Courting War (Vicious Gods), page 21
The words felt like a knife to Kellyn’s gut. None of this would have happened if he hadn’t lied. Their positions would probably be reversed. Emmett, the champion, and Kellyn, the poisoned.
Kellyn’s intestines twisted, and his tongue was thick with worry. Apologies and truth—conflict resolution—were some of the scariest words one would ever say. Because what if he got them wrong? What if he buried their friendship even more?
He sucked in a breath, the vein in his neck pulsing with the ragged beats of his heart. “I’m sorry—”
“Sorry for what?” Emmett snapped back. “Intentionally trying to kill me? What a useless word, Kellyn.”
“You’re right. It is useless because I should have told you my secrets long ago.” Kellyn fell like a heap into the chair beside Emmett. The chair rocked slightly from Kellyn’s sheer size, but he steadied it. “The truth is that I didn’t mean to name myself as champion—”
“Didn’t mean? What utter bullshit.” Emmett shook his head. “If I had enough energy to leave, I would. I don’t want to listen to more lies, Kellyn.”
“I'm a liar—”
“Yes, you are.” Emmett’s brow furrowed. He didn’t expect Kellyn to admit to it.
Kellyn rubbed the beginnings of a beard, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Would you hear me out? If you don’t like what you hear, I promise I’ll give you space and not ask again.”
Emmett gritted his teeth and balled his fists. He didn’t want to listen to anything. Probably livid from the loss of his honor and the poisoning. Kellyn couldn’t fault him. He was supposed to be an expert in herbs, yet he failed spectacularly at the second challenge. It wouldn’t make sense out of context. “I’ll listen if you promise me that if we both live through these games, I never have to see you again.”
Kellyn’s heart crumbled. The words were squeezing it to death. “I promise to do my best to avoid you after the games if it’s still what you want.”
“It will be.”
Kellyn nodded. “I can’t read.” He rubbed his temples. “I see the words on the page, and I have a hard time making sense of them. Understanding anything written takes me at least ten times longer than everyone else, and even then, my comprehension isn’t good.”
“You can’t read,” Emmett scoffed. “Then how did you get through the Agoge?”
“I cheated.” Kellyn blew out a breath. “I stole the assignments and tests beforehand, wrote codes on my arms to remember things, refused to do things, and acted like a privileged dick. I did everything I could to avoid reading aloud.”
Emmett glowered, but he seemed to be at least taking in some of it.
“My parents almost didn’t let me attend the Agoge,” Kellyn continued. “They’ve threatened to disown me if anyone found out about my affliction. That’s what they called it because since I was young, I’ve struggled to learn. Nothing helped. My parents tried withholding privileges, beating me, and even beating others when I failed, but nothing helped because I couldn’t learn like that.”
Kellyn’s palms sweated, and he couldn’t look his friend in the eyes. His shame was out in the open. Emmett would know just how stupid he was. But this was an apology, so he needed to finish it. “Gallagher switched out my speech with one handwritten in cursive, and I got flustered. It’s harder to read handwriting because none of the letters look the same. I couldn’t read any of it and didn’t want to name the wrong person, so I named myself.” Kellyn’s mouth was dry, and he swallowed. “When I found out it was your name, I got anxious and lied.”
Kellyn sank into silence. Shame swirling around and painting a tableau in his heart. The shame of his affliction, but also the shame of not telling his best mate. If he could reverse time, Kellyn would’ve told his friend everything years ago, but he was too afraid of losing their friendship. Now, because of his lies, it was already lost.
“You can’t read . . .” Emmett repeated slowly.
“I didn’t tell you because I would lose everything if my parents learned anyone knew. It was better to die than have people know my shame.” Kellyn shook his head and rubbed his temples. “No, that’s not completely true either. I didn’t tell you because I was ashamed. Intelligence is the most important thing to you, and I felt like you would hate me if you knew.”
“I wouldn’t have hated you,” Emmett said. “Not for that.”
Raising his head, he finally met his friend’s eyes. “But you would’ve thought less of me.”
