♔ 𝔑𝔦𝔯𝔞 ♔
Teeth scrape my back, and I bite down on my scream as I roll backwards, bringing Urani with me, and push him into the beasts mouth with a hard kick of my feet. It forces the basilisk to recoil, and I take the opportunity to roll from beneath it, crying out at the agony of the open wounds over my shoulder blades.
Its a white, blinding heat, dizzying almost, but I focus myself, pulling the sword from Urani's sheath before he disappears into the mouth with a sickening crunch of bones.
My eyes are shut as I run behind its head, heaving a breath as I jam the sword into its neck. It screeches , hissing as it fights to dislodge the weapon, but I am already taking advantage of the leverage. Hoisting myself to its back, I pray that Disanye and Calix can hold off my brother and Zaire enough for me to not be their target.
I scramble towards its head, fingers curved deep into its scales to keep myself upon its back as it thrashes, the force of it curling back my nail beds.
With my body curved around its horns, I wrestle for my last arrow, jamming the iron point deep into its remaining eye, pushing past ever resisting layer of sinew and muscle.
I can barely hold myself on the beast as it wails, throwing its head around in agony, attempting to knock me and the arrow from it. It is with a growl of perseverance I hold myself on there, each limb wrapped around its largest horn, chin ducked to avoid the whiplash it is bound to give me. It shows no sign of settling, spinning around to chase the noise of the fighting four, and I am at its entire mercy as I watch it approach.
"Disanye!" I screech, and she spins at the call, baring no mind as she tosses a knife in my direction. A long blade with a small handle, spinning so quickly I barely have the time to duck and avoid it. It beds itself into the hide beside me, and I brave unwrapping an arm to yank it free.
Poisonous crimson blood spills from the open wound, bubbling with the venom that courses within it. I lean forward, peering into the bludgeoned holes where its eyes once sat, barely disguising my shiver of disgust as, for the first time, I look at its face.
Ghastly. Two slits for a nose, and a mouth larger than any of its other features. Teeth that curl upwards, lethal spikes that warn me to keep my balance else I face being impaled. It is covered in blood, that of its own and the competitors it has devoured. The arrow shaft inches upwards, and I know it is trying to find me.
In its blindness, it does not see how I bring the blade down at the soft point between its eyes. The blade sinks, almost to the hilt, and I bare all of my weight on to it until it twists upwards.
The basilisk roars, but I persevere, and I feel the bowing resistance of the last layer of protection until the blade pierces its brain. The beast flops to the ground, the thudding impact enough to quake the trees.
I bow atop it, panting, relishing in the horn that blows. My back burns with agony, calf and arm too, but all I can think of is how how quickly I must heal before the third task tomorrow. How could it get any harder than this?
The fighting stops, all four of them allowed to live another day, however short it might be. "My knife, made fae." Disanye orders, and I glower at her before I pull it free. She comes close, bracing herself against the basilisk's head, and then holds out her other hand for the knife. I barely hear the whisper. "I am going to step down from the competition."
"Why?"
"Because I do not think I can kill you, as much as I might want to." My eyes narrow. "When these cuffs are off, my song will be returned to me. I can make it so others have the same catharsis. That will send you straight to the final task."
I spare a glance to the three males, Calix quick approaching. "And for how long will you sing? Without your influence, they might well change their minds."
"They will not be allowed to rescind their decision once it is done." She angles her head. "So who would you rather fight for the crown? Your brother, enemy, or lover?"
♔
There is little need for the hunt - the third task - with only the two that remain. We have gained a nights rest - the penultimate celebration - and the day to follow will be the end. A battle between a made Fae and a born one, likely to the death. I cannot die. Refuse to. The start of my revenge truly begins here. Claiming the crown that ruined me, to rule the kind that hated me even before the horror I have become.
As I dress myself for the evening of celebration, I yearn for Sloan, remembering the last time I was in this position. Only six months ago, and yet somehow it feels like a lifetime. A time in which I have not stopped fighting for my survival, for my life, even though I have proved time over that I deserve to keep it. Six months where I have fought against those who claim to love me, or should do so deeply and intrinsically that they could never dream to hurt me, beneath the order of their head or their heart. And yet, somehow, my greatest challenge is those that share my blood.
