“Congratulations, Theodore Savero and Reever Ross. You have passed the wisdom challenge and have advanced to the memory trial next. Please go enjoy healing and refreshment in the recovery tent,” the priestess said, pointing toward the arena exit. She retreated toward her peer.
Reever strapped his axe to his back. “What was that about?” he asked.
“What was what about?” Teddy asked, feigning confusion.
“You lost focus at a mighty critical moment, Your Grace.”
“It was the crowd noise.”
“It was right before the crowd reacted,” Reever countered.
Teddy smiled tightly. He couldn’t let anyone know about the bond or they would use Stella against him. “I heard a lady friend’s voice through the crowd. A momentary distraction, that’s all.”
Reever narrowed his eyes. “You should get those scratches looked at.”
The mercenary did not seem convinced, but he headed toward the healer’s tent. Teddy couldn’t show any extra attention to Stella, so he couldn’t stay and watch, much as he wanted to.
He forced himself to walk to the healer’s tent and not even glance over as he passed the pit where Stella was still fighting.
12
STELLA
The noise of the crowd was at an all-time high and Stella was keenly aware that another competitor had either died or completed the challenge, or perhaps both—a death and a victory at the same time.
“Look alive, princess. That beast is retreating now, but we need a strategy here. This is the wisdom challenge,” Fionn said.
Stella glanced from her mercenary partner to the priestess at the corner of their pit, who rang a bell.
Ten minutes left, or she was out of the Gauntlet Games and she’d lose her shot at happiness.
She chanced a look at the royal box where Arden was leaning forward in his chair, his worried gaze fixed on her. Stella forced herself to smile. She looked to the gamemaker’s box where Endros sat. A ghost of a smirk played over his lips. Leave it to the god of war to invent the most violent wisdom challenge in years.
Usually, any violence in this challenge was quick and vicious and explicitly a result of not using one’s head. But a fight against a monster in a pit that required both talent and luck was sure to produce the bloodshed the god of war savored.
Endros nodded at Stella, his eyes faintly glowing with power. Achill spread through Stella’s body, but she refused to be a pawn for him. If he had a score to settle, she wouldn’t be the one to pay the price.
Fionn walked toward her, two curved blades in his hands. His hair, which had been perfectly tied back, was now plastered to his forehead and neck with sweat. The intricate design on his Novumi fighting leathers had been slashed by the beast they were fighting.
The sun blazed down and sweat beaded on Stella’s forehead. The hairs at her nape had drawn into tighter curls in the humidity, tickling her skin every time she moved.
She sized up their opponent as Fionn stepped up beside her.
The Octobear, as she’d been calling it, stood close to seven feet tall. It had the body of a wild bear, but eight large, tentacled legs sprouted out of its back, each tipped by a bear paw with vicious claws.
The mythical beast was entirely summoned by magic, so loud it made her ears ring. All magical objects had a sort of resonance, but this monster had a more distinct ancient sound that unnerved Stella.
The water in their pit was already up to her calves, soaking into her boots and making her movements slow and slippery.
But soggy feet were the least of her problems. She had a monster to slay in the next ten minutes if she wanted to advance in the contest.
“Is this a bad time to admit I was expecting you to pick talent, not luck?” Fionn said.
Stella scowled at him. “Forgive me for not realizing someone with your ego wouldn’t pick talent.”
“Offended that you think I don’t already have it, princess,” he said with a wink. “At least that luck is serving us well.” Fionn gestured to the claw gashes on his left thigh.
Stella laughed and winced at the throbbing in her side. The Octobear had gotten her good with one of its long-range tentaclaws. Her shirt and the waist of her pants were soaked in blood, but the leather breastplate had saved her from the worst of it.
