Inside are six furry little beasts. The tone of the crowd instantly shifts, a few “Awws” can be heard over the chatter.
“What the hell are those?” Marielle asks. “Teddy bears?”
“No, those aren’t toys,” Cora purrs in my ear, her teeth tug at my earlobe, “they bite.”
“One of Victorine’s personal creations,” Roland says, eyes glinting with delight.
Unease crawls up my spine. Unlike every other challenge where the illusions are nothing but fear and mist, I sense something different on the field. Smell it, too.
“Those aren’t—”
“Illusions,” Cora says. “They’re real, and their teeth will shred the skin off a dragon.”
Marielle’s eyes light up, and Roland kisses her neck. Sweat beads on my lower back, and I set down the bottle of booze. Now isn’t the time.
“Tonight,” Victorine shouts, over the buzzing crowd, “our challenger will face off against six of the most terrorizing creatures ever imagined. If she survives, she’ll be the leader in my army. If she fails?” She shrugs. “There won’t be much to clean up.”
Victorine holds up her hands, a signal that the challenge is about to begin. Everyone in the arena begins a drumbeat with their feet, stomping down on the stone floors, making an ear-splitting rhythm. Cora and Marielle stand, laughing like schoolgirls, joining in the game, while Roland slips his hand beneath the vampire’s skirt.
The small creatures mill around the cage, looking uninterested as a figure, their prey, is pushed out of the hole. My first reaction is a rush of relief. It’s a female, but too short for Hildi.
That’s until her hood is removed in a swift, unforgiving yank.
“Fuck,” I say aloud, uncaring who hears me.
It’s not Hildi.
I stare down at the tiny fairy, possibly the one person that will force the Valkyrie’s hand.
Elizabeth.
37
Hildi
I woke that day, flat on my stomach, blinking at the sunlight, streaming in from the top of the window. A quick glance at Elizabeth’s bed told me she’d left, but there’s also a plate with a pastry, fruit, and steaming coffee on my desk. I wonder who left it there? My roommate or my winged lover?
Who, I thought sitting up and looking at my healed hands and knees, simply slept with me. Nothing more. Held me. Comforted me. What kind of lover does that?
More than ever, I beli
eve he was real. But who is he? Why is he coming to me at night like a thief?
I spent the day in my room, not interested in seeing anyone. I skipped out on training. I boycotted dinner. I read a book I found on the desk. It was Elizabeth’s, thick parchment about some kind of spell work. I kept looking back at my hands to see if there was any blood on them.
There wasn’t.
Hours pass and I’m still sitting alone. The dorm’s oddly quiet, I’m assuming at another challenge. The truth is, I’m waiting for the knock. The message. The hand-scrawled note. If anyone were here, I’d admit that Victorine got in my head. She found a crack and slithered in. It’s what she does, right? That’s what the Immortals told me. It’s why they’ve kept their distance.
I look down at the ring and wonder what Morgan would say about this. How do you fight someone that plays dirty like this? She’d tell me I’m strong.
I am strong.
Why am I hiding in here?
Knuckles rap on the door. I knew in my heart it would come. Nothing good is ever on the other side. Just more work, more humiliation, more demeaning.
I consider ignoring it.