A large, powerful hand slipped through the bones, parting them. An arm followed, then a foot and leg and shoulder and head—
Raven exploded from hiding, leaping high enough to slam an elbow down on the back of the massive man’s neck. He released a grunt and stumbled forward as she landed behind him. He started to turn, but she was already moving forward, stamping down hard on his foot and bringing a knee up into his groin area. He gasped and doubled over just in time for his chin to meet her fist as it swung up in a vicious uppercut just as
green moonlight slipped through the gap in the bones and fell across his face.
“Shite,” Raven muttered, watching as Goggin dropped to one knee, clutching his midsection.
“Like all my ex-wives rolled into one…” he said, his voice raspy and breathless.
“You damn fool,” Raven said, rushing over to him. “What were you doing slinking around like a thief in the dark?” She put her hand on his shoulder and he winced, as if he thought she might strike him again.
“I wanted…to make sure…you were okay,” he said, taking sharp whistling breaths between words.
Raven cursed under her breath. It was just the sort of thing the big brute would do. He was selfless to a fault, even if she could hear the rocks rattling around in his skull at times. “C’mon. Lie down,” she said. “Rest for a minute.”
A devilish smile curled his broad lips. “Are you inviting me to bed?”
She swatted him. “I’ve just assaulted your manhood and you’d proposition me?”
Gritting his teeth against the obvious pain he was in, he said, “You can assault my manhood any time. And I will proposition you any way you want.”
Despite herself, Raven shook her head. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were declaring your love for me.” It was meant to be a jape, but Goggin’s face suddenly turned serious.
“Aye, I am, empress.” He flashed a grin. “And offering my body for your pleasure.”
Raven scoffed. “Is that the line that got you all your wives?”
“Aye, so long as I kept them drinking simpre.”
Raven didn’t know what to make of any of this. Was he being serious? Was he joking? More than anything, she was trying to figure out which she hoped for. What the hell is wrong with me? Goggin? Really? Yes, she’d known him for a long time and considered him a friend, but why did she suddenly feel hot all over at his nearness?
“I am about to fight to the death in the arena, and you thought it a good time to tell me this?”
Goggin seemed to be recovering slightly, his body straightening. One of his strong hands reached forward, settling on her hip. “I have faced drowning and death, dehydration and monsters made of blood and sand. Next to those things, love is a kindness I will not waste.”
Raven tried to hide the quiver in her voice as she said, “Why Goggin, you almost sounded poetic there.” His fingers seemed to burn through the thin night-shift she wore.
“Did I? Must be the simpre talking.”
Despite his talk of strong drink, she could not smell it on his breath. And to her surprise, Raven wanted to kiss him. Denying herself this was the only kindness she had left to offer the big man. For on the morrow, she might die, and she would not allow his heart to die with her.
“Goggin,” she said, wishing his hand would move from her hip so she would not have to remove it herself. Wishing it wouldn’t. Wishing his lips would stop her words. Wishing she could speak them faster.
Wishing for more time.
“I do not love you,” she said, plucking his hand from her hip. “Not like that. Thank you for your offer, but no. I shall rest alone on this night.”
He tried to hide it, but she could see the pain on his face, deeper and more powerful than the physical pain she’d already wrought upon him.
“As you wish,” he said, pushing to his feet, avoiding her touch as she tried to help him. He bowed stiffly. “May you conquer on the morrow.”
She said nothing as he turned and lumbered back into the night, for her mouth was full of sand and regret, her eyes blinded by tears.
After all the waiting, all the stewing, Raven was glad when the day dawned hot and bright. She bathed in cool water, but as soon as she emerged from the tub she started to sweat again. Gwen was waiting within her quarters. To her surprise, Whisper was too. The women stood on opposite sides of the room, but at least they were both there.
Before either of them could speak, Raven said, “I can dress myself.”
“We know,” Whisper said.
