Chapter 71
o. No, I can’t accept it. I won’t accept it.
All the people we’ve lost, all those actually deserving of this gift,N and she’s here? The person who has disregarded the very thing the Goddess of Life stands for at every turn? It’s absurd.
It’s as though my heart has been wrenched from my chest, the pain of losing to Zara clamping around my lungs. I would accept losing to anyone else. Literally anyone else. ‘You got here first …’ The words stumble on my tongue. ‘How very observant of you.’ Zara is grinning from ear to ear. It’s not her normal smirk; it’s an actual grin, though it’s still laced with her usual malevolence. ‘What is it they call second place? Oh yes, first loser. How apt. You know, I always thought my brother would be at my side to see me win this, but at least I get the joy of you watching me receive my gift before
I kill you.’ She’s not joking. Of course she’s not.
I try to block her out. Maybe the fact that she’s here, that she’s won, will be enough to end the trial. Perhaps I’ll be sent back to wherever the magic chooses. I still expect her to come after me, of course, but at least that way I’ll have a head start.
With her upper lip still curled in a snarl, she goes to say something more, but it is the Goddess who speaks instead. ‘Welcome, child.’ The hairs rise on the back of my neck, and I know without a shred of doubt that she’s talking solely to me. My knees buckle as though they’ve surrendered every ounce of their strength to her.
How I could ever have mistaken this figure for Dinah is a mystery. The air around the Goddess’s body shimmers ever so subtly, and the depths of her pupils surpass any mortal man’s or beast’s. If I needed any more proof, it comes from her voice. It’s an octave lower than the woman I know and lilting with an accent lost to time.
As I look at the deity encased in my friend’s form, the Goddess tilts her head slightly to one side. The gesture reminds me of an owl, so much so that I half expect to see wings unfurl from her sides. ‘Are you both ready?’ she asks, straightening her neck. ‘Ready?’ Zara asks the same question that’s on my tongue. ‘What do you mean? I got here first. I’ve won.’ A flicker of a smile teases the Goddess’s lips. ‘The trial has not yet been completed.’ My heart leaps in my chest with such force that my entire body jolts. It’s not over. Hope roars in my ears. ‘No!’ Zara slams her sword down against the stone like a petulant child mid-tantrum. Her face is red with fury. ‘I was here first. I reached you first.
That is the condition. I win the gifting.’ A flicker of anger flashes in the Goddess’s eyes and Zara’s redness pales.
A moment of silence swims around the cavern and then, without a clear reason why, both the deity’s expression and the Rettling’s objection are gone. It’s almost as though an exchange has happened between the pair that I wasn’t privy to. ‘You were the first to arrive.’ The voice that is not Dinah’s echoes around us. ‘I will agree to that. But that is all. Do you know why it’s called a gifting? Why it is not a prize?’ ‘Because it is a gift from you alone, Great Goddess.’ Zara’s response makes me want to laugh. So now she remembers the need for deference? I wonder what she’ll choose if she wins. A power to rival the Gods, perhaps?
It wouldn’t be beyond her arrogance. ‘Gifts are given,’ the Goddess continues, as though Zara never spoke. ‘This one, to a person of my choosing. And I have not yet decided to whom I will gift it.’ That jolt hits my chest again, combined with a sharp spike in my pulse.
That’s twice she’s said it now. Twice she’s said it’s not over. ‘There’s still a chance,’ I breathe to myself. There’s still a chance .
‘Yes,’ the Goddess says, turning to me, ‘there is.’ She can read my thoughts. While not entirely unexpected – it explains why Zara suddenly went quiet earlier – it’s still fucking scary.
I try as hard as I can to empty my mind, but it’s not exactly easy.