Emmett nodded. “Yes.”
“You think less of me now.”
“Yes.” Emmett’s lips fell into a flat line, and his eyes hardened. “I need space to recoup and prepare for the next challenge.”
Kellyn felt the yes like a punch to the chest, and he didn’t know if Emmett thought less of him because of his confession or because he thought he was a big dumb brute like everyone always assumed.
Both options gutted him, but he couldn’t ask for clarification because Emmett didn’t want to continue the conversation.
Chapter Twenty-Six
KELLYN
Champion of Theoden
THE HALL OF MIRRORS, CITY OF THE GODS
Emmett was better in the sense that he could stand and walk on his own, but his complexion was pallid, his eyes sunken, and sweat dripped from his brow with barely any movement.
A walking, talking weakness.
All Kellyn’s fault. He didn’t like their chances in the challenge. They needed all the gods’ favor if they were to make it through alive. But they needed to continue. Kellyn couldn’t afford any more delays.
It was Queen Nefeli’s challenge. Her mirror was framed by twisting oak tree branches with spiral knots. Its silver reflection was intermingled with falling rose petals and yellow diamonds.
“Shall we?” Cecile asked.
Kellyn grunted and stepped into the mirror first. Best to get it over with.
As his hand slipped through, it felt like a calming bubble bath with rose petals floating on the surface. It was like the mirror was greeting him with a comforting hug.
He shivered. Its kindness was just as unsettling as if it had used claws to greet him. It caused his stomach to churn and set his toes on fire. He expected danger around any corner. The gods were evil, and any perceived kindness was a trap. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Kellyn stepped out onto train tracks leading into a tunnel. Cliff edges surrounded them, and bright pink trees and bushes grew down their sides. Magnolias, crabapples, and cherry trees expanded in every direction, covering the crevices, and shadowing the canopy above. It was a burst of pink; all shades from tea rose to moonstone . . . and even puppy paw pink littered the rocks.
A land of enchantment.
Petals rained down on them, and Morrigan shuddered as she caught a wisteria seed. Her face grew green, and her eyes grew hollow, clearly remembering her sickness.
Sprites danced along the branches, eating her tangled emotions. The little fairies sang songs of joy and unease, sounding like a grand symphony with one of the violinists out of tune. Engrossing, yet slightly off.
“Into the tunnel?” Emmett asked, eying the cave consumed by shadow. Bella stood at Emmett’s side in panther form and acted almost as a walking aid.
“So it would seem.” Morrigan shooed away a sprite that landed on her shoulder.
Together they walked into the cave, their hands locked so as not to lose each other. But honestly, there was a part of Kellyn that just wanted to hold onto Morrigan for more than traveling through a dark passage.
The darkness whispered to them. Dark secrets and promises of gruesome deaths. Things like Your flesh will melt from your bones and Be suffocated on shadows, or Kellyn’s favorite, Your insides will drip from your body as hydra acid consumes you.
“Shadow nymphs,” Cecile whispered.
Lovely, little, creepy creatures.
A nymph made from rock and shadow leaned out and whispered in his ear. “The death goddesses’ prophecy and curse comes for you, Kellyn.” Its voice was crooked and buzzing, causing shivers to dance along Kellyn’s spine. “Nefeli’s gift to you is only death.”
The hair on his nape rose, and all his muscles tightened.
It didn’t bode well.
Not at all.
Kellyn swallowed past the lump in his throat. But he couldn’t focus on fear; he had to continue. Cracking his neck, he pushed forward into the darkness. He wasn’t going to let the gods kill him. Not here and not now.
A light glowed in the distance, marking the next stage in his journey.
Stepping out of the dark, he was greeted by a vast cavern. Etched into the walls were statuettes of the pantheon, their eyes following every movement and sound.
Red sunlight shone down from a break in the rocks, highlighting an island at the center. A grand weeping cherry tree graced its rocks, and small steppingstones led to it. Everything in the cave pointed to the center—to the tree.
“Don’t touch the water,” Morrigan said, shifting on her feet. “It’s safe to say that it’s deadly.”
