“Brexley?” Killian had called my name several times now. “Talk to me.”
I didn’t want to give up hope, but I was losing the battle within. The truth stared me boldly in the face. No one was coming for us. So many were dead. And since I didn’t see a way out, many more of us would follow. Maybe it would be a blessing. If Istvan found the nectar, this country, and probably the world, would be hell on earth anyway.
“Don’t give up on me, Ms. Kovacs. Not now.”
“What’s the point?” I hated the pitiful break in my voice.
“What is the point of all of it?” he responded. “Remember what your uncle said the one night in the square? Love, friendship, and family. They are the reason to fight for all of this. The single true point of life. The rest is bullshit.” He quoted Andris’s sentiment.
My head dropped to my knees, tears burning behind my lids, my mouth pinning together to keep my sob back. The memory of my uncle was sharp and raw. A cruelty no torture could touch. My father’s death had destroyed me, but there was a purity in that pain, a hole I could fill with his memory.
Andris’s loss? I had no way of coping with it. No way of untangling the guilt and blame from my love. My hands dripped with his blood. My heart was scarred by my actions. It didn’t matter if he begged me to, or it was the right thing to do. I was the one who killed him. I was the one to carry the weight.
“Brex, you have all of it. Love, friendship… a family.”
I wiped my damp eyes on my pants, tucking my knees tighter to my chest.
“And I will remind you, the moment you are bored with the Neanderthal, I’m right here.”
I stifled the laugh bubbling up my throat. “Really? Cause it looks like you are plucking at another flower.”
Killian huffed at my cheesy pun.
“Please. What I did was what any decent person would do.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You are in here for the same thing. Standing up against those sick bastards.”
“You sound a little defensive there, Killian,” I taunted.
“She’s not only insufferable, but human also. I have no interest in her or any others.”
I recalled when the book took me to the past, when the sexy pirate and stunning dark-haired woman were in the tunnel with him. His feelings for her were written all over his face, his heartbreak and hurt.
“Who was she?”
“Who?”
“The girl I saw in the tunnel when the fae book took me back. I think you called her Kat.”
Killian audibly sucked in.
“She’s no one.”
“We are probably going to die in this hellhole. Tell me something of your past. I saw your face; I know you were in love with her.”
He was quiet so long, I assumed he was rebuffing me, but then he softly spoke.
“We grew up together. She was my best friend… my first love.” He cleared his throat. “She did not feel the same. Not the way I felt for her.”
His interaction with her made even more sense.
“Where did you grow up?”
“Where didn’t I? I have made sure people only see the ruler I am now. The high fae leader.” His tone went formal. “But I wasn’t always. I came from poverty. Worked, fought, and bled to get myself to where I am now. My title wasn’t passed down to me. I earned it. Though some might say I stole it. What can they expect from an ex-pirate?”
“Pirate?” I wheezed out. I assumed the other guy was in the passage, but it was hard to look at Killian and think of some dirty, brutal, immoral pirate—though I was willing to give it a try.
“I grew up on the sea, Ms. Kovacs. Was trained under the most famous, ruthless pirate there was. Taught me a lot about this world. How it runs. How to play the game.”
My mind went to the sexy dark-haired man I saw in the tunnel with Killian, remembering the girl called back for him.
“Was it the Croygen guy I saw?”
Killian didn’t respond, but something in his silence led me to believe it was.
“I would love to hear stories about you as a pirate. Your scandalous adventures on the sea.”
“That, Ms. Kovacs, is for a different time and place.”
“I look forward to it.”
“You should.”
The clatter of the door unlatching yanked our attention to the door. Our chains clanged over the wall and floor as we recoiled back, preparing ourselves for the hell that was coming for us. Fear gripped my insides, fluttering my lungs as several figures stepped in.
Boyd took lead.
“How are we all doing?” Mocking. Cruel. His eyes danced back and forth between us. “Have to say, my liege, you really have let yourself go.”
With the light flooding in, I could see Killian better, and it made my chest tighten. The iron wasn’t letting him heal, his wounds still raw and bleeding, puffy and looking infected. The fact he had stayed awake and coherent this whole time with me, was concerned about me, spoke volumes of his strength and determination.
Killian couldn’t take another beating. I could. I had to turn Boyd’s attention to me.
“What’s your excuse then?” I lifted my eyebrow.
Boyd’s head cut to me, nerves jumping along his neck, his boots stomping toward me.
“No!” Killian thrashed against his cuffs. “Come at me, gennyla’da!” Shitbag.
Boyd’s strike banged my head against the wall, but I didn’t feel it. The burning rage inside me scorched out all pain. I turned my head back to him, the taste of blood on my tongue, and grinned.
“You hit like a human.” Even in the dim light, I could see Boyd’s face turn scarlet, his jaw grinding, hands fisting. I got what I wanted. His focus and anger were entirely on me.
Killian’s yells faded into the background; my only attention was on Boyd, waiting with a smirk for him to attack.
He did not disappoint.
Blow after blow, he seethed and spit, his rage consuming him. My mind quickly pulled me away from the assault, feeling his kicks and hits as if I possessed some strange protective shell around me. The heat inside only grew, numbing me from all outside pain.
“Boyd! Stop!” Another guard yelled at him—the bald one who took Tracker out. “The general wants her able to perform. Stop.”
Boyd looked as though he were about to punch the guy, but he stepped back, breathing harshly, his glower back on me. Blood dripped from his knuckles, and I didn’t know if it was mine or his.
“The only reason I’m stopping, bitch, is because what’s ahead of you is even worse.” Boyd straightened his uniform, sneering at me. “Mark my words, you are going to die tonight, slow and excruciating… and the last voice you will hear will be mine.”
Chapter 24
When the guards unchained Killian and me, hauling us out, I knew what was ahead. Where they were taking us.
It was time for the Games.
My heart pounded with each step, the air shifting when we reached the tunnel leading to the arena. Energy hung in the air like serrated knives, the crowd’s chants resonating down the passage, a call for blood. For death. Anything to distract from their own despair and anger. How easily we all turned on each other, becoming the monsters they deemed us—cannibals eating our own instead of coming together and attacking the one starving and torturing us.