Page 13 of Wolf Trial

“Names are meaningless anyway,” Reed replied, every word a blunt weapon. She took a piece of paper out of her bra and barked, “Which one are you?”

“Sadie,” I replied quickly, not wanting to draw her ire lest she volunteer to fight me instead of one of the lower-ranked slayers. “Sadie Blackhouse.”

“Sadie will do.” She clicked her fingers at Lawrence, and snorted when he provided his full name, noting it down along with Paige’s. “And you?”

“Elix,” I offered when my friend’s signed reply got a blank look from our tutor. “Her name’s Elix.”

“Elixir,” Reed muttered, scratching something on her paper. I gave Elix a look; her name was Elixir, and she called herself Elix? I’d never shut up about it if I was called Elixir. I wanted to say something about that, but when Reed put her paper away and regarded us, I snapped my mouth shut.

“Right then, what are you waiting for?” she barked. “One of you, get in an arena. I don’t care who goes first, or which arena you choose, just get inside a damn circle.”

“Lawrence should go first,” I said politely, smiling at the pompous prick. “Since he’s the highest ranked socially.” When he glared at me, I added, “Your father works in parliament, doesn’t he?”

His eyes narrowed, and if I hadn’t earned myself an enemy in him last night, I certainly did now.

“Thank you for volunteering for the first fight, Smartass,” Reed said, marching over to grab my arm and tow me towards the ring. “It shows real courage to offer yourself as the first opponent.”

“I didn’t,” I protested.

Reed’s smirk became a lopsided grin. “I don’t disagree about Lawrence,” she said so he could hear her. “He’s a haughty brat by all accounts. But since you were the first to open your mouth, you’re the first to fight. Now choose your arena.”

I eyed the flattened bit of grass she’d led me to, and the others arranged around it. Six in total, all surrounded by a pebbled border. Like the seating area around a firepit in someone’s back garden, minus the fire pit. And the seats.

“They’re all the same,” I pointed out.

Reed raised her eyebrows. “Then there’ll be no consequences for choosing badly.”

I glanced back at Elix and Paige for help. The latter gave me a double thumbs up and a wince. The former… Elix was looking at the stone rings, at the stones themselves. She met my eyes and deliberately looked at the arena two across from the one Reed had led me to.

The trainer laughed as I walked through the grass between arenas and only hesitated a split second before stepping inside the one Elix indicated. I better be able to trust that woman. If I was betrayed by my gran and my newly minted bestie in less than twenty-four hours, my trust would never recover.

“Surly, you’re up,” Reed barked at the line of slayers waiting to fight us.

“It’s Suri,” a woman with tawny skin replied, her voice as sharp as a razor. She strode towards where I waited inside the circle, her movements loose and sure, black hair braided down her back almost as tightly as Reed’s hair.

Like the others, she was dressed in dark, tight fitting clothes. Nothing loose that might get tangled, or caught by an opponent. I was suddenly glad for the well-stocked drawers in my new room, because the black jeans and long-sleeved shirt I’d thrown on, half asleep, would work in a fight a lot more than my damn work uniform. My hair, though… falling loose around my shoulders as it was, it’d be so easy to grab a fistful and rip it out.

A quick glance at my wrist showed Ezren hadn’t thought to confiscate my hair band like he had my phone. Or maybe Gran had kept that to pawn for more tequila sunrises. As Suri strode closer, in no hurry, the wait making my nerves keen enough to cut me, I ripped the bobble off my wrist and tied my hair back.

A low ooh went through the crowd, and I blinked. Huh. Maybe putting my hair up was a power move.1

I assessed Suri as she stepped over the pebbled outline of the arena—the space was no more than twelve feet across, which put her unsettlingly close—but I had no idea what to look for. She certainly moved like a killer, all smooth motion and loose arms. It was hard to believe she was one of the worst fighters in the academy, and that her head was on the chopping block, not mine.

No, wait, I stand corrected. This was a fight to the death, so we were both mincemeat.

It occurred to me as Reed barked at a crowd member trying to get a closer look, keeping our audience several feet back, that this was a fight to the death. I’d been a little fixated on the likelihood that these were my final few minutes on Earth,2 and it didn’t hit me until right now that if I wanted to survive, I had to kill someone.

“This can’t be right,” I muttered, shaking my head as Suri rotated her shoulder, then her wrists. She didn’t attempt to trash talk me, which was nice, instead keeping a steely, silent exterior, which was less nice. To Reed I said, “If you need slayers so badly you’re kidnapping us from other worlds, surely you need both of us. A fight to the death is a waste of life.”

“A bad slayer is a waste of life,” she replied, frowning as Sidonie paced closer, over some invisible line Reed had decided was close enough. Her sister looked concerned for both of us within the circle, but I noticed she didn’t step in to plead my case, or Suri’s. Like I thought: complicit.

“Begin,” Reed barked.

Begin what? I wanted to shout. I’ve never fought anyone in my life!3 But the ground changed under my feet, suddenly shifting, loose like sand. But from the corner of my eye, I saw it was grey.

Dust? Or ashes from the bones of slayers who’d be murdered here?

Suri lunged at me. I stumbled backwards, throwing up my hands in pure instinct to knock her arm aside.