He’d sworn he would return for her tournament, to compete for her hand. Violet had spared no words to tell him a firm
no
. She had never wanted to see him again, just because she wanted to see him so badly it ached.
He had been the man, the name she had ripped from her heart – obviously not well enough. In the years that passed, she hadn’t allowed her mind to drift back to the man who had made her laugh. She’d banished those feelings with many others. A proper
calaya
didn’t miss her guards – she looked forward to her true champion.
And now he was there, against her wish. Standing before her, taller and stronger, and only inches away. For a horrified, guilty moment Violet thought he might kiss her. Horrified by the idea of Areon spoiling her for real. Guilty because a part of her wanted to lean in and take the kiss herself. They were so close she could feel his breath on her lips, but he didn’t touch her.
Instead he seemed to wake from a daze and, suddenly, Violet heard the increasingly more insistent calls.
“Oh damn,” Areon said, the smile back on his lips. “I’m late. So are you, I think. Fuck, I should have asked for directions when Forial was dragging me around like a punching bag. I’ll see you soon.”
Violet watched him run in the general direction of the arena, where a thousand voices roared. She stumbled towards her stage, ignoring the glares from the other girls and from the Overlord. As much as she could tell, Irmela’s gaze was concerned. She took her place on the stage, still obscured by light, and removed her veil.
Completely unlike her, she didn’t even check to see if her hair was alright or if the dress fell like she’d been practicing for years. Violet had planned for all of it, even spending hours before a mirror trying to figure out her best angle. Irmela had rolled her eyes at her, but she hadn’t cared. And now... Every carefully made preparation was forgotten and the ghost of the kiss she hadn’t tasted lingered on her lips.
The light disappeared and they were revealed to the crowd and the champions. No amount of willpower could have stopped her from looking for Areon in the mass. When she finally found him and their eyes met, the skip of her heartbeat confirmed everything Violet had feared.
Oh god no
, she thought.
Not you
.
CHAPTER SIX
The sky above the arena was dark and cloudless.
Areon pressed through the gathered warriors to find a spot that let him stand on his own two feet instead of on someone else’s. It brought a smile to his lips to see the sky so threatening. He couldn’t put it past the Overlord to have known the weather. It was completely within the realm of possibilities that the bastard had chosen this particular night to hamper their vision.
With seven
calayas
in play, no one expected it to be easy.
He had to admit that the meeting with Violet had shaken him a bit. In all the long years, he’d never really forgotten the incident that had gotten him banished, far from it, really. From time to time, it came back to him more vividly, but never like that – no wonder, with Violet so close to him as to almost be in his arms.
He couldn’t let it distract him. Not with a very pissed Overlord, a deadly arena and quite a few very dangerous men standing around him with sharp blades and their minds on the prizes.
Speaking of which, it seemed that Violet had finally made it to the stage as well. A grin tugged Areon’s lips upwards at the idea of making a
calaya
late for her own tournament. A victory of its own? Quite so.
He watched with all the rest as the lights surrounding the girls faded, leaving only enough illumination for them to see the prizes.
His silent gasp was drowned out by the collective intake of breath. It was loud enough to be heard although no one in particular made much noise – quite a few had forgotten to close their mouths, it seemed.
Areon was thankful for the run-in with Violet. It prepared him, just a bit, for the full impact. Even so, he couldn’t tear his eyes away – not that he wanted to.
All seven were beautiful. It felt ridiculous to say that about girls who were born to be maddening, but it was still the only apt word. In truth, no one said anything. All of their feelings would be channeled to the edges of the blades and the bottomless drive, fighting to claim one of them as their own.
No doubt all seven were gorgeous beings, but Areon knew every man present had their eyes set on one. He cast a look at all of the girls from the corner of his eye. The glimpses had not been enough, but the introductions seemed to have done them justice. Halley smiled, while Pearl grinned. Lavie could barely contain her enthusiasm. Marelle seemed serious and Maige was searching the crowd for her favorite. Olive drew most of the attention, it seemed. She really was an otherworldly beauty. No wonder her parents had hidden her away.