My father's orchestration of my attempted murder should not be ignored, no matter how pathetic of an attempt it was, because I do not doubt that he will try again. It is clear to see that he considers me a threat to Darin's rule, and the potential to regain this land, and whatever poison he has spewed seems to have been enough to convince my brother of the same.
My thoughts revisit the words of Calix more often than I would like to admit. How strange it is for Darin to behave this way. Would he have tried so hard to beg me to stay, for mercy, if he thought it best to kill me to earn his way? Would he have wept with me in his arms if he considered me so much of a threat? He had ample opportunity when my guard was down in Xandara to kill me, when I would not have even considered to fight him. What words could have convinced my brother so quickly, so powerfully, that he seems to not even darken with shadows of regret as he pulls his weapons on me.
I think even I could admit, to draw a weapon on the brother I have missed, the one I would mourn, would see me riddled with a pre-emptive sort of grief. To kill him, as I may have to, might be the heaviest burden I would have to carry.
Tomorrow, it will come to a head. I will gain this throne, and the vengeance I sought for the human form I once held will be paid. But then, it will not stop there. All actions come with consequence, and I do not think I stopped to consider what might come next. Combat with a single enemy is but a performance, a competition with several just a spectacle, but war with a Realm and its Ruler - it is devastation. Destruction. Worse, I do not think it is all that unlikely.
Part of me misses the simplicity. The naive optimism that I would fight against a Fae and return home to my family. A family that is now lost and I will likely never see again, leaving me more estranged than I ever was before. Some of me wonders what would have become of me if I had not fought. I would not be here now, an absence of friends at my side. Sloan is dead, Cenred a spy, and Ezekiel a betrayer. I would have been miserable, afraid, but I am not much better off now.
Alone. Scared.
I know what I want, I know how I must earn it, but I dread what will become of me if I lose. I fear what will come next should I not.
The last action of preparation sees me fix the bundle of my braid at the nape of my neck with pins. The blonde is slick to my skull, wisps curling over my brow with an everlasting defiance against expectation. I have not mucked my face with their war paint, there is no koel that lines my eyes or berry juice to stain my lips and cheeks. I am much how they found me - a plain girl fighting for her right to live, to protect those she loves, scattered with the scars to prove it.
I study my reflection, waiting for the truth to show itself. That I am different now. A Fae, a killer, a cursed being that should not exist. That the girl I was died and something new stands in her place. Yet, beneath the layered offcuts of black fabric that clings to my frame, the fixtures of gold that curl over my shoulders and crawl down my front, the last two knives strapped to my thigh, right where my fingers rest, I am quite the same as I was. As Sloan and Calix assured. That though what image of reflection meets my eyes, I think I was always bound for this.
It was always going to be my fate.
That makes it so easy to lift the hood over my hair and leave the room. For in the end, it was always going to be this. Hungry for vengeance, hungrier still for power, and starving for a life where I do not have to fear it will be taken from me.
The throne room is ominously quiet. An undercurrent of tension radiates from the crack between the closed doors. This is new to them too - a competition of such powerful Fae, yes, but the drawback of so many competitors that it removes a task entirely.
Th end has come almost too soon, and the bated breaths only assure that no one is prepared for what will happen next.
No one waits to open the door for me. All policies have been forgotten amidst the secret stratagem between Disanye and I. I wonder if she waits in the crowd, itching for tomorrow to see the fight I have manipulated for my own benefit. I wonder if she stands with those who were once my competitors before I stole them the opportunity to take the throne for their own.
I wonder many things as I open the doors, especially when I had become so cowardly to avoid the anger from my lacking diplomacy from those I had assured could trust me.
Even beneath the hood, I notice Libitina first, and the fury of her expression second. She looks prepared to wring my neck, or at the very least, sink her teeth into it, but she makes no effort to move. I doubt it to be because Tynan holds her back, for she could fight that frail grasp easily, but I figure it more to be the fact that her Lord already stalks towards me.
I groan with frustration, straightening my spine as I pace forward. The sooner I stand on that dais and show myself as a finalist, the sooner I can return to the blissful ignorance that comes with avoiding Calix.
