belias gave her the sort of smile that had led to nights spent lost in each other, but he still approached her cautiously. Her other knife was held loosely in his hand. “I am willing to withdraw if you do.”
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I want a future, Bel. I want to change things, make a difference —”
“You can do that without becoming a killer.” He stood in front of her now. Slowly, so she could escape if she wanted, he reached up and caressed her cheek. “We can negotiate whatever terms we need together. You and me.”
“I can’t be yours,” she told him yet again. “I want more.”
“More than me?”
“It’s not about you, Bel.” She gave in to her one weakness then and kissed him. When she pulled back, she told him, “You know I love you. If I were to marry anyone, it would be you, but I won’t marry. Ever.”
AYA BRUSHED AWAY THE few foolish tears she’d shed at the memory. They’d only been together a few more times after that. The more she’d fought, the more they’d both killed, the less they talked. Belias had no desire to prove himself in public fights, and he grew increasingly upset by her notoriety and reputation for ruthlessness.
WHEN SHE RETURNED FROM the first fight she’d nearly lost, he was there waiting. He had let himself into her apartment and stood there fuming. “Where is the daimon I have known my whole life, Aya?”
“Right here.” She grabbed a cloth and swiped at the blood on her face, smearing it rather than cleaning it away. “I’m still right here.”
Belias snatched the rag from her hand and wiped the blood that was dripping into her eye. “You don’t need to keep doing this. One of them is going to kill you, Aya. If he’d caught you a fraction lower with his claws—”
“But he didn’t.” Aya pulled away and turned her back to him. In her frustration, she couldn’t get the buckle loosened on her boots. “Maybe I’m good enough. Maybe I’ll win this thing. Does that ever occur to you?”
His hand came down gently on her shoulder; he turned her to face him. “It does, but not as often as the terror that one of them will get lucky or you’ll get matched to someone faster or better trained or… I can’t keep doing this.”
For a moment, Aya wanted to give in, to tell him the secrets that drove her, but Belias hated witches even more than most daimons did. He blamed them all for his father’s death. She closed her eyes. The moment was expected; before the first night they’d spent together, she’d known that he wasn’t going to be in her life forever. Knowing didn’t mean that reaching this point finally was painless.
She held out her hand. “My key.”
“So that’s it? You choose killing over me? Over the future we could have?” Belias’ grip on her shoulders tightened, keeping her from walking away.
“We were never going to be able to have the future you want.” Aya stayed perfectly still and stared into his eyes. “I will never have children.”
“Aya,” he whispered. “We can both quit the fights. We’re already ruling class, and you’ve proven that you’re a capable fighter.”
“Tell me you’ll always treat me as your equal. Tell me you’ll accept my decision not to ever have children — and not resent me or pressure me to change my mind. We can secretly take in a scab baby, hire someone if necessary, but I cannot bear a child. Swear to it, Bel, and I’ll do it. I’ll give you forever if you can accept that we’ll never breed. I can’t change that.” The hope she rarely allowed herself filled her as Belias leaned in and kissed her gently.
When he stepped away, he withdrew her key from his pocket and handed it to her. “I can’t change who I am either. I have to have an heir. I have to have a ruling-caste wife, and unless you are my breedmate or my wife, I can’t have you.”
“To be clear, Bel, you’re choosing tradition over me,” she pointed out with as little bitterness as she could manage.
“We’d have a future — a good future. We can still hire whatever staff you want to raise the child, but I need a child of my blood.” Belias shook his head. “I could wait, but I can’t accept never having an heir.”
AYA WONDERED IF HE remembered that conversation.
She had often dreamed that they’d find a way to compromise, but that dream was gone. The last few wisps of “what if” had shriveled as he stared out from the circle where she’d sent him.
Aya had seen the flash of fury in Belias’ expression as Evelyn changed the circle. That was proof enough that he could no longer hear them. As if I’d have any reason to doubt her. Evelyn was one of the most frightening creatures Aya had ever encountered. If Marchosias had an equal in either world, it was the witch who currently held Belias prisoner.
“Are you sure it’s wise to return there, Aya?” Evelyn folded her hands together again. “If this spell goes awry, you’ll be exposed.”
“I made a bargain.” She tried not to watch Belias pace the circle like a caged animal. She’d dreaded seeing the look of horror in his eyes when he found out what she was, but she knew she’d never be what he wanted. Daimons and witches didn’t breed. Common knowledge in The City said that they couldn’t, but she was proof that they could.
Evelyn’s voice drew Aya’s attention back to her. “You could stay in this world and take a position here at Stoneleigh-Ross.”
