At last, the intimidating Harbinger cracked a smile.
By the end of the week, Alora walked easily among them.
Her fingers bore the first roughness of calluses, her muscles sore and lean. Training had changed the way she carried herself. She breathed differently now. Stood differently. Even the Harbingers had begun to fall into step beside her as if she belonged.
When the day’s drills ended, they headed together toward her chambers.
But Alora veered from the familiar corridor, no wanting to return to confinement yet.
“My lady,” Hadeon warned, already reaching for her arm. “We must?—”
“Not yet.” She easily slipped past him, thanks to his instruction.
Alora followed the echo of roars and cheers rolling through the stone, eager to see what excitement the demons were up to.
Calla groaned. “By the Abyss. Sire won’t be pleased.”
“He cannot keep her oblivious forever,” Deimos muttered. “She should know the customs of his domain.”
“Know what?”
The corridor opened onto a high balcony overlooking the main court hall. Heat and noise surged upward, thick with ironand sweat. Below, demons packed the stone floor in a heaving mass, their voices rising in a frenzy as two figures clashed at the center.
Two demons battled each other. Claws, and teeth, viciously tearing into flesh.
One demon was massive, broad-shouldered and armored in the crest of the Wrath Court, his skin the same reddish hue as Hadeon’s. The other was lean and quick, all sinew and speed, darting in and out with flashing blades.
Alora shifted back, the force of their vicious blows beating against her chest. “What is happening?”
“Vahl’Tor,”Deimos intoned, his voice dropping into the rough pitch of Hellspeech.
She looked at him, confused.
Hadeon’s jaw tightened. “It is what we call a challenge bound in blood. For territory. For dominance. For mates. For the right to eat. Even to rut. When demons invokeVahl’Tor, the other must answer. Refusal marks one a coward.” He glanced down at the carnage below. “Amidst the court of demons, that is worse than death.”
The Wrath demon caught his opponent mid-lunge and slammed him to the ground and tore off his legs. Horrid screams echoed in her ears.
Alora covered her mouth, certain it was over.
It was not.
With a roar that shook the hall, the Wrath demon wrenched his opponent’s head free. Blood sprayed the stone. The crowd erupted, howling approval as the body dissolved to ash.
“He had already won,” she said, vomit threatening to come up her throat. “Why not show mercy?”
Calla’s voice came cool and certain beside her, her softly glowing eyes on the spectacle. “Winning by mercy is no victory.And surviving defeat after a challenge…” Her lip curled faintly. “We would rather burn in the sun.”
The roar below rose again, and Alora understood their lesson with a sickening clarity. This was not chaos.
It was order.
Mercy was a kindness of the weak and weakness was a death sentence.
Here with the monsters, she could already feel herself changing, shedding softness day by day.
No, Alora refused to forget who she was.
The shadows at her feet recoiled, as if answering her irritation. Calla’s brow lifted but said nothing at all as Alora turned away and returned to her chambers.