Even so, Areon’s attention belonged to Violet alone.
It wasn’t something he’d have shared with anyone, but people talked and rumors got around. And what he’d heard of her in the recent years was fairly unanimous – the sweet girl he’d known had turned into an uptight bitch.
Possibly so. Quite possibly true, even. Only, that the girl who stood on the stage now was more reminiscent of the Violet he remembered. Areon had heard many stories about how she never went out with even a single curl of her hair out of place. Yet, there she was, more beautiful and radiant than ever. All the men who’d doubted whether her beauty was worth the trouble of her personality were now caught in her net. Almost as many looked at her as they did Olive. Maybe even more, Areon wasn’t sure.
He was still staring. Violet’s long hair was loose, falling in soft silky blonde waves over her bare shoulders, the strand of violet playfully apart from the rest. She was perfectly built, a true
calaya –
long legs and mouth-watering curves, alabaster skin and a waist that was begging for his hands around it. The dress she wore, now set free from the heavy fall of veils, left almost nothing to the imagination. Areon’s eyes traced the path of pearls on the dress, following along the lines he longed to trail with his tongue. He didn’t doubt for a moment that it was intentional.
But what really kept his gaze fixed on Violet was her face. It was clear she too was still shaken. Her mouth was open, her lush pink lips parted. Not even all the lights combined could shine as brightly as her dark green eyes, sparkling with emotion, staring straight at him.
In short, she looked almost exactly like she had three years ago. Only then she’d been a girl, now a woman.
Areon
knew
what had to be coming. The Overlord wouldn’t let the opportunity to catch the champions off guard and thin out their ranks pass. He had to keep his mind clear, but it was very difficult.
The thing was, Violet was wrong. A
calaya
wasn’t at her prettiest slicked and proper. She was devastating when she was
wild
. Three years ago, with Violet’s hair billowing out on the floor under her and her eyes flashing, Areon had been powerless. In all his life, not a single thing had been more excruciating than getting up and leaving the touch of that beauty. And there it was again, now mixed with clear desire. No wonder he ached for her now more than ever, the strain of his erection painful enough in his pants to warrant serious consideration.
Areon knew quite well that that was how men died. Nothing distracted the champions like the prizes they competed for.
Son of a bitch,
he thought.
You’re going to get me killed for real, Violet.
He felt the ground vibrate so slightly that for a moment he dismissed it as a figment of his imagination. Then it did it again.
Hah?
The arena itself was huge – a circular area covered in metal plates. Areon had arrived in such a hurry that he’d completely forgotten to take in his surroundings.
How careless of me
.
At first, he’d thought the disparate floor was merely a part of the first trial, meant to make them stumble and fall before their opponents. Treacherous flooring wouldn’t have been a new idea in the tournaments. One year the champions had fought between razor sharp blades, where every simple tumble meant death or loss of a limb.
This was much worse.
It was almost impossible to rip his eyes from Violet’s, but if he wanted to see those deep green pools again, he had to live. While most of his competitors were still caught up with the
calayas
, Areon turned his eyes down to the floor instead. The audience sitting in raised circles around them probably didn’t see the danger the floor posed. The shaking was still minimal.
When the chains on the floor rattled ever so quietly, a few others came to life. It seemed the famous champions caught on – at the last possible moment too.
Connected
, was the last thought that seared through Areon’s mind before the floor dropped away from under them.
The entire arena fell to the chorus of the audience’s collective scream. The
calayas
screamed too. Suddenly there were much less contestants.
“Whoooah, whoah...” Areon mumbled, trying to balance himself on one of the few support beams that remained of the floor. There were six of them, as much as he could see, supporting the wide net of chains between them and the arena’s edge.
