Page 81 of Prisoner of Steel and Shadow

RONAN

“They really didn’t tell you anything about what to expect today?”

Ronan shot an annoyed glare in Bast’s direction. “The answer hasn’t suddenly changed in the fifteen minutes since you last asked me.”

“It just seems odd, doesn’t it?”

“No odder than the first day.”

Bast chewed on his lower lip. “Yes, I suppose you’re right, but a notecard with a time and location feels a little anticlimactic for the grand finale. With it being the last trial, and with all those sponsors in attendance, you’d think the High Lord would want to ensure a good show. I mean, they paid a lot of money for the privilege of attending. The money he made off their bets alone...”

“Don’t think I don’t know about the betsyou’vebeen making.”

“I bet against you. Get over it. I won and offered to share the winnings with you, didn’t I?”

“How kind of you to offer memymoney.”

“Your money? You didn’t win the bet.”

“No, but you still owe me from the card game.”

Bast let out a dismissive huff. “I’ve more than paid you back for that.”

“You think so, do you?”

“Have I not been your loyal and faithful companion these last weeks? My friendship is priceless. Now, back to the trial... What are you going to do if it comes down to you and your lady love?”

“I don’t know,” Ronan answered honestly. He was no closer to figuring a way out now than he’d been the day he signed up. “I guess I’ll improvise.”

“Improvise? Improvise! Ronan. The arena probably has ten thousand people—”

“Ten thousand, Bast? Really. No wonder you’re a shite gambler. You can’t fucking count. There will be a couple thousand, tops. And that’s assuming people traveled for the occasion.”

“You know they did. You could see the tents and caravans from our window. They’ve been coming in droves to watch today’s death match.”

“We don’t know it’s going to be a death match.”

That was true, if they were being technical about it. No one had actually spoken the words out loud, but it wasn’t exactly a secret either. From day one, it had been hinted that the finalists would face off against each other in a battle to the death. And just because the other trials hadn’t explicitly demanded murder, there was no doubt in Ronan’s mind that the missing contestants hadn’t got up and left town after losing their various tests. One of them? Sure. All of them? Not fucking likely. Just because no one had discovered a body yet—Marin’s notwithstanding—didn’t mean there wasn’t a pile of them rotting somewhere.

Death had always been a foregone conclusion.

It was simply a matter of whose.

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Ronan asked, glancing around the unfamiliar buildings. His involvement in the contest hadn’t given him a lot of time for exploring, but he was fairly certain the arena they’d constructed to hold today’s trial was in the opposite direction, just outside the western gates.

Bast reached in his pocket and pulled out the card someone had left under their door. His brows dipped as he scanned the address printed on the back. “It should be just ahead on the next block, but...”

Intuition was a harsh buzz in Ronan’s veins. The street wasn’t exactly deserted, but it was close. Though that wasn’t unexpected with the city’s population making its way to the arena. It certainly hadn’t aroused suspicion... until now.

Still staring at the building with a frown, Sebastian asked, “Do you think they asked everyone to meet here? Or maybe they have you all spread out, and you’ll have to race to the arena and fight it out there?”

There was no knowing what Erebos had up his sleeve, but Ronan had a feeling his being sent here wasn’t quite so innocent. The rules were clear. Any contestant not present at the start of a trial was automatically disqualified. It wouldn’t be difficult to send him a fake set of instructions to get him out of the way.

“It’s a trap,” he growled.

“Are you sure? Maybe someone is waiting for you inside.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

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