Page 66 of Merciless Is My Crown

I’d prove myself tomorrow. Beat Vireena, and once I got Tristan and Tavion free…

It was a fucking good thing these witches didn’t believe in rugs, because we would bathe this fucking castle in a sea of blood.

25

ANARIA

Iwatched Vireena all day and the only thing—the one worthless thing—I learned was she was left-handed. And fucking unbeatable, from the shite talk I heard from the witches all godsdamned day long about how badly I was going to die tonight.

They’d separated Dane and I first thing, kept us apart and, except for a couple scraps of food left on a plate in the dining hall, I went hungry. I managed to find a cup and scoop up enough snow to melt myself two glasses of water, but by the time the sun fell behind the mountains and her guards came to escort me outside, I was running on nothing but fumes.

I still had my magic, and that would save me.

I kept telling myself that during the long, cold walk through the arches, across the flat plain, then down a set of uneven, treacherous stone steps leading to a broken outcropping jutting out over a thousand-foot drop to a crevasse below.

The Arena was a flat plane of gray stone surrounded by a ring of equally gray obelisks, each one carved with odd symbols. Every surface was highly polished, reflecting the clouds skimming across the darkening sky, shining with the night’s first stars. Wind whistled across the slick surface hard enough to throw off my footing, and the whole thing was slanted—toward a drop-off that had no bottom.

Every witch in the coven had to be here tonight, a screeching, bloodthirsty crowd. Gold changed hands, money I doubted was wagered on my victory. Dane stood on the sidelines, arms crossed over his chest, hemmed in by the crowd.

Good luck, he mouthed. Be careful. Then he jerked his head to the opposite side of the Arena.

Adele was there, as if Dane had purposefully placed himself as far away from her as he could manage. Ironically, she was still wrapped in Tavion’s old cloak, eyes burning so fiendishly bright I turned away.

My guess was Vireena had fought here a hundred times and knew every single dip and divot in this polished, tilted surface. Knew where the high ground was and how to use it to her advantage. All I knew—she was left-handed.

She shed her robe, pulled off her leather boots, and I did the same, the cold stinging the soles of my feet.

At least the moon peeked through the clouds. It wasn’t snowing or raining.

She laid two of those horrid curved knives in front of her and grinned, then went back to stripping until she stood in formfitting pants and a tight sleeveless shirt that showed off every defined muscle. Easy to move in with no chance I could catch her by loose clothing and use the leverage to my advantage.

I was in my leather pants, thin shirt, and had no weapons.

But I had magic.

I kept the smile off my face as some witches pointed at the scion mark on my arm, whispering. I took a steadying breath, met Dane’s eyes, and slid off the iron bands, waiting for the crushing surge of power to overtake me.

Nothing.

I slid them back up then down again, as if I could somehow reset the magic.

Vireena grinned, her pale eyes mocking. “No magic can be used within the circle of stones. This is a battle of prowess and strength. We have other ways to test your magic. But this contest…” She slid her tongue up the sharp edge of her knife and dark blood—as black as raven feathers—welled on the tip.

I was so fucked.

As if to rub that fact in, Vireena flashed me a wild grin.

“This contest is brute strength. Only the strongest witch sits on the red throne.”

She flipped one of her knives into the air, the blade catching flashes of moonlight until snatched between those deft fingers. “Oh. One more thing. There is no yielding. This is a fight to the death.” She leaned closer, her eyes gleaming. “Your mother did tell you, didn’t she?”

Oh fucking gods. I was going to be sick.

Dane was thinking the same, his eyes wide with horror.

Now I saw the reasoning behind the tight circle of witches gathered today. Not only an audience to the bloodshed, but a wall to keep me penned inside while their priestess carved me apart. I wondered if my magic would reappear as soon as I stepped past those obelisks, but I’d never get past the crowd, who stood five deep.

I tossed the bands on top of my discarded clothing and lifted my chin.

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