The pool was comprised of vibrant blue water, surrounded by a mixture of greens, yellows, and oranges, and resting on a bed of red rock—creating a rainbow illusion. Magic made the pool, but its beauty was borrowed from nature.
Heat licked the air, radiating up, the temperature far exceeding the boiling point.
Lethal yet bewitching.
“Volcanic hot springs,” Morrigan whispered. “Your flesh would melt from your bones, indeed. Our lovely little shadow nymphs seemed to be warning of how this cavern will try and kill us.”
Emmett snorted. “Wonderful, I’ve always wanted my flesh to melt off.”
“An excruciating death. It would take days for you to die completely. Days in which your nerve endings burn with agony,” Morrigan said lightly, “A charming way to go.”
“Right,” Cecile coughed. “Let’s not fall in then.”
Kellyn grunted and led the way.
One by one, the group jumped and walked across the stones. Emmett still wasn’t steady on his feet, Bella grew to an unnatural size and led him on her back as if she were a horse. Easily, she jumped across the steppingstones and kept him from falling into the boiling waters.
As Kellyn’s feet met the island, a curse-forged voice spoke. “Welcome, Kellyn, to your fate. A dance of letters and War is at stake.” The voice of Nefeli echoed through the cave, bouncing off the waters and rocks, sinking her chilling tone into his bones. “The challenge is simple: spell the words before the beast eats your pretty little priestess.”
Spell?
Kellyn’s throat ran dry, and his limbs grew heavy. Spelling was a requiem of nightmares—where all decaying dreams were formed. In the panic, all Kellyn could think about were silent letters.
What was the point of a silent letter?
Appearance? He genuinely wanted to know. Why spell a word with a silent K? Why?
Language was horrifying.
The ground shook, as did Kellyn’s bones. From the waters climbed a second island with a sand pit cut into a perfect circle—a gladiator arena. A gust of wind blew like a cyclone and refracted Morrigan into the pit. She clutched her knees, the teleportation stirring her stomach.
“Stop refracting me,” she yelled up the ceiling. “You know I hate it.”
Nefeli cackled in response. “No helping from the gladiator circle.” Her haunting laugh continued, and a silver cross decorated with weapons popped out of the sand. “Choose your weapons, and let the games begin.”
Morrigan’s face paled. It was the manifestation of the fear she’d shared with him—the fear of not being strong enough, of not trusting her new body to act as she needed it to.
She glanced at him, their eyes locking for a moment. Both recognized the difficulty that lay before them.
Holding her head high, she faced the assortment of weapons that clung to the cross. Swords glinted under the watchful gaze of the cave light. Longswords, broadswords, greatswords, rapiers, and katanas. All waiting for carnage. Yet no guns because modern technology was outlawed in the games.
Morrigan picked up a few and smelled the blades, checking for poisons. Then she lifted the javelins and tested their balance, checking to ensure they’d fly quickly and straight through the wind.
It was fascinating to watch. She was a weapons master.
Knowing precisely how to wield every weapon from the broadsword to the bow to throwing stars.
She treated each with respect and dignity, touching them like newborn babies. Morrigan set three aside before moving on to a more intimate weapon: the sai. They weren’t the most practical in a melee—that prize would probably go to the halberd—but from the sparkle in her eye, she seemed to love these the most.
Many weapons killed from afar, but a sai killed up close and personal.
Sliding them into her belt, she nodded and stepped back from the display. As she did, the cross disappeared, sucked under the sand.
“Your first word,” the booming voice echoed, and from the sand emerged a massive hydra. Was he spelling the name of the creature?
The beast started with five serpent heads, all snapping and dancing around Morrigan.
She twisted her broadsword in her hand, standing tall before the beast. “Let’s do this.”
She feinted past one of the heads, sliding beneath its teeth, trying to get a clear shot at the beast’s stomach. But she wasn’t fast enough, and a second head grazed her shoulder.
“Fuck,” she said, ducking around another head, switching her sword arm. The pain must have been intense for her not to want to hold the broadsword with her dominant hand.
