Page 9 of A Fate of Wings

“Very well, Beast. Since you won your match, you may return to your cell or take a seat in the fourth gallery and watch the proceedings.”

“I’ll watch,” he said, as though I should have expected his answer.

The demon flared his leathery wings in a rippling display of power and launched himself upright into the flight, which took a great deal of strength to accomplish. It hinted at his age and his power level. My desire for him went up another notch.

A loud thump sounded from below, snapping me out of my lustful stare. The clean-up crew had wheeled a cart into the arena and thrown the elf onto the wooden platform. The immortal elf would heal in time, and our infirmary would hold him in a safe room until he was fit to travel back to the Spring Court. A shame, really, since he’d displayed a satisfying set of skills against the demon.

Melanie let out a loud sigh. “Ninety-nine more of these battles to sit through.”

“Ah, Mel.” I patted her shoulder. “It’s always good to have my sister by my side.”

She lowered her gaze to the ground and then peered at me through her eyelashes. I smoothed a smile across my face. Always smile, Mother had said. She’d taught me the importance of combining the sharpness of our tongues with a demure smile to lessen the sharp lashings. Plus, it confused people. Did we mean the words as we said since we smiled as we spoke? Or were our words laced with enough acid to strip flesh from bone? One could never tell with a smiling siren.

The next contestants entered the arena. Sparkling blue lined one contestant’s arms, signifying a water sprite, while the other trotted out in his wolf form. Melanie yawned. Neither man drewmy attention, but I watched the battle as the water sprite flung his powerful energy of water at the wolf. The wolf snarled and lunged for the man. He didn’t move quick enough, and the wolf’s teeth latched onto his shoulder. The man screamed. His voice echoed from the walls and sent chills down my spine. He staggered to his knees. The wolf let go, leaving us with a view of the water sprite’s arm hanging precariously from his shoulder. Gaping wounds left flesh and sinew on display.

The wolf bounded up the stairs to the same level as the demon and settled before he even introduced himself. That was a mark against him. There was arrogant and then there was smug. I enjoyed a confident man, but not one who entered these trails and then decided he was too good to introduce himself.

I nodded to Raefa. She stepped forward, and I whispered in her ear what I thought of the wolf shifter.

“I’ll make sure the guards teach him respect with a lashing,” she whispered back.

She was flawless at her job. Even if combat and other tasks decided the trial’s winner, it didn’t mean I couldn’t tweak the results a fraction. I had to mate with the winner, after all.

A servant stepped forward with a platter of food and kneeled at my feet between Melanie and me.

“Good timing,” Melanie plucked a grape. “Boredom eating.”

I waited until she ate one before I choose a bright purple grape. After the unexpected death of my father, I was careful to let no one realize I didn’t eat the food first. I had my suspicions his untimely death was from poisoned food, but I hadn’t been able to prove it. Still couldn’t prove it.

Sirens were deadly. And beautiful.

A toxic combination.

Whoever won the trials would have to be strong enough to endure those traits.

And me.

Chapter six

Rozronuuk

The Autumn Court

Ishould pay moreattention to the other contestants, but my mate drew my focus. Every movement she made from the slight twitch of her lips when she fought a smile to the tiny movements she made with her hands. Hands that clasped a golden staff. One that I’d made. Goldsmithing was a skill I’d worked hard to perfect. The soothing motions of cutting, filing, hammering, turning, spinning, bending, and casting gold helped calm the rage. It focused me, but soon became a passion.

The surrounding seats filled with the other winning males. Their testosterone levels thrummed as did the adrenalin of their recent fight. Some appeared young in immortal terms and too soft for a siren. Others were battle-hardened and covered in scars and too rough for the beauty of a siren. She’d need a mate to compliment her in fierceness and appeal.

An ogre slumped into the seat beside me, knocking me with his massive frame. I clenched my fists but kept myself from swinging a punch in his ugly face.

“You should give up now,” I said.

His green eyes glared at me.

As if I’d be afraid of an ogre. He might be larger than me in size, but unless he planned to sit on me, then there was no way he’d best me in a fight.

“You give up, demon,” he spat.

“If we fight next, then I’ll use your tusks to cut out your tongue.”