Thankfully, the moment she starts talking again, I have more important things to focus on. ‘First, I must start by asking one thing of you.’ That deep tone rumbles through me. ‘Your answer will determine whether or not you may continue to fight for the gifting.’ A final challenge. A fight? Was that word a deliberate choice? Gods, I hope not. If Zara brings back all the pain I was in after the kraken – pain that could only be muted by paparvy seeds – I might as well offer myself up to her now. ‘Of course,’ Zara replies instantly. Her grin is back in play. ‘Whatever you want. Whatever it is, I will beat her.’ She shoots me a glare before turning back to the Goddess who steps forward. My skin prickles and it feels as though her entire attention is solely on me. And yet from the way Zara has stiffened, I expect she feels the same. ‘I must ask you to relinquish any powers you have to me.’ ‘What?’ Zara’s eyes widen in an unspoken objection. ‘Are you refusing?’ I glance down at my feet. How the Goddess hasn’t killed Zara yet is beyond me. She has the patience of a saint. But I guess she knows more than I do. Especially if she can read our thoughts. Maybe the Rowell Rettling just keeps all the nice things in her head and speaks the rest. I doubt it, but who knows. ‘No, no,’ Zara replies hurriedly. ‘But what will happen when I win the gifting? Will it be returned to me, along with my gift?’ Again that wistful smile floats across the Goddess’s expression. ‘If you win’—her stress on the first word causes a flutter of gratitude within me—‘all of your powers will be returned to you, along with the gift
you have requested.’ ‘And if we lose?’ I ask. ‘Then you leave here powerless. Assuming the other allows you to live.’ That’s a no-brainer. Of course Zara’s not going to let me leave. Still, it doesn’t change my answer. ‘You can take my powers,’ I say. ‘They’ re yours.’
Zara huffs behind me. ‘She’s got fuck-all to give.’ She eyes me. ‘Though how a slum rat managed to afford a fire bead and an ice bead is beyond me.’ A frown creases her forehead.
The Goddess ignores her. ‘Rose Kultavaris will cede her magic to me.
Do you acquiesce to my request to do the same?’ Zara gapes. Though whether it’s at the possibility that I have magic or the Goddess’s use of big words that confuses her, it’s impossible to tell.
Still, she exhales and looks at the Goddess. ‘Yes. Take mine too.’ The instant the Goddess inhales, I brace myself for the pain. But it does nothing, and a scream runs through every line of my body as the magic I recently gained is ripped away, a burning agony filling me as my very essence is pulled apart.
Next to me, Zara screams out loud. Having never been stripped before, she couldn’t have known how much it would hurt.
When it’s over, Zara’s red hair has been stripped to white-blonde. She matches me now. A fellow outcast.
I once dreamed of all my enemies being stripped like me, yet now that the moment has come, I’m surprised to find no satisfaction, only weariness.
Magic or not, nothing will change between us. There will be no kinship, no bonding over a shared pain. At this point, I’m pretty sure Zara has no empathy left, if she ever had any to begin with.
I watch her raise her hand, clearly trying to draw the pulse of magic to her palms. When her hand drops and a tear leaks down her cheek, I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. Then I picture Grenda, and any burgeoning sympathy dies. ‘Very good.’ The Goddess’s chest rises and falls. ‘Now we must wait.’ With that, she closes her eyes.
Standing in such a manner, she looks even more like Dinah than she did with her eyes open, and I can’t help but wonder whether my friend is still there, present within herself and watching this whole debacle.
A chill sweeps through me as I wonder whether the honour of allowing the Goddess to possess you is something that can only occur once. Will Dinah’s life leave when the Goddess does? I pray she wouldn’t be so cruel to one of her own priestesses.
As the minutes tick by, I find myself desperate to know who or what we’re waiting for, and from the way Zara is fiddling with her furs, she is too. But the Goddess says nothing.
In the silence, I take the time to observe my competitor a little closer, like Benny would. Zara is standing with her back propped against the wall.
Like me, her arms are covered in scrapes and scratches, but there’s also a long tear on the left leg of her trousers, which are soaked through with blood. Maybe she caught her leg on one of the jagged rock edges in the light shafts. Perhaps she’s the one I heard scream.
