I agree, then stand and grab a map of Tenenocti. One I used to study, when I was younger and more daring, to figure out where the rare plants would be for my poisons if I ever attempted such a trip. But now, as I roll it out and place weights on each corner, my greatest fear is realized—we’re planning the route to survive The Harvest.
I suppress my thoughts away from the possibility of losing them and instead channel all my focus into what matters right now: their survival.
They lean over as I circle the area around the collection of abandoned buildings near the shoreline, where they’ll disembark. “Stay away from here. It’s the first hiding spot, and the other chosen will expect you to go there.” Slowly, I guide my fingertip up over the forest to the narrow river separating the island with two small bridges. “If you can get to this side of the island first, Drake can destroy this bridge,” I explain, pointing to the first bridge at the south of the island. I look at Arabella. “He’ll be weak after, so you will need to guide him here.” I land over a temple. “It’s Azkiel’s temple.”
Ari nods. “A temple of the Gods,” she states, her eyes widening.
Drake shakes his head, pointing at the bridges. “How do we know someone hasn’t destroyed the bridge already? How old is this map?”
I chew on the inside of my cheek. “I don’t know, but you know how rare animation magic is. It’s the only thing that can create chains strong enough to destroy them.” I point and the bridges. “They’re made of stone.”
Arabella brings her fingers to a steeple, as if in prayer, then rests her chin on her fingertips when she looks at Drake. “What if I can’t carry you?”
He gives her a half-smile. “You won’t need to. I’ll be able to walk, but I might just need a little help, okay?”
She nods, then glances back at the map. “What about the other bridge?”
I shake my head. “You won’t have time to destroy both. By the time you reach the ruins, it’ll be morning. You’ll rest there, then hope it rains,” I say, thankful that we’re in the rainiest part of the world. “Collect water with leaves from the trees and drink nothing from that river. It runs from the Black Sea and the dead will be waiting in those waters too.”
We both turn as Ari sucks in a deep breath, shaking her head as she steps backward.
“I can’t do this,” she says, her voice raising an octave. “I’m going to die. I am. There’s twelve of us, and I can’t ask Drake to die, not for me. This can’t be happening. Father was supposed to protect us. It wasn’t meant to be me.” Tears squeeze through her closed lids, and my heart heavies as the reality of The Harvest crashes down on her. “I can’t kill anyone. I won’t do it.”
Swallowing hard, I stand, then hurry over to her, the carpet muffling my heavy steps. I hold her tight and whisper, “You’re not doing anything wrong by doing this. It’s for the gods, right?” I say, holding the disdain back from my tone as I withdraw enough to wipe her tears with the back of my hand, just like I did when we were children. “They want this to happen, so it’s not murder. Not really. We need the tournament so we can find our next elder,” I say, repeating words my father has spoken many times, but now I need her to believe them, even if I don’t. “And Drake…” I say and slowly turn my head, bile biting up my throat, “he can take care of himself.”
“I’m not strong enough,” she croaks. “Everyone knows it. Alaric smiled when my name was called.”
Drake steps forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. “He’s arrogant and that will only help us. Remember, with each person we kill, we’ll inherit their powers, too.” He glances from her to me, determination threading those green eyes. “If we can pick off the weakest ones first, those powers combined will give us enough magic to take down Alaric and Marsilia.”
“No.” Arabella pulls away, distancing herself from us, her eyes tracking us as if we’re the monsters. “I can’t kill anyone.”
“Drake?” I croak, turning to him. We both know Arabella will keep to her word. Even in life and death situations, she won’t kill, and I’m fucking terrified for her.
His pained expression matches my own, and we look in time to watch her leave the room, her sobs echoing as she closes the door, her sobs quaking from the corridor.
He lets out a heavy sigh. “I won’t let her die.”
“I know,” I respond, but we both know what my worry is. Because even if they somehow survive and Drake kills them all, she won’t take his life. The only way to win is siphon all the powers of the covens, and murder is the only way to do it.
Drake’s hands are around my waist in a heartbeat, pulling my head against his shoulder. His grip tightens as he lowers his head to rest against the top of mine, and everything inside of me falls apart.
“I should go say goodbye to my family,” Drake whispers, and my heart pounds. “If I don’t see you again—”
“You will,” I promise, as the idea I’ve been forming since The Choosing grows with increasing clarity. “Somehow,” I add, as suspicion crumples his forehead.
I watch him leave, then close my eyes. There is no way I am letting them die. Even if it kills me.
EIGHTEENAzkiel
Dephina is the first to approach me on the shore of the Black Sea. Vaknor, Everist, and two other elders follow her through the tree line of Morcidea Forest.
“Azkiel, God of Death.” Dephina’s raspy tone sounds from behind as she steps into my view, standing in front of one of the twelve boats tied to stakes hammered into the ground. Beyond her, and across the sea, the island is a silhouette against the setting sun.
“What do you want?” I ask, impatience lacing my tone.
She clears her throat, running a hand over her long, blonde braid. “The traitor, Drake Redding—”
“What about him?” I cut her off with a snarl.
“We do not wish for him to win.”
I stare at her, fingers flexing at my side. “You dare question me? Your god!” I shout, and Dephina takes a hesitant step back.
Vaknor joins her, carefully gliding into my line of sight, adorned in white robes. “Please, we do not care about the boy,” the elder chimes in, and Dephina shoots him an incredulous glare. “I only ask for mercy, for Arabella, my daughter.” He blinks twice, his eyes the same shade of blue as Calista’s.
I step forward, the fabric of my tunic straining against my muscles as I close the few feet between us, desperate to rid myself of them all. “You have been gifted with the powers of all the gods. You have overseen Harvests and sent sacrifices to their deaths. When you won your Harvest, you took an oath to me, and to Dahryst. Your daughter’s sacrifice is an honor!”
“She will not survive it,” he splutters, bowing his head so as not to look at me, but as I recall our earlier meeting, humiliation shoots into my chest. He knows Calista cannot die by my touch.
“Then she will die,” I spit.
“Vaknor’s daughter may die, but we cannot allow the traitor to win,” the youngest elder speaks to my back. “You must eliminate him from the tournament and choose another.”
Dephina shakes her head at the youngest. “Melevin, don’t.”
I spin to face him, then tilt my head. “Must I?” I ask, and his brown eyes narrow, sweat beading on his tanned forehead. “You have forgotten,” I yell, my tone thunderous, causing crows to fly from the treetops, “that I command you!”
Shadows dance from Melevin’s fingers as he stumbles back. They flurry across the space between us, poised to attack. Gasps erupt from the other elders, and a maniacal laugh leaves my lips. I slice my hand through the air, and the shadows dissolve.
