“I really couldn’t have planned this better myself.” She prances to the railing. “Now, we just have to wait for the Bronze Knight to do his job. It shouldn’t take long.”
I pull as hard as I can on the chains, getting as close as possible to the window. “Dayton!” I scream, but my voice is lost to the roar of the crowd.Look here. See me.
I’m just another face. Uncharacteristically, Dayton doesn’t even look to the crowd, doesn’t hold up his sword to their cheer. He just stares across the arena and shrugs his shoulders. “Let’s get this over with.”
The Bronze Knight, in his gleaming armor, strides forward, wielding the Lance of Valor. I feel a knot tighten in my chest. He lunges at Dayton and drives the lance down with deadly precision. The clash of steel rings out across the arena as Dayton just barely blocks him.
You idiot, I think. We weren’t sure he could take the Bronze Knight without breaking his curse, and now he’s trying it inebriated. I wish I was down there so I could smack him.
Below us, the Emperor’s Box is empty, save for the Bow of Radiance gleaming on its pedestal. Kairyn hasn’t returned. He must have traveled to the Ribs to hunt my mate.
I turn my attention back to the match. Dayton fights with reckless abandon, dual swords flashing in the sunlight, but his movements lack their usual finesse. Each blow he strikes is wild, uncontrolled, and I can see the pain etched into his features as he struggles to keep his footing.
“Come on, Day,” I urge.
Wrenley gives me a sidelong glance, as if my pain and fear are a mystery to her. The crowd roars with delight, but they don’t see it yet, how Dayton falters.
Wrenley chuckles. “I’m surprised he didn’t try to run. He must know he can’t win.”
Dayton’s cry of agony ripples through the arena as the Bronze Knight slices a red line across his back before kicking him face first to the sand. The Bronze Knight drives the lance down for another deadly blow, and Dayton rolls out of the way just in time, the lance still cutting his arm.
I can’t tear my eyes away. Every strike that lands, every bruise that blooms on his skin, feels like a dagger to my heart. I want to scream, to beg for mercy, but I’m powerless to intervene.
“No!” Tears pour from my eyes, and I’m shaking. I’m the goddamn daughter of the Queen—there has to be something I can do. But the Nightingale’s potion still runs through my veins, rendering my magic useless. Besides, in these chains I can’t use my briars to spirit me away.
A gasp sounds from the crowd as the Bronze Knight lands a devastating blow, sending Dayton crashing to the ground. My breath catches in my throat as I watch him crumple, his swords slipping from his grasp, his golden hair stained with blood.
“I think that’s my cue.” Wrenley draws the white acolyte hood over her head. “I’ll run to the sands and beg for the Blessing. With his dying breath, he’ll grant it to me.”
Rage and anger war within me. “He’ll never give it to you.”
“Oh, Rosalina, the perfect princess raised with love away from this deadly world.” Her sapphire gaze narrows. “You have no idea what it is to be truly broken. You have no idea what one will do when they’re truly desperate.”
She leaves and I’m left alone.
“Dayton,” I sob.
He lies in the middle of the sands, a drop of gold drowning in a pool of blood.
There has to be something I can do. Ineedmy magic. More than that, I need to think clearly.
How can I concentrate when so much fear and sorrow tear through me? My heart is a thundering gallop, my breath ragged. I need to calm myself, but my own mind feels out of control. I slam my eyes shut, tears streaming down my cheeks.
Anastasia SteelefromFifty Shades of Grey. The name pops into my thoughts, and I catch a deep breath. Bilbo BagginsfromThe Hobbit. Claire Fraser fromOutlander.
I may not have magic, but my stories are magic. They sheltered me from loneliness when I lived in Orca Cove, and they gave me strength when I was captured by Kairyn. Now, with each name I say in my head, I steady my breath.
When I reach Z and open my eyes, my mind feels clearer.
I need to save Dayton. To do that, I need my magic. To get my magic, I need to cure myself of the Nightingale’s potion.
Memories wash over me of when Wrenley imprisoned me in the monastery. She had so proudly bragged of her potions. They were all made of flowers.
The Queen’s greatest strength was change. She transformed a tree into a castle and barren empty land into enchanted realms. Because she created it, she was connected to all of it.Justus had told me that. My mother made the Enchanted Vale; there is a part of it within me. The sirens, the fae, the animals, and the plants. Even the flower used to make this poison.
I turn my mind’s eye inward. My body feels dark, where usually it beams with light. There’s a shadow stifling my radiance. I know this shadow well; I spent three months under its hold below the sea.
I delve deeper into the recesses of my mind, picturing myself as a warrior of light, like one of the ancestors who fought in the arena. Wielding a gleaming blade and shield, I imagine myself cutting through the shadow, loosening its hold on my magic.