A dull throb forms in the pit of my stomach. It doesn’t matter how much of an arse Jonas was at the end, he still looked out for me at the start. Still felt enough for me to offer me marriage; a lifetime bound to me, with my forbidden powers and love for another man. The thought of Jonas lying dead or dying somewhere in the maze is enough to raise tears in my throat.
They won’t leave the others here, will they? I voice the question loudly in my mind, hoping the Goddess might hear and answer me. The priestesses will take the bodies of those who died, surely?
When no reply comes, my mind returns to my friends. To Benny. I pray to every God and Goddess that he hasn’t frozen to death out there, waiting for us to finish. Yet it’s hard not to think of his skin turning blue. His fingers black as frostbite claims them.
My mind is still rife with such images when a faint sound draws my attention. A scratching somewhere beneath me. That rat-like scraping. Only, it’s not rats at all. I know it’s not, just like I knew it wasn’t them before. It’s another Rettling in the tunnel, and given how things have unfolded since the Ofur began, there are only two options for who it might be: Del or Jonas.
And no matter how ridiculous it is of me, I know which one I’m praying to see.
As the scratching gets louder, the tension claws at my insides. I hold my breath, offering silent prayers to the Goddess who stands in front of me. If she hears my desperate pleas, she doesn’t show it. Her eyes remain closed, her face expressionless.
Only when a crown of sandy hair crests the opening do I let out a gasp. ‘Jonas!’ While Zara scoffs as if disgusted by this new addition, I run over to the shaft he came through and offer him my hand. His weight is almost enough to pull me down, but somehow, I don’t fall. Instead, I haul him up, grunting with effort until his feet finally find the flat ground. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he looks even worse than I feel. Blood has dripped down his
cheeks and dyed his beard a reddish-brown, and one of his eyes is swollen shut. But he’s alive. He’s still alive. ‘Rose.’ His voice echoes all the relief I feel, yet as he goes to hug me, I gesture behind him.
His eyes flick first to Zara. He blanches. ‘She’s been stripped?’ But before I can answer, his eyes fall on Dinah and reverence washes over him. ‘Is that …’ Before I’ve even responded, he falls to his knees and offers the same words I did. ‘Great Goddess.’ Dinah’s eyes ping open, a smile lighting them. ‘Welcome, child.’ It’s exactly the same greeting she gave me. Does that mean Jonas has made it too? That she’s going to take his powers and tell us all to fight?
Do I want that or not? Anything to prevent Zara from being gifted is a good thing in my mind, but what chance do I stand of winning against Jonas as well? And will I be able to fight with my friend, even if he’s out of favour at this very second? As I contemplate the answers to my questions, the Goddess steps down from the rock on which she stands, then raises her hands, offering her palms up to the sky. ‘Zara, Rose. Now the time has come for the last part of your trial.’ Jonas is out of the running, then. That answers that question, but it also begs another: why did we need to wait for him to be here before Etta told us what the final part of the trial is?
It’s with a sickening drop in my stomach that realisation comes.
A heartbeat later, the Goddess confirms it. ‘Whichever one of you kills Jonas Lorathin will be victorious. You may begin.’ With that, she steps back.
Zara doesn’t even bother waiting to see if I react. Instead, she lunges straight for Jonas. Her sword whistles as it cuts through the air, but the moment he blocks the strike he looks at me. ‘Rose!’ Jonas yells out. ‘You can’t let Zara kill me! You can’t let her win! It has to be you. It has to be! Kill me quick!’ His words make me feel sick. He may have pissed me off on so many occasions, yet now – when it truly matters – he would throw away his life for me. For my success.
Jonas has his dagger, but the knuckles of his right hand are red raw, and I can tell from the way the vein bulges on his forehead that just gripping it properly is agonising.