Beneath them, where the floor had just been, was practically nothing but screams. The sky was dark above and the chasm was dark below. The only illumination still shone upon the
calayas
, whose faces had gone very pale. No wonder, surely a quarter of the champions had just dropped... somewhere. Areon was sure there actually
was
a bottom, but it couldn’t have been a pleasant impact.
Nice
, he thought.
A fitting start. A grim reminder that we didn’t sign up for a fun event. I’d be more impressed if I hadn’t just almost dropped to my death, though.
Through the lights, he could just make out the Overlord, sitting on a high podium, observing the arena with lazy interest.
You wonderful bastard
, Areon sent a compliment to him in his mind, sitting down on the beam. It was barely wide enough for him to put both his feet on it, but he could sit. Around him, the champions hung by the chains. A few had climbed to the beams and were resting like him. No one seemed particularly mad. In a tournament, everything but murder was fair game. Though Areon could raise an argument of the first trial treading the line.
The Overlord seemed to be fully aware of that. He rose from his seat to address the stunned audience and the champions below.
“You all know why you’re here,” he said, his voice carrying easily to every corner of the arena. “A
calaya
is a true prize for a real warrior. You don’t just swing your swords for them – you suffer, you bleed. You fight with everything you have and give all you’ve got. Then you might be worthy of one of them.”
He paused to let his words sink in. “So this is not a usual tournament. The prizes are great, and so must be your sacrifice. You have only one task in my trials.”
His cold black eyes took them all in. “
Survive
.”
Huh. Easy and catchy. Bit of a bummer, though.
While the others struggled to reach the beams and the arena’s edges for a surer handhold, Areon took in his competition. It truly was a parade of champions.
All of the favorites had survived this first surprise – no wonder. It would have been really disappointing to see them go like that. Forial was perched on top of another beam not too far from Areon, observing him with a cruel smile.
You warned him
, Areon thought, more amused than mad. The Overlord must have given his favorite at least a hint, if not the actual layout of the arena. His positioning had been too perfect, too impossibly steady for him not to have known.
Like that baseborn mutt needed any favors
.
Forial’s gaze was still on him, clearly expecting him to fall soon. But the luck of demons hadn’t left Areon yet.
God you have all the warmth of a knife in the back
, he thought and moved on to the next survivors.
Maige wasn’t crying, but she was staring intently to one side of the arena. That meant Ronay was alive too, somewhere. All fine. Reim had just reached the edge of the arena and was catching a breath, while more others followed.
The spider web was still taking its toll though. Areon had no desire to try it out, but it seemed the chains were slippery. Quite a few lost their grip while trying to get to safety.
Is it too much to hope there is a cushy landing below? Knowing the Overlord… Probably.
He tried to figure out how many would quit after that event. The tournaments also had that rule. Between trials, you could leave the running to your betters and crawl back home. It usually didn’t happen, but the Overlord had outdone himself. Then again, the
calayas
were outstandingly beautiful. The lesser champions would probably give way, but Areon didn’t see Forial or Ronay withdrawing.
To his right, a chain was hanging very low. Something huge and dark dangled from it. Areon slowly rotated on his beam to see better and then wished he hadn’t.
It was a wonder, really, that he hadn’t seen Grom before. With the floor and the
calayas
and Violet and the Overlord, he’d missed the champion.
Grom was... well, an asshole really. All Atreen warriors were naturally big, but Grom dwarfed them all. He looked like someone had carved him straight out of a cliff, but had forgotten to polish the edges. He was huge and square, the baldness of his head making him look even more threatening. His eyes were the worst, lacking even a hint of mercy.
He made Forial seem like a cheerful guy and the Overlord a kind and merciful man. They also said he made the Raider Prince look like a fool swinging a stick around.
Grom’s skills with a sword were legendary. If the Overlord had been younger, they’d be the duel of the ages. And there he was, stubbornly refusing to die. Areon regarded him with a frown. Grom was not considered a fun method of dying.