The sharp sting of rage overpowered the ache of Katell’s grief. If Tia hadn’t slipped her those subtle clues in the illusion, Katell might never have broken free. She would’ve continued to be a pawn, trapped under their thumb, blind to the lies surrounding her.
And yet, here they were, dismissing Tia even in death as though she’d been nothing more than a discarded tool—a liability to be disposed of.
Scylas. The Freefolk. Tia. All the lies.
The bloodied sand beneath Katell’s knees blurred. Fury ignited in her chest, clawing upwards, tightening around her throat. It surged through her veins, a storm coiling, ready to explode.
Katell grabbed the hilt of her sword discarded in the sand, the familiar weight grounding her resolve.
“You’re going to regret that,” she hissed, her voice deadly calm.
The arena crackled with tension. Soldiers braced themselves while Freefolk slaves watched with wide, horrified eyes. Somewhere in the crowd, Pinaria’s stifled sob reached her ears again, a haunting reminder of the stakes.
Katell glared at Dorias, then raised her free hand in signal. “Pinaria, now!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
KATELL
Asudden burst of silvery-purple light erupted from the crowd of huddled slaves, cascading upwards in a shimmering arc before falling back down like a celestial dome. The magical barrier settled over the gathered Freefolk, its ethereal glow forming a protective shield around them. Gasps rippled through the slaves, their fear giving way to astonished hope.
The soldiers staggered back, breaking their rigid formation and shielding their eyes from the blinding light.
Dorias’ expression darkened as he glared at the barrier.
From within the crowd, Pinaria strode forward, her hand raised, tendrils of magic shooting from her fingertips. Her face was pale, but determination burned in her features. Arnza stayed at her side, standing straight, every muscle taut.
Pinaria met Katell’s gaze and gave her a single, resolute nod. Relief crashed over Katell. Pinaria’s barrier would keep the Freefolk safe. Whatever Dorias had planned, his soldiers wouldn’t be able to lay a hand on them.
But it wasn’t enough.
Katell took in the palisade walls surrounding the camp, the narrow gate in the distance flanked by armed men, and the sea of underfed slaves huddled together. She needed a plan to get them out, but her mind was so fogged with anger she couldn’t think straight.
Dorias’ smooth voice cut through the air. “Whatever you have in mind, my love, it won’t work.”
Her chest ached at the familiar term of endearment. “Don’t call me that.”
Dorias stepped closer, his tone coaxing. “We can talk about this.”
“Talk?” Katell spat, pointing at Tia’s lifeless body sprawled in the sand. “You just killed Tia in cold blood, and now you want totalk?”
Dorias’ gaze flicked from Tia’s still form to the faint glow of Pinaria’s barrier, and finally to the sharp edge of Katell’s weapon. Though his expression remained composed, his momentary silence betrayed his calculation. He was already weighing the damage Katell might inflict if she acted on her anger.
“If you do as I say,” he said with quiet menace, “no one else has to get hurt.”
Her heart clenched at his words. The man who had given her a purpose, made her believe in the Sixth and feel alive again, had truly become her enemy.
Katell’s grip on her sword trembled. Her mind swirled with memories, each now tainted with the realisation of how much he’d manipulated her.
“You played me.” The words tumbled out, her emotions slipping past her control. “This whole time, you acted like you cared—like the legion mattered, like we were fighting for something bigger, for peace?—”
“You are Laran’s Chosen,” he said, matter-of-fact. “You were always meant to join us. I just… helped you see it.”
Katell’s breath hitched, fury spilling from her in waves. “Then why are the Freefolk here?!” She brandished her blade, its tip trembling. “I trusted you with my secrets, my fears, everything—and you betrayed me. You said you’d protect me. Always. But it was all a lie?—”
A sob rose unbidden in her throat.
Dorias’ jaw tightened, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. He stepped closer and swiftly knocked her sword aside with one hand.