Zara swings wildly at my would-be betrothed a second time. How she got that sword up some of the shafts, I’ve no idea, but it’s clear she’s struggling to hold it and balance her weight on that injured left leg.
Jonas sees it too and strikes out behind her knee. A good shot would have brought her down, but he’s also tired and injured, and it makes his aim sloppy. She recovers and moves into her next strike before he’s even rebalanced .
My own knuckles are white as I grip the hilt of my dagger, but I don’t
move to unsheathe it.
I don’t know what to do.
Do I risk it all and help him, or do I kill my friend? As I will my feet to move, I’m suddenly aware of the cloaked figure closing in on me. ‘You are not moving.’ The Goddess’s voice resonates all the way to my bones. ‘Do you wish to give your gifting away?’ ‘You wish me to kill, here, in front of you, the Goddess of Life?’ I shake my head bitterly, making my choice. ‘He’s my friend. I won’t kill him, not even for you. Not even for the gifting. It’s not right.’ ‘Would you have the same conviction if it was my brother Mortidem you were standing before?’ she asks. ‘If the God of Death wants death, then I doubt my personal desires would weigh very heavily.’ A sound almost like a chuckle rings out from her throat as I turn away.
I’m sure there are a thousand different scriptures explaining the reasons I should never turn my back on a God, but unless I do something, I’m going to lose another of my friends. Jonas is struggling and still refusing to use his powers, and Zara is giving it all she’s got. ‘You need to use your magic!’ I scream at Jonas. ‘Use your magic.
Blind her.’ His eyes dart to me and I see the panic within them, the fear of what he might do. It’s clouding his judgement. Stopping him from understanding what will happen if he doesn’t. ‘She’s going to kill you. For fuck’s sake, Jonas. Don’t be so fucking stupid!’ ‘You should know,’ the Goddess murmurs in my thoughts, ‘that Jonas has lied to you. Manipulated you. Some would say he deserves death, and that justice dictates you should be the one to give it to him.’ ‘This is the test,’ I say as realisation dawns.
‘Are you certain, Rose Kultavaris?’ I swallow hard because if I’m wrong, I’ll lose it all. Yet the Goddess of Life cannot want this of me, surely?
I look again at Jonas. See the way his eyes keep darting to me. See Zara’s mouth foaming as she fights for his death. One of them will die here today, and objectively, there’s only one person I want that to be. Not the one who carried a blinded Rettling off a frozen lake so she would at least have a chance to live. No, it has to be the one who murdered runts for sport .
The air trembles in my lungs. I need to save Jonas because it’s the right fucking thing to do, and sometimes we have to do what’s right, even when it puts everything on the line. No, especially when it puts everything on the line.
I breathe in and step forward, my dagger raised.
A roar tears from Zara’s throat the instant she sees me, the sound more beast than woman. She lifts her sword in a clean arc and the steel sings as it cuts through the air. She is nothing but a fur, leather, and braided hair blur as she runs at Jonas.
Her blade is long enough that a single sweep would send him sprawling – or me should she decide to change targets. I have no shield and no reach, and the only weapons in my possession are daggers, so small they might as well be fingernails in comparison to her sword.
But if I can close the distance between us … I don’t waste any more time. Instead, I run at her.
Zara’s strike splits the air where Jonas stood less than a heartbeat before, and he twists as best he can, pivoting to escape her blade.
I vault low, and the world narrows to the sound of my heart and the thudding of my boots on the hard earth. It’s loud enough for her to hear me coming for her.
Instantly, she decides I’m the bigger threat – or maybe it’s just the fact that killing me will be enough for her to win by default – and she turns to
face me head-on. ‘Fuck you, Kultavaris.’ Unlike all the times I’ve seen her fight before, her sword now swings without finesse or control, rage getting the better of her. Yet she catches my shoulder with the flat of her blade all the same. Pain shoots up from the impact point, and my arm goes numb from the shock, but I roll with it,
dropping my weight and tangling my legs with hers in a move Kyor taught me. Go in brutal and precise.
