Page 77 of Crown of Ashes and Awe

I adjusted my position when the beast settled on its haunches. A moment later, it lowered the rest of its body to the ground. I’d drawn all the power of Hestia from it, but I needed more. I needed it all. So, I commenced again.

From a distance, I heard Ciro shouting, heard the creak of leather as guards hurried toward me. But there was a wind in my head that pushed those sounds away—a spinning tornado of power looking for a place to settle.

All I could do was swallow it.

My ears popped and I heard the protests of the mob clearly once more. They didn’t appreciate losing their favorite killer. And neither did Ciro. But his howling was interrupted when someone used something very hard to hit my head.

37

DISAPPOINTING MONSTERS

When I came to, I was tied to a chair sitting in a familiar row with the rest of my friends—those who had survived the day, that was. Clearly, Ciro didn’t want me to miss a moment of his bloody production, but thankfully, he no longer enjoyed my company.

The back corner of my head throbbed where I’d been hit. I might have been struck by the hilt of a sword because it felt like it was still embedded in my skull. After a bit of blinking, my vision cleared. I was dizzy but the world slowly settled back into place.

Lears and Poole sat to my far left, Griffon and Lennon beside me. On my right sat a hornless version of Sweetie with unexpected curly hair. On his far side sat Minkin, then a still-stunned Bain. Tearloch and Nogel were missing.

A red-eyed Lennon put her arm around me and pointed to the arena floor. Tearloch gathered weapons while a terrified dragon rider stood quaking nearby. “Be tough,” she said. “For him, you can be tough, can’t you?”

“Tough?”

“You bet. There will be plenty of time to fall apart later. For now, you suck it up…for Tearloch.”

The man I loved only spared me a glance. He smiled when he saw I was alert and all right, then turned his attention to Nogel. “You will have to do it yourself,” he explained as he pressed the hilt of a sword into the young man’s hand. “He said he will no longer accept anyone falling on their sword. So, if you want to live to see another day, you’re going to have to put your weight behind it and follow through.”

He was teaching the boy how to kill him! Tearloch intended to die!

My insides turned to ice. He was going to leave me…just as I had believed I was leaving him.

He moved next to Nogel and demonstrated how to swing horizontally. “Now you do it.”

Nogel barely lifted the sword, never took a step.

Tearloch lifted his arm and backhanded him across the face. “Snap out of it, boy! Time to fight for yourself!”

Nogel shook his head as if just waking up. Then he tried again, stepping forward as he lunged. But there was no power behind it.

Across the arena, just beyond the lowest barrier, Ciro watched. He sat on a bench, hunched forward, as if in pain. Even from that distance, I could see pale trails down his face. Maybe killing his dragon had caused some torture after all.

If Tearloch jumped the barrier and sliced off his head, would the mob force him to fight Nogel? Or could we get out during the ensuing chaos?

I put the question to Sweetie.

“He’d die in the trying.” He nodded at the number of guards surrounding the madman. “And Tearloch would have considered it. Besides, you’re tied in. We’ll need time to get you free.”

“I have a dagger in my boot.”

Horns sounded in the distance. All eyes turned to the skies. Closer horns answered back, and Ciro forced himself to his feet. Guards flooded the arena floor. They surrounded Tearloch and Nogel, forced them to their knees, then held them there.

Someone was coming through the dome!

Minkin lifted my skirt and found my dagger, then went to work on the ties. No one noticed her being out of place. Bain leaned closer to Sweetie, closing the small gap left by her absence. After the ties fell away, Minkin placed the dagger hilt in my hand and crept back to take her place between the men.

I wanted to vault the short wall and join Tearloch, but with everyone in the arena frozen in place and all Ciro’s guards on alert, any movement would be noticed. So I sat there, watching the sky beyond the metal grid with equal parts hope and dread. But still, the small dome remained in place.

Finally, a runner came through the dragon door and ran for the stairs. Someone directed him to the lower level where Ciro waited. Whatever news he delivered, Ciro was furious enough to throw the messenger over the front of the wall, but since he wasn’t in his usual box, the man didn’t fall far. He quickly found his feet and ran back out of the arena the way he’d come.

After a moment’s ranting, Ciro called people to him, barked orders, then staggered back to the bench and collapsed. He called for his drink and poured it down his throat while he glared at the retreating metal dome.

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