“But we’re going to help you anyway,” Gwen finished. Something unspoken passed between the women and Raven shook her head. They’re finishing each other’s sentences and Goggin is declaring his love for me? Perhaps the world truly has gone mad.
“As you wish,” Raven said. “But be prepared to lose a finger or two. My teeth are sharp.”
“See?” Whisper said to Gwen. “She’s always been like this. Too tough for her own good.”
Gwen said, “Luckily we outnumber her. And we’ve got weapons.” She held up a bone-tooth comb. Whisper followed her lead, showing Raven the leather belt in her hands.
Raven sighed and resigned herself to her fate.
Half an hour later, Gwen and Whisper escorted her to the pyramids.
“Wait here,” Raven said, and, thankfully, this time they didn’t challenge her.
Siri was waiting inside. Not curled and sleeping like Raven expected, but resting on her powerful hind haunches, her wings half open. Her crimson scales shimmered darkly under the torchlight.
She growled, not because of Raven’s arrival, but because of what she was unable to hide in her mind.
“I know, my soul,” Raven said, extending her hand. The dragon unfurled its long neck to nuzzle its face against her palm. Siri’s eyes were closed, as if at peace, but that growl continue to rumble from her lips.
I would kill Viper, Siri said. Dragons, Raven knew, didn’t make threats, only promises.
I know you would. I would do the same for you if our roles were reversed. But you can’t protect me from this. I must fight. For our people. For Calypso. It is my responsibility. And when it is over, we shall fly above the clouds and roar, and then we shall lay low our enemies. Together. Always together.
The dragon’s growl had softened, and soon it was a purr as Raven stroked her chin, scratching her favorite spot. Always, Siri purred. Always.
Yes. You are my soul, always.
My soul.
When she could linger no longer, Raven departed and didn’t look back. She felt the strength of a dragon in her bones, for she was not only fighting for herself, but for Siri too. For if she died on this day, Siri’s descent into madness would be swift and irreversible.
The gathered crowd was still and silent, the gravity of the situation not lost on them. Unlike many of the previous challenges for the dragon throne they’d witnessed, this was not between siblings but between generations. Many of them had watched both of these women as they were defeated by their sisters—Viper by Sun and Raven by Fire. Today, was a second chance for both Sandes women to prove to their people they were worthy of their loyalty.
Raven stood as still as stone, watching as Viper approached. She was no longer in chains, no longer a prisoner. Her night-dark hair was tied with a leather thong, her eyes as piercing as those of the deadly snake she’d been named after. Upon Raven’s command, she’d been given her choice of armor and weaponry, and she’d taken full advantage. A full leather breastplate protected her vital areas, while sections of leather wrapped her arms and legs as well. Each section bore an image of the dragon rising over a red sun, the symbol of Calypso. She wore no helmet, but then again, neither did Raven, though both their necks were protected by high, leather collars.
Viper’s belt was strung with three weapons. A small dagger known as a “finisher,” sharp enough to cut through bone; a long, single-edged blade primarily used for blocking, and a whip not unlike Raven’s own
weapon of choice.
Raven never knew her aunt favored the whip. She wondered how many other things she’d never known about her mother’s sister. She wondered how things might’ve been different had Viper, not Sun, emerged victorious all those years ago.
A voice—“Raven!”—drew her attention away from her aunt, and she met Whisper’s eyes watching from a special box reserved for the empress and those close to her. Whisper said nothing else, only nodded. Still, the gesture gave Raven strength. Gwen sat beside Whisper. Her mouth opened as if she might say something, but then closed. Raven was glad for it. No words could change things now. Goggin, too, was there, though he did not meet her gaze. Sometime during the night, Raven had come to terms with both her feelings and actions. Her feelings were now all too clear to her:
She cared for Goggin greatly, and wanted to explore the seed that had been planted between them. Maybe it was nothing, but maybe it was something too. If she survived this day, she would not run from him. Nor would she lie to him again.
