He held up her battered backpack. “Yes, you do.”
She made herself look deep into his cold eyes. “And if I agree to this, you swear on your own blood to let me leave here alive and return home?”
“You are more Fae than I realized, Soul Sucker. You bargain like my queen.”
“To be brutally honest, I just don’t want to deal with any of you ever again.”
“You are an empath. Your work will bring you to Otherworld.”
She swallowed hard. “I’ll endeavor not to come near any Fae of your Royal bloodline. I never have in the past. How does that sound?”
He held out his hand, and she shook it.
“Good luck, Soul Sucker.”
“Thanks.” She took her backpack from his outstretched hand. He damn well knew that if Vadim died so early in their relationship, she was unlikely to survive. He was quite happy to let her walk away and die. Her resolve to bring him down hardened. She gave him her best smile. “But I don’t think I’ll need it.”
The king walked to the opposite end of the row of chairs, where the Dark Lord’s emissary sat, and engaged him in conversation. Ella stared down at her backpack and struggled to control her emotions. She’d never understand the Fae and their cavalier attitude to life. If it made you that ruthless, maybe being immortal wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
“Good day, Ms. Walsh.”
She looked up to see Vadim’s diminutive mother taking the seat beside hers. She, at least, hadn’t changed her clothes, but her leaf-green silk gown was worthy of any occasion. Despite everything, Ella took a moment to covet it.
“It’s vintage Dior.”
“Not magical elves? Damn. Don’t tell me you can read my thoughts, as well?”
“I didn’t need to. Your face gave you away.” The queen smiled and smoothed the silk. “As you are mated to my son, I
“That’s empaths for you. We’re tricky.” Ella returned her gaze to the scene below them. “How exactly will this battle work?”
“Usually, it is a series of magical tests combined with physical strength.”
“And is it usual to have one man against four?”
The queen sighed. “No, but my son is very powerful. I believe he will overcome his opponents.”
“You do?” Ella looked hard at the queen, but her beautiful face gave nothing away. “You’re the only person who thinks so.”
“Even you doubt him, Ms. Walsh?”
“I have no idea what to think.”
“But you intend to aid him.”
It was a statement rather than a question, and one she felt confident not answering.
“How do they stop other people adding their magic to the fight?”
“They put up a barrier, but it doesn’t always work. I suspect anyone who wished to influence the outcome of the contest could get involved, if she or he had the means.” The queen lowered her voice. “Like a bonded mate linked with one of the combatants, for example.”
Ella glanced at her sideways. Wow, she was being remarkably helpful for someone who was supposed to be alienated from her son. She’d basically given Ella the go-ahead to help Vadim anyway she could.
Below them, a trumpet sounded, and three males bearing silken banners advanced from the rear of the hall, reminding her strikingly of Vegas again, although even she didn’t think she could stand having to eat a medieval banquet right now. After the men came three leashed black dragons, their fanged tongues flicking out over strong white teeth, their red eyes gleaming. The four sect dudes came next. She glanced around the hall. Apart from her, the Dark Lord’s emissary, a dozen guards and the Royal family, there didn’t appear to be any other spectators, which suited her fine.
Vadim walked out and she almost forgot to breathe. He was also armed with a sword, but had no other armor. He towered over the other Fae, his expression chillingly remote and focused, his black-feathered wings folded tight against his spine. For a second, his gaze appeared to alight on Ella and the queen, but he offered no sign of acknowledgment. She gripped her backpack hard and concentrated on simultaneously keeping her shields high and searching for a way through to Vadim’s mind.
Ah, there he was. She breathed a little easier, only to almost squawk in annoyance as some kind of shield came up around the arena, weakening her link to a trickle. Would it be enough to maintain their connection? If she increased her power, someone might detect it. Hopefully, once the battle began and interest turned to that, she could increase the voltage.
“Is Morosov supposed to fight them all at the same time? It seems a bit one-sided.”
“I assume there is more to it than that.” The queen’s pale beringed fingers were twisted tightly together in her lap.
The trumpets sounded again. Adam the asshole stepped forward, his voice carrying down the entire length of the hall.
“The contest between Death Bringer and the sect is to the death.”
“Hopefully, your death,” Ella muttered.
“Let us begin.” He clapped his hands and the four sect members dispersed to God knows where, leaving Vadim alone at the far end of the hall. Ella focused her awareness of her mate and began to pray.
Vadim caught sight of Ella in her pink jeans, sitting next to his mother at the far end of the hall. A more incongruous pair he could hardly imagine, but they appeared to be talking to each other. Ella’s mind brushed his like a butterfly’s wings. He almost smiled, and just remembered to turn it into a glare instead. He felt the hum of magical power as a shield enclosed the hall and the wavering of his mate’s presence in his head. Before he could panic, she was back, a little weaker but definitely there.
Adam started shouting something about the battle being on, and then the four members of the sect promptly disappeared, leaving Vadim standing by himself in the center of the floor. Wasn’t anyone going to tell him the rules? Perhaps there were none. His smile was savage and his fangs elongated, scraping past his lip. Not that he needed any rules. He was quite prepared to kill and maim as necessary to win his and Ella’s freedom.
And when Ella
The tiled floor beneath his feet started to shake as if they were having an earthquake. When the dust settled, a strange array of rocks and ruined buildings covered the floor space, reminding him of the ruins of a classical city, or an overturned chessboard. Some of the buildings were high and some quite low. Presumably they were meant to provide cover for the sect as they took turns to try and fuck him up.
A flicker of movement on his right held his attention, and he turned as another massive bolder with the icy sheen of an iceberg shot up through the floor, cracking the tile. On top of it was one of the sect, his dagger poised to throw.
Vadim ducked to the side and held his hand palm up to deflect the passage of the blade. At the last moment, he realized the dagger was magically primed to find his heart, and had to increase his own power to repel it. The tip of the blade grazed his outstretched thumb and pain shot through him. With a roar, he sent the weapon spinning like a boomerang right back at the red-haired man who’d thrown it. The metal gleamed in the sunlight as it sliced through the male’s silk shirt, drawing a corresponding line of stark red and a shout of rage.
The smell of his own blood and that of his opponent mingled in the air, making Vadim lick his lips in anticipation.
“
He spun around as Adam appeared to his right, backed against an ancient-looking Roman arch, an arrow notched and ready to fly from his small Fae bow. Where the hell had that come from? Hadn’t they agreed no weapons but daggers beforehand?
“That’s not allowed!” Vadim shouted.
