Page 78 of I Summon the Sea

But Mera has a point there, I have to admit. It turns out the laws of the games allow any human who volunteers to enter, as long as they don’t possess water magic because… that would ensure they win.

And winning is apparently exactly the opposite of what the fae king wants. We are sacrifices to the gods and the Pillar. We aren’t supposed to escape the arena. Every one of us who escapes death’s maw is only pampered and readied to try and die again.

The humans are whispering among themselves about the horrors they experienced in the arena and the coral forest, about the snakes, the birds, and the white wyrm that carried us in her mouth to the finishing line.

They are subdued—no doubt still wallowing in shock after having escaped death when others didn’t, but also due to the stares and sneers of the fae sitting further up the long table.

Axwick, however, probably with the aid of the wine, isn’t deterred.

“Did you know,” he says, not even bothering to keep his voice down, “that originally the Death Games were conducted on solid ground, and humans were released in the woods, the fae coming after us with full license to kill us? Sometimes even the games expanded to include the extermination of entire towns and villages, prizes given to those with the most trophies.”

“Ax…” Mera glances at him, now ignoring me completely, a frown on her face. “Shut your mouth. This isn’t the place or the time.”

“And then King Rouen ascended the throne,” Axwick goes on despite her warnings, “and decided to relegate the killing to his archnemesis, the finnfolk, to strain relations between the sea and land…”

A guard is moving down the side of the long table, his wooden wings rustling and creaking. The conical hat on his head is decorated with a silver feather.

“Uh-oh,” Mera says, leaning back.

Axwick chuckles, finishing his wine and smacking his lips. “The truth always hurts the wrongdoers, doesn’t it?”

“And sometimes the innocents, too,” she mutters. “So shut up.”

My throat is dry as I watch the guard continue his stroll toward us, his spear thumping on the floor with every other step, those wings looking ominous instead of silly on his large frame. The tall hat and the somber uniform make him look like a malevolent spirit.

But before he reaches us, commotion up at the dais arrests his steps and his attention.

We all turn as one to look.

“The king is coming,” someone whispers.

Finally. My heart is thumping so hard. I’ve waited for this moment for so long. At times, in the arena, it didn’t seem feasible, didn’t seem possible that I’d be sitting here, ready to face him.

A forest of spears shakes behind the dais, then the guards climb on it, escorting a tall, crowned fae at their center. They part to let him climb up to the throne, and a hush falls over the congregation.

Great horns sound, reminding me of the sea and the tritons’ conches, and then the herald cries, “His Exalted Majesty,AnaxRouen Finnvara Jeridwen Ridan the Magnificent!”

I strain to see, along with everybody else. He’s so far I only have an impression of long, pale blond hair and—horns? Or branches? No, it has to be the crown. A crown, pale hair, and long golden robes, and that’s all I can make out before he sits on the throne.

I see more wings moving behind him. His guards fan out on either side of him to form a line—of defense? Against us?—their wood-and-metal wings creaking.

The creaking battalion.

The fae revere the air as much as they revere the earth and the life it gives forth, and worshipping winged beings is, I realize, their way to grasp what they don’t have. They can’t fly. I’ve heard legends about how in their past they were smaller and winged. About how now they ink such wings on their backs and look up to the sky.

But I don’t believe it. They are too arrogant to have sprung from a race that small and humble.

While servants enter the hall, carrying huge platters covered in steaming dishes, one thing strikes me: Jai isn’t here.

I’d fully expected to find him by the king’s side, but he’s nowhere to be seen. A scan of the hall doesn’t show his tall form anywhere along the walls. I can’t sense him nearby.

He may be already seated, my rational mind provides,that’s why you can’t see him. And what’s that? You can’t sense him? What nonsense. That’s not the kind of magic you wield.

And if he isn’t here, all the better. He distracts you. You need to have your wits about you.

Clenching my teeth, I return my full attention to the king, where it belongs. The man who destroyed my world, and even worse, sent his men to take away the boy I loved.

I’m facing him for the first time, and I promise him that he will pay.

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