Zara’s taller, stronger, and her sword finds me twice more – once against my ribs, once along my thigh. Both wounds burn, but I can still move, still breathe. I use one of my throwing daggers. Given the nature of the previous trials, it feels like it’s been too long since I had a chance to truly test my ability with the weapon, but the moment it leaves my hand, I know the throw is good. With brutal precision it strikes her in her sword hand. As a shocked gasp flies from her lungs, the weapon drops from her fingers and I kick it away. ‘I can kill you with my bare hands!’ she snarls, but I barely listen. She has tried to kill me time and time again, and yet here I am, a finalist in the
Ofur.
And. She. Doesn’t. Deserve. To. Win.
I slam into her, deliberately kicking that wounded leg. As she cries out in pain, satisfaction sparks within me. She’s hurt and she’s angry and I just got in another good hit. But I’m not getting complacent. Using my hands, I grab her shoulders, grappling and pushing her down as blood pours from the wound in her leg. I’m close enough to smell it.
Her knees bend, and I’m certain that any second they’re going to buckle, but instead, she strikes out, kicking my feet from under me. The impact robs me of my breath, and that single moment is all she needs. She wraps her arm around my throat, pulling me down into her. As her knees drop, she squeezes tight, restricting the air that my lungs so desperately crave. Within seconds my head is swimming. She is choking me. Killing me. But it’s not fast enough for her.
While her left arm continues to crush my airway, her other hand rakes my body for my dagger. But I know she won’t find it. Because I already have it in my hand.
Perhaps it’s the lack of air or maybe it’s the Goddess’s doing, but either way I feel my heartbeat slow, the surge of adrenaline replaced with the steadiness of certainty.
Now is the time I finally find out what Dinah’s dagger will do. Reading through dusty tomes has left me none the wiser, but books don’t always hold the answer. Sometimes you have to raise your head above the parapet and do.
Pulling in the deepest breath I can muster, I clutch Zara’s forearm. It’s hardly a lethal place to strike, but maybe I don’t need a mortal blow, not if what happened at the inauguration vows was anything to go by. Picturing Jai and the way the blood gushed from that single wound in his hand, I slice the dagger right across that choking forearm.
Zara grunts in pain as the metal tears through the top layers of skin, but remarkably, her hold on me doesn’t loosen. Fearing I misjudged the blade, I struggle to angle my neck down to look at the arm slowly killing me.
Tears prick my eyes as relief washes through me. It’s not just a trickle of blood seeping from the small wound, but a torrent. It’s pouring, gushing red and hot out of her arm and onto my fighting leathers. ‘What?’ Zara says, her voice now woozy. ‘What have you done, you fucking runt?’ Her grip on me loosens only slightly, but it’s enough for me to kick back and push her away from me. I scramble forward on my knees as I breathe deeply, gratefully choking in lungfuls of air. The dagger is warm in my hand, blood sticky between my fingers.
Once my head has stopped spinning, I slowly twist around and face her.
I should feel triumphant. I should feel relief. Instead, a hollowness opens under my ribs as I see the exact moment Zara’s chest stills and her face slackens into something softer, a gentle expression that she never wore
in life.
‘Is she…?’ Jonas whispers.
I swallow. ‘Yeah.’ ‘You still have to kill me, Rose.’ Jonas’s voice trembles. ‘That’s what the Goddess said. The person who kills me will get the gifting.’ A smile curls my lips. ‘I don’t think I do. Do I, Goddess?’ My heart flutters as I hold my breath, and for the first time since I laid eyes on her, the Goddess’s mouth turns upwards and a glinting smile enhances those abyssal eyes. ‘No, you do not. It is yours,’ she says in a voice that doesn’t belong with Dinah’s body. ‘Rose Kultavaris, the gifting is yours.’