Her actions were clear too:
She didn’t regret how she’d left things. If today didn’t go as planned…perhaps she’d saved him from years of heartache. At least she’d done that one good thing.
“Having second thoughts, Raven?” Viper said, bringing her attention back to the space between them, which was quickly shrinking. “You can still survive this. Simply hand me the throne. I will not imprison you again if you pledge your loyalty to me. There’s a place for you in the empire—I see that now. Whisper, too, if she behaves.”
Though the latter was seemingly spoken with innocence, the threat was obvious. If Viper defeated Raven in combat and Whisper did not pledge her loyalty to Viper, her life was forfeit.
A great weight pressed on Raven’s shoulders. Unlike the first time she’d fought in this arena, so many lives depended on her now. She took a deep breath, for victory would be as dependent on her mind as her body. “Thank you, Auntie, but I shall try my luck in combat.”
“As you wish,” Viper said, drawing her sword.
Raven barely heard the protector of the city, the shiva, as he spoke the traditional words that preceded this event, announcing the challengers for the dragon throne. Instead, she heard only the rushing in her head, like a great wave crashing over her thoughts, and then—
Be brave, my soul. Be strong.
Siri’s voice vanished as the fight began, Viper leaping forward and striking with the blunt side of her blade, trying to drive Raven back on her heels. Raven stepped deftly to the side, letting the dull edge glance off her shoulder as she slammed her whip’s handle into her aunt’s temple.
Viper hissed and danced back, lifting a hand to touch her skin, her fingers returning sticky.
Raven had drawn first blood.
They circled, Viper more cautious now, dodging the testing whip cracks Raven offered—first at her leg, then at her head. The third time Raven snapped the leather, Viper anticipated it, raising her sword into its path. The whip curled around the metal, but the barbed end managed to slash across her face, drawing a line of blood just beneath her eye.
Viper slammed her sword down, trying to slice through the whip, but Raven saw the opening and darted forward, kicking her in the head. She rocked back, landing hard on her back. During the fall, Viper lost her grip on the sword, which was still tangled with the whip. In a single motion, Raven reached down and plucked the sword from the ground, spinning it in her hand to dislodge the whip. She tossed the blade aside, out of her aunt’s reach.
Viper stood up, blood painting the edges of her lips, trickling from her cheek, and streaming from her temple. Her expression was akin to the snarl of a cornered dog, her teeth grinding together. There was so much hate in her eyes, which seemed to boil over like heated cauldrons.
What had made her this way? Raven wondered. Had Raven’s mother been bad to her? Had she provoked her to this level of animosity? Were any of Viper’s actions justified?
Though it was far too late to find out, Raven hesitated, rather than pressing the advantage she’d built thus far.
This time, Viper did not. The finisher blade was suddenly in her hand and instead of darting forward with it, she flung it with a wicked snap of her wrist. Raven tried to dodge but was a hair too slow, the knife stabbing through her leather armor all the way to the hilt, which, Raven now noticed, was carved into the shape of a dragon. She felt like she’d been punched, and was dimly aware that the blade had pierced more than just the leather, sinking into her flesh, and she couldn’t breathe, for it had hit her lung too.
She fell to her knees, her attempt to draw in a breath full of wetness, her mouth full of thick bitterness. Somehow, she clung to her whip, and as Viper moved in for the kill, Raven snapped it at her legs. The tendrils curled around her aunt’s knee, the barbs sinking deep into the leather. Raven pulled and Viper toppled over, the back of her head colliding with the ground.
Raven’s hands lost all strength and she dropped the whip. Her vision was fuzzy now, and she knew she needed to breathe—just breathe, dammit!—but her lungs weren’t working, her airways filled with blood, now dripping from her lips.
She was lost, she knew, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t save Whisper. Her aunt was stirring, though she looked groggy, like she’d just woken up. Raven fell forward onto her hands, but managed to hold herself up on all fours. She crawled one step at a time like a babe, sucking in wheezing breaths, each growing shallower than the one before.
