I frown, not sure what he’s talking about. Then I remember the mountain. He was the one who lost his grip and almost fell to his death.
He says, “I heard your voice and it saved my life. So I want you to know that I don’t agree with what the Elven Command is doing—what my grandfather’s doing. He’s always been difficult, but he’s never been like this before. Something’s got a hold of him. He isn’t himself. None of them are.”
“Get away from her!” Baelen appears, chest heaving, sword bloody, pointing it at Eli.
Eli rises to his feet, his hands splayed out to show he isn’t a threat. He holds his bow lightly between his thumb and forefinger, letting it swing to make it clear he doesn’t intend to use it. “If you need my help, Princess, call on me. Until then…”
He drops his bow to the floor and raises his voice. “The House of Elder yields!” He nudges Rhydian with the tip of his boot. “So does the House of Valor. May it regain its dignity in times to come.”
He retreats to the side as Baelen drops to me, his hands swilling over me but never making contact. “Are you hurt?”
I don’t know how to answer. Pain thrums through every nerve in my chest but I need to peel off my armor to know how much damage has been done. What scares me more is the way Bae’s hands shake. He’s either in shock or he’s moving on pure adrenaline alone. Beneath the blood, his face is far too pale, his movements erratic. He’s lost a lot of blood and everything screams at me that he needs help but he won’t seek it until I answer him.
“No, I’m fine,” I whisper the lie and I know he doesn’t believe me, but what else can I say? I’m not dead. Rhydian didn’t touch me. Those are the important parts.
Up on the dais, the last grain of sand slides through the hourglass and a trumpet blares. Five males are still standing. The two that cornered Jasper and Sebastian both jump away from them, hands raised, their job done. The others are either unconscious or have already yielded.
Other than the final note of the trumpet, the arena is deathly silent. Up high, in the viewing levels, female elves stand on their feet, watching me, watching Baelen, watching the Elven Command. One of the females, dressed in fine robes, suddenly strides forward, her movements graceful but full of power. The others make way for her, making it clear she’s a female of high position. As she approaches the shield I recognize her as Sebastian’s mother from the House of Splendor. Teilo Splendor, one of the Elven Commanders, is her father.
In one swift move she slams her fist against the shield, holding it there, glaring at her father. Her mouth moves but I can’t hear what she says. Then she turns and strides from the arena. One by one, the other females follow her, thumping their fists against the shield before turning their backs on the Command.
Sebastian and Jasper appear at my side. Sebastian’s expression is filled with regret and sadness. “My mother’s right. We don’t treat our females like this.”
My only concern is for Bae. “Help Baelen, please. I don’t know what they’ve done to him, but I’m worried.”
Sebastian catches Baelen as he sways, working with Jasper to lift Baelen to his feet. It takes both of them to shoulder his weight, neither of them quite as tall or broad in the shoulders as Baelen is.
“Healers!” Sebastian roars into the quiet. “We need healers!”
Suddenly, healers flood the arena, racing to each of the champions, but Bae struggles against them. “No, I have to stay with Marbella.”
Jasper and Sebastian coax him all the way to his feet as the healers cut Baelen’s armor from his body. Each piece drops to the ground in front of me and as his back is exposed, the cuts become apparent—deep and ugly, crisscrossing his spine, some so deep he’s lucky they didn’t sever the bone.
“They fought dirty,” Jasper says to him. “Without honor. You can’t help the Princess unless you recover. Come on.”
“Go, Bae,” I whisper, hoping he will accept their help, grateful when he does.
I use the boulder as leverage to push myself to my feet. A female healer approaches me, but I shake my head at her. “There’s nothing you can do.”
She retreats with a deep bow to me.
The steel dagger rests in the grass. The only way I’m going to make it back to my quarters is with the Storm’s help. The cold steel on my fingers is like balm, the electricity an energy boost. I’ll crash soon, but for now, I stumble over to the dais, my body glowing.
Teilo Splendor holds his head low, his hands limp at his sides. His daughter’s demonstration has clearly hit the mark with him. The others… not so much.
“This isn’t the outcome you wanted,” I say, surprised at how calm I sound. “I don’t know why you’re targeting Commander Rath but—”
“Because he refuses to follow orders!” Pedr Bounty thuds across the dais right up to the shield. He’s one of the two Elven Commanders who still has a champion in the trials now that the Houses of Elder, Glory, and Valor are eliminated. “The gargoyle threat is imminent but he refuses to act.”
“What gargoyle threat?” I challenge, growing increasingly angry. “What are a few nests? You’ve hurt more elves in these trials—more champions on this day alone—than the gargoyles have hurt in hundreds of years!”
Shame washes over his strong features, but he’s undeterred. “An invasion is only months away. We need to strike first.”
“They’re not invading. They’re running away. Something’s driving them out of Erador and we are the lesser of two evils.”
He scowls at me. “How do you know that?”
I lean forward. “Because you sent me into a mountain with gargoyle nests on it and I happened to come across one.”