“Kel, I don’t mean to rush you, but you might want to start spelling,” Cecile said, watching the battle unfold, wincing as another snake glided along Morrigan’s torso.
She panted, and blood dripped down her corset. But she didn’t give up.
Neither would Kellyn.
“Right.” Kellyn gulped. “Spelling. H . . .” he hesitated, having no idea how to spell the word. “H . . .I?” He guessed.
“Wrong,” the wind whispered, and from the sand sprung a second Hydra.
Morrigan loosed an expressive string of curses as she dodged ten heads.
Shit, shit, shit.
Sweat dripped from Kellyn’s forehead, and he glanced at the statues’ cameras clustering the sides of the cave. The whole world was watching, seeing his failure on full display.
“You can do this, Kel,” Morrigan shouted and rolled out of the way of the hydra’s acid, barely stopping before the side of the island. Her hair wasn’t so lucky; a loose strand fell into the water and sizzled, melting away. “Take a breath and just think about it.”
Kellyn inhaled sharply.
“We can do this,” she said, jumping up and tossing the broadsword to the ground underneath the hydra. “Together.”
Sliding past its jaws, Morrigan hurled herself between the beast’s legs, slicing them with her sais. Being smaller and faster was a definite advantage against a giant. As it fell to the ground, she clutched her broadsword from the sand and cut straight up, disemboweling the beast.
It fell to the ground dead and disappeared into smoke, leaving a black echo of its form as it left.
Turning, Morrigan faced the second monster, but as she stepped, parrying its jabs, two more hydras leaped from the black stain in the sand.
Kill one and two appeared.
That wasn’t how hydra attacks were supposed to go. Only the heads were supposed to double if cut off.
“Tsk, tsk,” the wind howled. “The objective isn’t to kill my little pets. Naughty, naughty Morrigan.”
“Kel, you need to spell the word,” Cecile said, “or every time she kills, another will pop up.”
“Yeah, I gathered that.”
Kellyn’s feet were glued to the floor, and his head buzzed. He needed to spell . . . and correctly. Red wept from Morrigan’s wounds, the snakes landing at least four blows now. She’d die if he couldn’t do this, which was unacceptable. He couldn’t deny it. He cared. He liked her grumpy moods and blunt demeanor. He liked her strange, comforting style and confidence in him.
The cords of his neck tightened, and his heart surged in his chest, beating to the cadence of shame and fear. His weakness was going to kill his . . . the girl—
“Kel, you can do this,” Morrigan called as she dodged another head. “You’re incredibly talented. You solved the stone game in the least number of moves possible. You understand patterns and see the big picture. You can figure this out, too.”
Blood rushed to his head, and his nails bit into his palms. Sucking in a slow breath, he thought about it. The big picture. What was he missing? Something.
There was something that could help him. He knew it. Morrigan certainly understood it, so what did she figure out before he could?
Kellyn’s heart drummed in his ears, and it was the only sound he could hear. So loud. Too loud.
Sweat dripped down his back.
You’re a stupid idiot.
He glanced at his friends. The blood had rushed from Cecile’s face, and every time a snake got too close, she flinched. Emmett watched with horror and fatigue. He sat on a rock, and he clutched his stomach.
What idiot can’t even spell?
Kellyn bit down hard, his jaw aching from the pain.
Morrigan groaned as another hydra got too close. She fell to her knees and stared up at the snakes. But the monsters didn’t move in for the killing blow.
They taunted her. Taunted him.
“H . . . Y?” He started, holding his breath, and waiting for the wind to reprimand him, but it didn’t come. “D?” He scrunched his nose.
Waiting.
Nothing.
Right again.
“R…”
Kellyn swallowed. He was so close. But was it I, A or E, A or just A. Oh, this language was so stupid.
“I . . . A,” he choked out.
“Wrong again,” Nefeli’s voice laughed. “Oh, how this is fun!”
Another hydra clawed out of the sand, and now Morrigan faced four monsters. Using her sword as a crutch, she stood up. She wouldn’t give up.