Viper rolled over, shaking her head, as if trying to dislodge water from her ears.
Raven collapsed onto her stomach. Dug her nails into the ground and pulled, dragging her body through the dust. Her vision swam as she reached her aunt’s ankles, which multiplied from two to four to six.
Three versions of Viper fought to their knees, facing away. Then one knee, preparing to stand. All of them. But only one was real, the other two phantoms.
Her arms trembling, her breath lost in a wet gurgle, Raven pushed herself up, until she too was kneeling. Her aunt tried to regain her feet, but collapsed back to one knee. Raven knew she couldn’t let her live, not if she wanted to save Whisper.
Her hands found the knife embedded in her chest. Pulled.
She was too weak, the blade stuck in flesh and bone and her lungs and leather and—
“ARGH!” she managed to scream, blood bursting from her lips as she pulled, harder, harder, a wet sucking sound arising as the knife began to move.
Her muscles popping, she wrenched the blade free and jammed it into the center of Viper’s back, severing her spine.
Exhausted, Raven fell, flopping down atop her aunt’s prone, unmoving body.
My soul, she thought. Are you there? Can you hear my voice? Can you feel the beat of my heart? It beats for you. It always beat for you.
There was no response but searing pain roaring through her body. And then there was nothing. Nothing but darkness and fading and the mournful roar of a dragon in the abyss…
Fifty-Five
Somewhere
Bane Gäric
Oh no, Bane thought. Not again.
His scalp was on fire, blood leaching into the eighth portion of his arrow-sectioned marking.
Another dead ruler.
He focused and the world of fog and shadows vanished, the dusty star-speckled canyons of Phanea appearing in its place.
He ran, first to the room with the new mother. His cousin’s room. The door was closed and he took a deep breath before opening it a crack. Rhea lay as still as a corpse, her child in a bassinet beside her bed. Bane watched, his eyes focusing on the bedcovers, until he was certain they rose and fell ever so slightly with her deep breathing.
A swell of relief filled his lungs deeply. “You should go,” a voice said, startling him.
The pirate called Grey Arris raised his arm, dagger glinting.
“I was just—”
“I don’t care. Go.”
Once, Bane would’ve despised being talked to
like that, but now…
Now he didn’t know. Now he didn’t care, for he was stripped of everything that had once given him his identity, his purpose.
He left, hazarding a single glance back to find Grey watching him the whole way. His mind raced. How literal was the prophecy? Technically Rhea wasn’t the queen of the west. Roan was. But Roan had rejected it, leaving it for Sai Loren to claim. Did that mean Sai might be dead? If so, what did that mean for Knight’s End? Regardless, two rulers were dead. Who else?
His heart hammered as he considered the possibilities. Gareth Ironclad. Raven Sandes. And another. One he’d tried to kill himself, though now he regretted it.
His own sister. Annise. Queen of the north.
Bane burst into Roan’s quarters to find the lifemarked sitting in a chair, staring into the dancing flames of the fire. “What’s happened?” Roan said without looking at him.
“I should’ve told you before,” Bane said.
“How many?”
“Two now.”
Roan’s eyes fluttered closed, and he didn’t move for so long Bane thought he might’ve fallen asleep. Just when he was about to sneak away, Roan’s eyes opened. “Two left then?”
“Yes,” Bane confirmed. “Two rulers left to die.”
“All right. Can you do something for me?”
“I’ll try.”
“Find out who we lost.”
Bane’s heart thundered, surprised at how proud he felt for being trusted with such a task. “I will.” He blinked and he was gone.
Fifty-Six
The Southern Empire, Phanea
Shae Arris
“This changes everything,” Erric said. “The Horde killed another two rulers. We can only assume it was Annise Gäric and Sai Loren, which means the north and west have both fallen. The Horde is too powerful because of the fatemarked leader at their helm. We have no choice now. This is the last resort.”
“Why?” Shae said, although she knew he was right.