His body shuddered beneath mine, the hands on my back tightening. “You have to surrender, Rocks. I can’t stop until you do.” There was pleading in his voice, and as I pulled back, I opened my mouth and closed it just as quickly, before shaking my head. I put my hand on my throat to tell him that I couldn’t surrender, even if I wanted to.
Can’t speak.
More than one growl sounded from around me then, and I knew that the other brothers had heard my thought. Coen swung us around so that he could glare up at the glass box, and then his voice slipped out into the air around us. “Close your eyes.”
Our stare held for an eternity, and I was relieved to see that he was as unhappy about what was happening as I was. I gave him a quick head nod, and closed my eyes, mostly trusting that I would make it through this. My feet gently hit the sand as Coen took my face into both of his hands, the tingling pain started quickly, and increased to the point where I wanted to cry out, but thankfully, with a quick snap of energy, darkness took me.
When I woke up, there was pain everywhere, but most of it was focussed around the area of my chest. I struggled to pull myself into a sitting position, peering cautiously around at the stone room. It looked kind of like a dungeon, with bare, stone benches and a barred door—which had thankfully been kept open. I groaned, doubling over and clutching my stomach. The Abcurses were near, but they were stretching me out, taking the distance right to the edge of what I could bear. I slipped off the bench, my head swimming dizzily, and padded toward the door on shaky legs.
“Fuck the gods,” I muttered, just to make sure that my power of speech had returned.
It had. Check that off. I was also still in possession of every single one of my limbs, which I considered a feat, seeing as I had just jumped into the Sacred Sand Arena to face-off against Coen Abcurse, pain-master of Blesswood.
“Fuck the gods,” I said again, a little louder this time. Just double-checking. “Fuck the fucking gods!”I screamed. I had no excuse for that one. It just felt good.
“We get it,” a familiar voice noted dryly. “You’re a little angry.”
“Emmy?” I blinked at my best friend as she came into view, walking down the stone corridor toward me. “Am I in a dweller dungeon?”
“No.” She reached me, pulling me into a fierce hug. “You’re below the arena. Atti was attending this sun-cycle and he came and got me when they called you onto the sands. He said you might need some clothes.”
“Are the gods still here?” I asked as she set me back, running her eyes over me critically before handing me a bundle of cloth.
I looked both ways down the hallway before struggling out of the ruined dress and pulling on the clothes that she had brought for me. A pair of shorts and a shirt; they were the plain sort of clothing that I’d run around in back at the village. She must have found them in my backpack. The sols didn’t wear these sorts of clothes—especially not the shorts—but the village dwellers often had to overcompensate for the heat and the lack of cooling methods with sparse clothing.
“I have no idea. They rarely ever show themselves anyway. What the hell have you done, Willa? Why the hell have they singled you out? Do theyknowthat you snuck into Topia?” She lowered her voice for that last part, eyes darting around as if she expected some of the robed bullsen-balls to just pop into existence down here.
“I …” I opened my mouth, closing it again.I have no idea.“Maybe this was Rau. He seemed to be really angry at the Abcurses, and they told him that I was Coen’s plaything. That Coen was fond of me, or something weird like that. So maybe this had nothing to do with me … maybe this was a punishment for Coen.”
Emmy’s frown deepened, her eyes sparking with warring concern and anger. If I didn’t know her for the goody-sol-lover that she was, I would have thought that she was actually pissed at Coen, and the others, for bringing me into the middle of a god-battle.
“They got called up there,” she said gently. Her voice almost resigned. “All five of them.”
“To the god-box?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m going up there,” I announced, striding past her.
“And how did I know that you would say that?” She set off after me, able to keep pace with me far too easily for my fragile ego.
“Because you’re secretly a rebel, and your mind works just like mine?”
She snorted, which I took for a no. “I’m glad you’re okay, Will. I was terrified. I thought that Coen would kill you. I feel like your bad luck has gotten so much worse since we arrived here.”
“Nah.” I shook my head, peering up a few different stone staircases, trying to figure out which was the way back up. “We’re friends now, even if they won’t admit it. And I’ve only stabbed one person since we came here.One!I mean … yeah … it was a god. But still. Coen wouldn’t kill me.”
“I came to the closet early this morning to check up on you, but you weren’t in there. I assumed you told them everything.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice. Five let me sleep in his room.”
“Five?”
“Siret. Trickery. The one who’s always kind of smirking.”
“Five as in Dorm Number Five?”
I finally found the right staircase—with no help from Emmy—and grabbed her hand to drag her after me, which was a nice reversal of sisterly roles. “You’re so smart. Why can’t all people be as smart as you?”
