I nibble my lip, considering my answer, but there’s only one I can give. “Then I’ll yield right away. I have no need to win a duel. No insatiable desire for the prize money. Our goal in coming here was to learn the identity of the thief who stole your Chariot and sent the ogre after us. As soon as my opponent reveals herself in the pit, we’ll have our answer. She may escape with the stolen travel device, but her identity should allow you to track her through traditional means, right?”
His expression brightens with something like approval. “It isn’t a terrible plan. Especially since I still highly doubt it’s Tris we’re dealing with. And you’re right. We came here to learn the thief’s identity, not win duels.”
“Well,youhave to win a duel. All I have to do is yield.”
“And possibly trick a fae queen into giving a murder confession.”
My stomach turns. “Yes, and that.”
He releases a heavy sigh. “You’re certain about this? Even with the best plan, we can’t escape an element of danger.”
“Huntsman, if we don’t prove my innocence, you’re going to turn me over to my stepmother, and she wants me dead. I’d say you brought that element of danger straight to my doorstep already.”
He gives me a half grin. Even though it looks nothing like the smile he wore in the alleyway earlier, it manages to tighten my belly. “Very well, Miss Snow. Tonight we duel.”
15
THE HUNTSMAN
Later that night, Astrid and I wait in the underbelly of Department Wrath for the match to begin. We stand in silence in a cool dark room constructed of sandstone walls, lit with a single lamp hanging overhead. A solid metal gate stands between us and the sandy floor of the arena, but the sound of chattering spectators has already risen loud enough to be heard through the door. The stadium must be filling up quickly. Soon the duel will commence.
And I’ll be forced to fight a legend.
“Are you nervous, Huntsman?” Astrid stares at me from where she leans against the opposite wall. We’re alone, yet we’ve kept our distance since entering the waiting room, each lost to our own thoughts and worries.
I’d like to tell her I’m not nervous at all, but that would be a lie. I hardly know what came over me when I boasted about my certainty that I could beat Helody. No, I suppose that isn’t true either. I know exactly what drove me. It was the excitement of a wager placed, the thrill of a bet. Instead of money, I placed my life on the line. Even though I know it will be dangerous, I am determined to win. I must. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself.”
“Well, I’m nervous.” She pushes off from the wall and crosses her arms. She’s dressed in loose linen trousers and a form-fitting wool top—an outfit she selected from Department Envy earlier today.
I’m dressed in similar attire. Both of our ensembles were chosen with the forthcoming duel in mind. Even though our plan means Astrid shouldn’t have to fight at all, it’s wisest to be practical. Cumbersome skirts will only get in the way should she need to dodge or run. Practical attire or no, her outfit makes it hard not to stare at how her shirt hugs every curve of her torso. Especially since her figure is all I can clearly see.
She nibbles her bottom lip. “There are so many ways this could go wrong.”
“You’re the one who said we should do this.”
“Oh, I’m not having second thoughts. Only that…well, I’m just feeling a little panic, all right?” She reaches into her pocket and extracts her vial.
My shoulders tense as she begins twisting off the cap to her poison. In a few quick strides, I reach her and place a hand over her vial. “Don’t.”
She takes a step back and gives me an affronted look. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t take more of that. I watched you take three drops two hours ago.”
Her scent flares with guilt, then indignation. “I’m only going to take one drop. It will settle my nerves.”
“It will do more than that.”
She rolls her eyes. “It won’t put me to sleep if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m plenty awake. A single drop will only ensure my mood is stable when I enter the ring.”
I clench my jaw against everything I want to say. I know I shouldn’t get involved. What she does isn’t any of my business.
And yet…
“You’re slowly killing yourself,” I say in a rush, my tone sharp. “Do you know that?”
She stares at me for a few moments, as if she can’t tell if I’m joking. “Huntsman, I’m half fae. You know this. Crimson Malus can’t kill me.”
“Not like it can kill a human, no.” My eyes land on her elbow where blood had ceaselessly gushed last night. “It may not instantaneously poison you, but it is killing you nonetheless. Did you wonder why last night’s wound didn’t start healing until you took another dose? It’s because your body has come to rely on the poison to heal at all. Your innate fae healing has been compromised. Soon your human healing will be as well. You’ll get to the point where you won’t be able to do a thing without it. You’ll need more and more just to avoid common ailments your own immunity should be able to fight. But the more you take, the more your mental faculties will grow compromised too. You’ll be fighting to survive and won’t even be awake or aware enough to realize you’re surviving at all.”
