Skylar doesn’t need to ask if that’s it. She feels it—a kind of loss running through her, like there is a gradual seeping away of Astrid’s essence. There is a tiny part, though, that remains—like it will take time for it to fade completely. Time that they do not have.
Two guards are opening the door to the cage, and Skylar’s gut twists. Astrid’s face is pale.
“They must fight,” the king says to the crowd. “And one must die.”
Now. They have to go into the cage now.
Cheers fill the arena; she can hear her name being called. No one calls Astrid’s name. The only people here to root for her are on the dais—her mother, whose face is set, the bear familiar by her side, and a few of her guards.
Another flutter of panic rises in Skylar’s chest. She’s not ready. She doesn’t want to do this. Her mouth is dry, her palms clammy. But the king is ushering them forward. This is happening.
Kaida walks by her side, shifting uncertainly for the first time, a huff of smoke escaping her nostrils.
Astrid gives one last searching look behind her. Skylar can’t help copying the action—because if Zryan appears, then maybe Mjolnir will, too. But there is no sign of them in the skies.
They step into the cage. She knows it can’t be true, but it feels colder in here somehow. A sense of dread settles around her, even as she squares her shoulders, tells herself she can do this.
The king lowers his voice. “Good luck, Daughter. Do not let me down.” As if it’s him she’s fighting for.
The cage is locked, a ripple of power pulsing through the air.
The king addresses the crowd for the last time. “Only when two become one will the cage open.”
She and Astrid face each other. The cheers are louder now. This is it. They are really doing this.
She twists the ring on her finger. Cam. Above all, in this moment, it is him she wants here with her, even though it’s impossible, even though he’ll never be with her again.
And there it is, his voice, clear in her head.
You’re wrong. I’ll always be with you, Lar.
She closes her eyes, letting the sound of his voice settle through her. When she opens them, Astrid is looking back at her—Bastet by her side, Kaida right behind him as instructed. And though the Blood Binding has been reversed, she can still hear Astrid’s voice in her mind.
Are you ready, Little Dragon?
Skylar doesn’t answer. She shuts it all down, shuts Astrid out. It’s the only way she’s going to get through this.
The noise of the crowd fades away. They are unimportant, all of them. Nothing matters right now, except the person in front of her.
Skylar forces herself to strip back, to conjure the woman she knows she can be. The arrogant, selfish person Axel accused her of being. The coldhearted bitch Amara once told her she was.
Then, finally, she meets Astrid’s gaze. And she reaches for her power.
50Astrid
It’s frightening, how quickly Skylar transforms now they’re inside the vast cage. As if she’s been possessed by that terrible power. The way she starts to stalk Astrid, to circle her, pin in hand and face now devoid of any emotion; it reminds Astrid of that day in the temple when Kaida hatched. When Skylar seemed to lose all her humanity.
Skylar whips out with the pale tendrils of her power, snapping at Astrid’s feet, and she yelps, not expecting the move. Bastet roars next to her and rears as if to pounce, but Astrid flings an arm out. “No,” she hisses to her familiar, and he stalls.
The crowd is hollering, baying for blood. She glances up, unable to help herself. The stands in the arena rise so high they block out most of the sun. But it’s still abominably hot, and the sweat is already starting to seep through her silver suit.
Another lash of power strikes at her shins and she jumps back, hissing. Another lash, another hiss from Astrid. She only needs to glance at Bastet to stop him reacting.
Astrid can feel her temper rising, and welcomes it as it pushes out the nervous anxiety, the nausea. She vomited her guts up before they walked down to the arena, sick with what was about to happen, sick because her mum hadn’t been able to control her own terror and it had leaked into Astrid.
She glances at her mum and Bjorn now, realizing her mum is gesturing something. She wants Astrid to get on Bastet’s back and fly, but Astrid can’t do it. It doesn’t feel fair, not with Kaida here. The distraction costs her.
There’s a flash of silver, pain lancing across her face. She cries out,stumbling backward, clutching her face where blood now gushes along her forehead and cheek. She hears the witch queen’s yell before it’s drowned out by the great roar from the crowd as their heir draws the first blood. She wipes it away, a few dull-looking droplets splattering onto the sun-beaten ground, then draws her claws. It’s not Bastet who leaps to Astrid’s defense, though, but the dragon. Kaida is huffing smoke and whining, as if she doesn’t understand. A glimmer of something changes Skylar’s empty face briefly, but it’s gone just as quick. She must say something, because Kaida gets behind Skylar and lowers herself to the ground, eyes wide, like a child reprimanded.
