His shoulders slump when he hears my truth, and his eyes glisten. I would have welcomed the Tether had I known. I would have trained harder for it. I would have given in to every dark urge. I would have wanted to kill him. Because I would have wanted Jayla to feel every bit of pain and loss that I felt.
Malcolm clenches his jaw. His eyes are full, but I can’t tell if it’s withtears or just the raindrops wetting his face. Trees surround us, their leaves rustling in response to our heated words.
“I hate you!” I yell, anger boiling up inside me. “I can’t believe you let me kiss you! Let me love you when you helped murder my sister!”
“I didn’t!” His voice cracks as he shouts, “I called Jayla’s name, tried to get her to snap out of it! I wanted to help! But I was too late!”
“Liar!” My voice shakes. A bright flash of lightning illuminates a bridge ahead of us.Was it always there? Or did it just appear?
“It’s the game,” he says. “It’s trying to rip us apart. To make us hurt each other. Don’t you see?”
I don’t know if it’s the Tether increasing the bloodlust or just the fury clawing at my chest because he hid the truth from me—but I want to hurt him. I can’t even bear to look at him. Instead, I fix my gaze on the golden runes etched into the bridge’s surface and the glowing ivory statue beside it. But even the statue betrays me: Her eyes are his eyes. And that’s when I realize… it’s Venus Davenport. His ancestor. Has she been trapped here all this time?
I remember seeing her image in that computer search in New York, and in the vision my grandmother showed me. She was once a beautiful biracial slave girl with cascading curls and a crooked smile like Malcolm’s. Now, she’s a pillar of salt, her mournful face peeking out from under a crown of snakes. I’m sad to see what’s happened to her—sad that she’s still trapped here. A flicker of sympathy sparks in me for her fate, but it’s buried beneath the wildfire of rage that still burns for him. I wonder if that could be my fate too.
The storm roars around us, wind lashing my face. I shout, “I hate the day I met you, Malcolm Davenport!” I wish I could erase him from my heart and my life.
His trembling palm touches his chest. “Star,” he chokes out, his voice thick with desperation, “I screwed up, and I’m sorry!” Tears stream down his cheeks as he continues. “I was in shock. I’d never seen the lion do that. I should have found a way to stop it, but it was too late. I swear you’re the only person I’ve ever loved like this. Please forgive me. Please.”
He gazes at me with anxious, tear-filled eyes, begging forunderstanding. “My whole life has been about protecting my family, being my mom’s last male warrior,” he confesses. “But I left all of that behind for you. I put you over everything, and my twin hates me for it. If Sabine has her way, she might die hating me for it. Can’t you see? I gave up everything to be with you,” he adds, his voice growing more desperate with each word. “Now Imani’s gone and Sabine has the rest of my family in chains.” His voice cracks. “You’re all I got left. Don’t hate me. Please, baby, please give me a chance to make things right.”
“You can’t!” I snap. “I hope you die in the Tether!” I hiss.
I imagine slicing through his skin with a blade, the metallic scent of blood filling the air, each drop a testament to my fury. Malcolm’s desperate pleas ring in my ears, but the bloodlust roars louder. I can almost feel his blood splattered on my feet, soaking into the dirt I stand on after I’ve cut him to pieces. For a moment, I’m lost to the darkness, and I like it. His tearful eyes bring me back. I’m surprised by the venom boiling inside of me, and I wonder if I really could kill Malcolm Davenport. Tears stream down my face as the statue of Venus subtly changes its pose by the bridge. Her expression morphs into one of sorrow and warning. The statue whispers directly into my mind, “Love kills.” My bones go ice cold at the words.
A dam breaks behind Malcolm’s eyes. “Is that why you do it? Why I saw you stab me in a vision in those glowing rocks? Why you kill me in round three?”
“Wh-what?” I stammer.
“I saw that vision before I helped you out of those vines, and I still…” His voice breaks. “I still put you over everything. Even me.”
His words hit me like a bullet to the heart as I realize the gravity of what he risked to help me, despite knowing the danger I pose to him in this game. Despite the threat this game makes us to each other. And as much as I want to slap his beautiful face, I want to kiss it more.
“Girls like you deserve a happy ending,” he says, before slowly walking away. He heads toward the bridge.
As I watch him go, a heavy feeling settles in my chest, and it suddenly hits me.If I let him go now, he’s never coming back.Tears blur my vision.
“Malcolm!” I cry.
He ignores me. I want to yell that boys like him deserve a happy ending too. But I know the Tether stands between any chance of joy for either of us.
This is all part of Sabine’s twisted plan—to use the Tether to sow seeds of hate, division, and violence between us, then feed off the pain and suffering so she can profit and fuel her own immortality with our blood.
Sabine’s voice echoes around us. “PLAY THE GAME!” she orders. “Or Mommy dies first.”
Rain pours down. A note on red paper that looks like melted rubies appears before me, suspended in midair. It spins in the breeze. The note’s edges are jagged, oozing crimson drops onto the dewy grass and thick fog below. Curly and elegant letters form a chilling command to me:Cross the bridge without glancing at Venus and retrieve the object on the table, or Mommy won’t be tucking anyone into bed tonight. And remember: One of you must intentionally draw blood from the other in this round or your mothers will shed theirs.
Ahead of me, Malcolm is reading a letter that appeared for him. But for once, he doesn’t show me the note or share what it says with me. My feet ache. I’m trying to keep up with his quick strides as we make our way toward the old bridge. But he doesn’t wait for me or look back to see if I am okay. He angrily stomps forward. I toss down my red message, and it morphs into a blood-colored butterfly, fluttering gracefully through the rain and heading toward the dark and ominous clouds above.
Ahead of us, I see the statue of Venus, Malcolm’s ancestor, standing by the bridge. Following the command written in the letter, I quickly look away from her stone form and her real moving hazel eyes.
Malcolm’s eyes flutter closed as he steps onto the ancient, seemingly endless winding bridge. Each wooden plank creaks and groans under his weight, causing him to stumble, but he grips the rails, refusing to fall into the dark abyss below where coiled snakes twist and show their fangs. After what feels like an eternity, Malcolm finally reaches the other side.
I trail behind him, my heart thumping with fear at the many red and black snakes hissing in the pit below. I watch as Malcolm steps onto land and inches closer to a table that waits there. It bears another note and a golden whistle that shimmers in the light of blue fireflies. The whistle’scoiled snake shape taunts me. I stand on the shaky planks of the bridge, heart racing with fear and wonder, as Malcolm gazes upon it.
He got the whistle. I guess that means he won this challenge.
I look at the snakes, their pink mouths wide and showing gleaming fangs. They hiss below the shaky bridge as I cross. I glance back at the writhing serpents crowning Venus’s hair.