Once the cuffs were removed and Disanye began her song, I escaped to the company of Vasami and the bairns, sheltered beneath her wing from the cool prickle of the night air. I had not predicted I would fall asleep until the early hours of this morning, but then, I also made no move to return to the shared room where Calix was bound to be. I stayed with the wyvern's until my stomach growled with hunger in the early afternoon, and even then, I drained myself a concerning amount to imposter as an unremarkable Seelie on my return to the Royal Court House. I didn't bother to drop the facade until after I had cleaned myself, and I knew Calix was far away drinking to nurse his embarrassment.
It seems he has no desire to let me get so far now, his hand gripping my wrist so tightly it is bound to bruise.
I spin to face him, hood shielding my eyes. "Unhand me." The words travel on a hiss so animalistic that even Calix seems to flinch.
"You had her hypnotise me?" He tugs me as if to exclaim his words, and I all but stumble into his chest.
"I did suggest that you should stay away from her Calix. It is not my fault you chose not to heed my warning." I snatch my hand from him, a slight rush of fear sweeping through me as I notice the rage that swamps his expression.
"I did not think it would because you would use her to betray me." He comes closer, his tone thick with disappointment as he spits out the next words. "We had a deal."
"And much good it would have been if we had to endure another task." His jaw tightens. "Did you not see my wounds? Do you think I do not see yours?"
"It makes little difference."
"It makes all the difference you fool. Now, you survive because I have kept you -" I swallow the last word before my emotion lets it materialise into the reality. That I wanted him safe, away from the competition. That I took Disanye's offer because I doubted I could survive another task, let alone two. That each day it burdens me that should I die, so will he.
"Kept me what? In the dark? Kept me from your truths after you demand I confess all of mine?" He snarls.
"I have kept you alive, Calix. I would not have lasted another two tasks. Now I barely have to last two days. We still both win. Is it so difficult for you to understand?"
His hands come to my throat, the squeeze tight but not enough for me to be concerned. His thumbs run across my jaw. "I could kill you for this."
"If it is worth anything, I hope I am still alive by tomorrow for you to still have that opportunity." His hold becomes tighter.
"You live for me." The words are lost on a breath.
"I wish I had not made that so." He draws back, fingers pausing on the mark he left on my neck all those weeks ago, tying our lives together.
I wish I had trusted him without needing that scar.
It does not take much fight to pull from his hold, and he does not follow as I march towards the dais.
I feel eyes linger on my figure as I move. My eyes stay forward, not daring to stray into the crowd and spot those that watch. Cenred is somewhere, smart enough to know I must have done something to reach this outcome. Ezekiel too, though I bet he is shaking with far more trepidation that the former. Others too, knowing just how intimate this final task is bound to be. They all know our history, know what we are - what we were - and just have gruesome this end could be. They know I do not plan to display mercy, and I can guess they know my opponent will offer none either.
Part of me wishes I could manipulate him with the lingering memories or what we used to be. Knowing somewhere, he will care, deep down. In the end, will he really try to kill me, if I ever meant anything to him at all? Though, he never claimed to be kind, and I was warned so often of his mercilessness.
The look in Zaire's eyes as I reach him on that dais assures that I should have believed them.
He has always wanted this throne. It was his plan, and I was his pawn, almost as soon as I arrived in Vrodora. He might have changed some minor details on the way, but this was always going to be the end he wished to reach. I muddled it, reacted in a way that he did not expect, that tested his patience and morality, but he is so close to the victory he wished for. I helped him get this close, chose him to be my final competitor.
I think there will be no sweeter revenge for me than to let him get so close to the thing he desired and then, the being he claimed to love, be the one to steal him of it.
He offers me a hand, one which I ignore, as I reach the steps. I climb alone, unaided, and stand at his side, distant enough that the space between us is cold and empty. He's watching me, with about as much keenness as the crowd, but I do not let myself look at him. I am not too sure I'd have the ability to contain myself.
I am so close. So close to making him pay. For what he did to me, and for what he did to Sloan. For what he will do to others if I let him win that throne.
"I always underestimated your deviousness." He muses.
"How so?"
"Using the Siren to force this outcome. Cleverer than I could have ever given you credit for."
