Page 67 of Merciless Is My Crown

“Give me my weapons back.”

Vireena shook her head in mock sadness.

“The only weapons we allow in the Arena are these.” She brandished her deadly knife. “Unless you happened to bring one?” Her smile deepened as she circled left, those two wicked blades gripped in each hand.

“Well then, it’s cold and we should get on with it.” She raised her voice. “I expect this will not take long at all and you can all go back to your warm beds. Hopefully not alone.” Laughter rippled through the crowd; more money changed hands.

Vireena’s muscles flexed, every inch of her marked with scars, the trophies of these contests, every one of which she’d won. On her left arm, exactly where mine was placed, was a similar tree, except hers didn’t glow. The gnarled marking was raised like an old scar.

“You can’t mean for me to fight without any weapons.” I matched her pace, staying well out of reach of the witches at my back. I kept my eyes pinned on Vireena but had no illusions. I was as likely to be attacked from behind.

She flipped her knives and caught them with a smile, then did it again, her wrists flexing, fingers sure and steady as she turned the blades inward, preparing to slice me apart when she lunged.

She moved too fast, and I barely evaded the full impact of her body. Her shoulder brushed mine and sent me spinning. I crashed onto the stone, my knee buckling, pain screaming along the back of my arm. I pressed my hand there; my palm came away slippery with blood.

Black as the night sky above us.

“Now there’s a surprise. You do bleed black.” Her eyes scanned the crowd. “Your mother must be so proud. Do you see that, Adele?” Vireena called mockingly. “Your daughter is one of us, even with her Fae-tainted blood.”

I braced my trembling legs, my knee popping back into place, blood splattering the stone beneath my bare feet as more dripped from my fingers.

The High Priestess pointed her knife at my bloodied arm. “I will carve that scion mark from your arm and hang it in my trophy room. How many do I have now, Morana?”

One of the advisors from earlier chuckled. “Ten, soon to be eleven. This one is prettier than the others, I think. A nice addition to your collection, Priestess.”

She was a blur of motion and I dove, hitting the ground hard enough I lost my breath, barely managing to roll away and avoid those knives slicing down toward my face. They skated across the stone with a shrill metallic shriek, while I kept rolling, climbing to my feet at the last possible second.

Not fast enough to dodge her next strike.

I pressed my hand to my stomach, blood dripping between my fingers.

“Your body is a weapon, girl, if you weren’t soft and weak. But we will bury you here, in our lands. An honor, to rest beside your ancestors.”

More laughter this time, edged with a hunger that sent up goosebumps all over me. Dane tracked my every step, eyes focused, lips tight. As if he were timing his rescue attempt down to the last possible moment.

I gave him a subtle shake of my head.

I had no illusions he’d be killed if he so much as stepped inside this ring, and if I didn’t survive this—which was looking more likely by the second—he was Tristan and Tavion’s last chance. He glared back at me, then we spent ten precious seconds having a silent argument that we both knew I’d win.

When I die, get them out. Promise me.

He glared, jerked his head once, and that was that.

But something inside me settled. When Vireena killed me, there would be a lull while she celebrated, carving the mark from my arm. The crowd would collect their monies, and Dane would have an opportunity to get them free.

Perhaps Tristan could turn into a wyvern and fly them to freedom.

A nice thought, at least, even if it was?—

“As you know, you are not the first to challenge me. Others have tried, but I have been High Priestess longer than my last ten predecessors. You should have stayed in Caladrius and celebrated your victory. Coming here was a mistake.”

“Don’t I know it,” I muttered, then my breath exploded out of me as she hit me full in the chest with both fists, one blade skating over the skin above my breast, splattering blood everywhere.

The pain caught up to me the same time I slammed down onto the hard-as-fuck rock. I was still gasping as I rolled, narrowly avoiding her heel driving down toward my face. Her foot caught my shoulder and something popped, my arm going numb.

“Get up,” she hissed. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

A full moon rose swiftly overhead, and the silvery light turned the Arena’s uneven floor into a confusing maze of shadow and light as we circled, my feet catching in every hole and divot.

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