Page 2 of A Lick of Flame

The cage door clicks open, and the scent of magic fills my nostrils for a few seconds.

“Stand still,” Ejam says as he shackles my hands and feet. I don’t bother fighting. Even if I overpowered the four guards and managed to flee, there would be nowhere for me to go. All of the underground paths lead to the same place: the stadium. To the crowds, the blood-thirsty beasts, and to more fae guards. I would be recaptured in seconds.

I shuffle-walk from the cage, the guards flanking me.

“Good luck, Devil!” the new guy says. I know that I more than likely won’t see him again. That one or both of us will perish today.

“It’s Dante,” I say, and, as always when I say my name, it feels wrong. Once again, I shove the wayward thought aside. The time has come for concentration. For unwavering focus, lest I perish at the hand of the beast or beasts I will be pitted against.

We walk down the long hallway, the chains scraping on the stone behind me as I drag them along.

We finally make it to the first set of steps. I could walk this path in my sleep. My body operates almost on autopilot. There is enough give on the chains to allow me to lift my feet. We reach the top of the stairs. There is a short walkway before we climb more steps. Then we are walking down a hallway that is bright at the end. By the time we make it there, my eyes have adjusted to the bright sunlight.

The sound of the crowd is deafening.

My shackles are removed.

“Good luck, Dante,” Florian says.

“Any pointers?” I ask him. They know what I will be facing today in the pit. Florian always has a word of wisdom for me. Where to aim. Weak spots. That kind of thing.

He looks down for a moment. “I’m afraid not. You’re on your own today,” he shouts above the din.

Kakara be still, but this is bad. Worse than bad. It’s terrible. “Nothing? Really?”

He shakes his head, looking sheepish. “Not today…no. Sorry,” he all but mutters.

The gods be damned! I am in trouble here.

If it’s a beast I’ve faced before, he tells me that I’ve got it. If it isn’t one I know, he gives me a pointer or two. Never this. Never nothing.

“You’d better get out there, human,” Ejam says. He pats my back. “You are a decent warrior; I’ll give you that.” I think it’s his version of goodbye.

I swallow thickly and nod once. “That bad,” I manage to get out.

“Go already,” Nicholas shouts. “There is no use delaying. You will incite the beast and the crowds even further.

“Only one, then?” I lift my brows. Worry churns in my gut. As much as I hate what my life has become, I don’t want to die. I realize that now. I want my freedom back, and in order to get it, I have to fight. I must win.

Without answering, Nicholas gives me a shove toward the pit. In the center of the open area is a sword and a shield. The sword has been stuck into the red dirt.

The crowd chants louder as I walk out of the dark hallway into the sight of the people lining the stadium seats, all of which are taken.

“Devil! Devil! Devil!” they yell.

Women scream my name, trying to draw my attention. Most of the people scream words of encouragement. There are a few who shout profanities.

I ignore them all, like I have from the start. I hate that this is happening. That human beings are expected to fight for entertainment. For coin. For her…for Snow. As always, I feel a sense of sorrow when I think of her name. Why? I hate the evil witch. My queen? No! I will never bow to her.

At first, it irritated my captors that I didn’t put on a performance for the crowd. It has since become what I am known for. The crowds love my apparent indifference to them. As well as my respect for the creatures I am forced to kill. I make their deaths as swift as possible. No toying with them first. No maiming them. They are just as much victims in this as I am. I feel nothing but shame each and every time I am forced to kill one.

Sucking in a breath, I take big strides toward the weapons since I only have a short while before one of the huge cage doors is opened. Before my adversary is revealed.

I pull the sword from the ground, inspecting the blade, which is made from Damascus steel. An intricate gold leaf design winds its way up from the handle along each side of the blade. It’s fae workmanship at its best. I clasp the shield, slipping my hand through the leather straps. It’s light and strong. I am told it’s an alloy of steel and a fae-mined material called zuuuk. My blade glints in the sun; it’s light and as sharp as they come.

I roll my shoulders, waiting to see which of the doors will open. To see which of the creatures I am fighting today. I pull in shallow breaths and center my mind, ignoring all distractions.

A loud, grating noise echoes to the right of me and I quickly turn my head in that direction. Slowly but surely, one of the great iron doors begins to open, squealing as it moves up on pulleys. With each passing beat, my heart races faster, and I squint, straining to see what lies beyond the threshold and into the dark depths of the enormous cage.

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