"That was always your downfall, Zaire. You always doubted me and just what I was prepared to do to save myself." A soft sort of laugh escapes me. "I think if you had actually paid attention to my capabilities at all, I would not have even had the opportunity to stand here now. I'd have still be warded in that room you thought you could keep me in forever."
"It would not have been forever." He says it as though it is any sort of consolation. "It was to protect you."
"It was to protect you from the consequences of your actions." I finally let my eyes skate across the crowds. "I suppose you feel you need protection often though, if you found the appeal in an alliance with my brother." I do not see him. That, for some reason, makes me more nervous than I care to admit. In his attempts, with the corruption of my father, I doubt he would give up on murdering me so easily.
"Darin was a fortunate arrival. I predicted that you could have turned Riyan and Rorik against me quickly if you found the time to spill your truths." He hums with an undercurrent of what might be approval. "I saw what you did to the pair of them. Dare say I was impressed."
"They got what they deserved. As will you. Darin isn't here to protect you now." I return calmly.
He pauses, but I know better than to think I have stunned him to silence. The prick always had to have the last word. "You are changing the way you speak. Lacking a certain eloquence that you used to have when you were just human." He takes a moment to consider. "Forcing your words together, like the demon and Tynan."
"Their character has clearly started to rub off on me."
"I suppose you did your fair share of practicing, considering that you preferred to imposter as the Succubus rather than face me."
"I am not pretending to be her now."
"And yet you will still not face me." It sounds like a goad, and like a fool, I take the bait. He stares at me, eyes darting left to right, up and down, as he swallows in the harsh lines of my frown, the furrow of my brows and the burning resentment in my light eyes. "There you are."
"Make it last. After tomorrow, you'll never get a look at me again."
"And despite it all, I do not think I can put into words how much I will miss you."
"That is a misplaced confidence Zaire. It almost sounds as though you think you might be the one left alive." I whisper.
He lifts a hand, brings it to cup my cheek, and I sidestep the touch as soon as I notice his attempt. His fist clenches beside my head, an odd sort of emotion striking his features before he manages to bury it down. "I have been a Fae since I was born, with power I have honed for years. You were made mere months ago, and your fits and outbursts do not constitute for practice."
"Then you did not pay enough attention to what I did to Riyan and Rorik. There was nothing Fae about the way I killed them. It was entirely human, and if I have it my way, the way I kill you will be entirely human too."
"That is almost poetic. I kill your human form, and you bring it back to kill me."
"She deserves that much justice, just as I think you are owed that much destruction to your dignity." He smiles, and it infuriates me more than any words could, before he regards the crowd before us.
"Tomorrow, I will fight the made Fae to win the throne. Place your faith in me, than I shall be the one to win, a Fae who will rule for greatness, and not one who will rule for revenge." He takes a step away, exposing me his back, and I cannot refrain the desperate need to inflict the beginning of his suffering.
My fingers tear the knife from its sheath, and I flick it so it spirals towards the top of his spine. The blade bounces from his skin like it is made of rubber and not iron.
He regards me over his shoulder with a smile grander than the one he left with. Slowly, he raises his sleeve to show me his arm. One scattered with the marks that Sloan taught me.
"You underestimate me too, Huntress. Did you think I would forget the last male who stood up here beside you, and how that dagger skimmed his arm?" He covers the wards with a satisfaction that oozes from him. "I have watched you play these games before, Nira. I know just what to expect from you, and just how to make sure it does not hurt me."
He leaves, and I remain perplexed o the dais. A fragile part of me, one searching for an extension of support, sees me look back out on to the crowd. I find Cenred first, his stern nod that I take to be assurance before he follows his Lord. Calix then, who stands with Tynan and Libitina, all of which make no move to leave before I do. Then Disanye, who, with folded arms, lowers her head slightly. Not in respect - no, I doubt that is a feeling she will ever harbour towards me - but it feels more like comradery. The support I feel as though I need.
I just wish it was not so distant, because for the first time since I made that promise to Cenred, I am not sure that I will be able to do what needs to be done.
Not because I do not wish it, but because even know, after so many months apart, Zaire remains to be one step ahead of me. Every single time.