Page 64 of This Cruel Fate

You shouldn’t either. Xolia warred with herself. She’d already manipulated Helen’s blood, but Silas had hated it when she used her blood manipulation more than strictly necessary. Winning this fight like any other variant might further endear her to everyone watching. But you’re not just any variant.

Xolia yelled her frustration and pulled a fraction of the water away from her body to form a sword. The short reach would make it harder for Helen to separate Xolia from it though it would be harder for Xolia to get close to her.

Helen tried to push Xolia off-balance, but Xolia remained standing. Xolia pushed a wall of water toward Helen, forcing her to the edge of the cage.

Xolia ran at her. Helen blocked the strike. She formed her own melee weapon, hard to see but for the small ripples in the shape of a sword.

They struck, parried, circled one another, and struck again.

Xolia took the offensive again, swinging at Helen. Right when Xolia was about to land a strike across her midsection, Helen knocked the sword from Xolia’s right hand, and without her left to help grip, there was no resistance as it flew to the side of the cage, spraying water on the twins and Adonis.

Helen smiled. “My father used to talk about you constantly. I can’t really see what all the fuss was about.”

With her left hand, Helen funneled a torrent of air, which knocked Xolia to the ground. Instinctively, Xolia braced against the fall with her hands, sending sharp shooting pains through the regrowing nerves and tendons of her left arm.

On the ground, Xolia turned to Adonis, who watched her with wide eyes. She couldn’t let him down. She couldn’t let Peter down. I can’t let myself down. I’m better than this.

Taking a deep breath, Xolia closed her eyes and channeled all of her focus onto herself. She was so tired of losing. She hadn’t been able to beat Atlas. She still had to prove herself to the church. There was no guarantee Peter would win. And if he didn’t win, it would all be for nothing. Every choice she’d made since the gala would have been worthless. Her easy life with Marshall was gone. This was it for her. She needed to act like it.

Xolia’s eyes flashed open, and she let herself go. Blood seeped from her pores and over her left wrist until there was an approximated hand. Before Helen could level her with a killing blow, Xolia rolled away, adrenaline coursing through her. She stood and pulled more blood up to the surface of her body, coating her arms, and she punched Helen across the jaw.

The satisfying crack of bone buzzed through the air, and Helen took a wobbly step back. Her eyes flashed; this was the first substantial hit Xolia had gotten on her. Helen tried to push Xolia to the wire wall of the cage, but Xolia ran from her.

The shouts of the crowd urged them on. It almost felt divine, the deadly dance between the two of them—the way their elements clashed and battled for dominance interspersed between the punches and kicks.

Helen mis-stepped. She tried to kick Xolia but overextended her leg and dropped to the ground. Sweat dripped down her unblemished skin.

Xolia drowned out the fears of using her blood manipulation and pulled on Helen’s blood. She pushed her against the ground, making it impossible for Helen to move.

Brushing sweat-plastered hair out of her face, Xolia leaned down to pick up the wireless microphone, which had sustained some damage from their fight. Her heavy breaths still reverberated around the room; it worked well enough. “I know that some humans would have us back in the barracks. I know that we still have laws that are only in place to hurt us,” Xolia said. “But I know that I can change it. FAR can change it better than Helen DuBois or John Clement can.”

Xolia locked eyes with Adonis, a small smile on his lips, and nodded at him. “I know it’s hard to have faith but believe me. I made it better once; I’ll make it better again.” She dropped the mic and sucked in a shuddering breath. Xolia looked up at the top level, the angle of the glass made it impossible to see inside. Was Senator Davenport still watching? Did he agree with her? Would he turn her in?

She looked at Helen, still pressed to the ground. Tears and sweat pooled around her eyes. There was nowhere else for Helen to go, no way to escape. Xolia took a step toward her. Then another.

All the fear and apprehension about what she had to do melted away, only to be replaced by the fear and apprehension of having people watching. There were so many of them, it would be impossible not to trace it back to her. If this leaked, it would derail all of her careful plans. Atlas hadn’t hurt her with his own hand at the fights, and when he had made a direct move, it had been under the cover of night. She could do that too.

Her heart thundered against her chest. Xolia knelt in front of Helen. “I win.”

Helen strained against the invisible bonds, a vein in her forehead throbbing. If Xolia had to guess, Helen was trying to harness the air without use of her arms. She smirked; Helen wouldn’t be able to do anything.

Xolia whipped her head over to Adonis and the twins. Before the twins could retaliate, she jerked an arm out and latched onto their bloodstreams. The strain of holding three people wasn’t sustainable, but Adonis jumped into action right away, directing those loyal to him to grab the twins and Helen. The clamor of the room picked up, shouts and cheers and clapping.

It started hazy and indefinite, but within a minute the sound clarified into the three distinct syllables. Xo-lee-a. Xolia. Xolia.

A smile stretched across Xolia’s face. They were actually cheering for her. They believed in her. She had won. Variants were standing behind her. Adonis stepped into the cage with her and swept her into a tight embrace that she quickly reciprocated.

“We need to take care of Helen and the twins,” he whispered.

“Now?” she asked.

He nodded, his cheek brushing against hers. He pulled away and lifted her right arm up in triumph to the cheers of the crowd. “Do you think this means something? Or is this just part of the night’s entertainment to them?” Xolia asked through a wide smile.

“I’m not sure,” Adonis answered. “I have faith it means something.” He squeezed her wrist. Xolia bit back a retort, faith was priceless when people had it.

Xolia and Adonis stumbled out of the cage. The crowd pushed in against the pair, with more of Adonis’s people filing in around them. They walked them back through the hallway and up a flight of stairs to the room full of monitors and screens. It was empty except for Xolia and Adonis.

Xolia stared at the chaos unfolding down below with a giddiness she hadn’t felt since she was a child. There was no guarantee this would work, but it felt like things were going in her favor. It felt right. She was finally getting the recognition she deserved; her efforts were being rewarded. This was the purpose, the meaning, that had been missing from her life. Nothing Marshall could say would ever compare to people looking up to her for guidance. She couldn’t quell her shallow breaths.

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