Page 30 of Gilded Curses

“So does your witch, or at least the full-blooded one, from what I’ve heard.”

Sahira’s head turned toward Elsa, who stared at Desmond with eyes that narrowed as her mouth pursed. Beside her, Zeth looked confused and irritated by Desmond’s shocking insights into their lives.

Sahira’s mind spun back to the memory of her and Elsa standing inside the library in the brownie town. Elsa had made it clear she preferred having sex with women.

It was yet another insight these things knew about them… but, like Cole being the dark fae king and Lexi being the queen of Dragonia, it was revealed in a place with a symbol.

Sahira was becoming increasingly certain those symbols had somehow allowed the dagadon to listen to them. They might have even watched over them.

When she’d touched the symbols, she felt no magic running through them, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t lurking beneath the surface. It could have been something she couldn’t tap into.

They had no idea what the dagadon could do, and while she often felt the power of others in things, it wasn’t a given that she would. If the power was old and had been there for years, its lingering, residual effects would have dwindled to nearly nothing.

Given the centuries Belda had spent in the Cursed Realm, there was a good possibility any magic residue vanished years ago. Those symbols were more than clues about how to enter The Tournament; she was sure of it.

Her fingers fisted as she shifted her attention back to the battle. She instantly regretted doing so as the fighters sparred with increasingly sluggish movements. Their uniforms were more red than white now.

She stared at Elsa, who was still glowering at Desmond. She willed her friend to see her until Elsa finally did.

With a subtle shake of her head, Sahira wordlessly told her to look away. After a reluctant moment, Elsa finally did.

When one of the fighters fell to his knee, half the crowd cheered and then grumbled when he staggered back to his feet and blocked the next blow. Sahira stared over the men’s heads while she waited for this to end.

Orin sipped whatever was in his goblet, but none of the others touched theirs as the fight continued endlessly on. Finally, after what felt like hours, one of the men went to both his knees.

This time, he didn’t get up.

He remained on his knees for less than a minute before toppling forward. The blood loss had weakened him considerably, but he wasn’t dead, as his breaths ruffled the short grass.

A cheer went through half the crowd while the other half grunted. They all chugged some more of their drinks while some laughed and slapped others on their shoulders.

They exchanged money as those who bet on the winner collected their spoils from those who lost.

“You got me this time, Renaldo,” Desmond said as he handed the man a chunk of gold.

Renaldo lifted the gold piece in the air to examine it. “I’d prefer to have my servants back, but this will do.”

“And you might win them back if we ever have someone brave enough to enter The Tournament again.”

To her right, Sahira spotted a woman dressed all in white. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she noiselessly wept. She clasped her hands before her as she gazed at the downed man on the field.

The anguish on the woman’s face caused Sahira’s heart to twist. She inwardly pleaded to Hecate that she was wrong and they’d lift the man from the grass and take him somewhere to heal.

Her pleas were eradicated when Desmond called, “Bring in the dogs!”

“The dogs?” Sahira blurted.

“The poor things must eat.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

When the implication of his words sank in, Sahira nearly bolted out of her chair. Orin’s hand coming down on hers kept her in place. She turned to look at him, and his eyes burned into hers as she felt him willing her to stay seated.

But this was the last place she wanted to be. Before she could say or do anything, the low snarl of animals made the hair on her nape rise.

Sahira gulped as she turned toward the six massive men standing behind those chains as thick as her thighs. At the end of those chains were three beasts, so big she couldn’t tell if they were dogs or small horses.

Two handlers tried to control one beast as the animals snarled, snapped, and dragged the men forward. Each man was at least six feet tall and two hundred pounds, but the dogs pulled them along as if they were no more than children.