Page 96 of Hellbound

“I never should have let you go alone that night.” Her eyes were rimmed with red and her bandage had darkened from the effort. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not the monster in this story. The king is.” Ksenia’s eyes fixated on the blood seeping through the pure white gauze. “It’s not right for us to be enslaved or murdered for who we were born as. I didn’t choose this, nor did you.”

Choked with tears, Danika pulled her in once, hard, and Ksenia pressed her face into her elder sister’s strong shoulder for as long as they could afford until the footsteps of another guard rotation sounded in the hallway.

Danika stepped back and cupped Ksenia’s face in her roughened hands, memorizing while she still could. The fierce look in her yellow eyes, her long dark lashes, her warm skin—different, but still her sister.

“Go,” Ksenia said, and gazed at her sister a beat longer than she should have as she disappeared down the hallway.

Ksenia’s heart was in her throat with the unwelcome thought that it may have been the last time they saw each other.

The next night would be the final challenge, and Ksenia couldn’t bring herself to tell Danika about the harrowing trials they had endured to that point.

That she had survived, and twenty-eight others had not.

But she only had to kill one more to be crowned Sevrant.

26

Ksenia loathed to feel beneath anyone.

The dungeon she found herself in was more like a pit, with a wide atrium ringed at the second floor by a balcony bustling with spectators.

It took everything in her not to glare at Karsan where he lounged among them, awaiting the blood sport to commence.

But, she still had to convince him she would be a worthy and loyal weapon.

Grateful for the privilege.

For now. Vornaya’s voice made Ksenia’s lip curl.

The crown of her head prickled.

His cool gaze moved over her as if surveying a piece of weaponry, disinterested, certain of his ownership.

Servants buzzed at his sides, bearing fruit and wine in anticipation. Lords and ladies pressed upon each other to get his attention, leaning over the railing.

Draped over his shoulder and arm was a striking older woman, dark-haired and elegant.

Lady Milena, the king’s longest-standing consort following Queen Ravenka’s passing.

Karsan gestured to a courtier with his goblet, wine sloshing over the rim in a careless arc.

Ksenia pressed her fingernails into her palms as a drop hit her shoulder.

A velvet embossed banner unfurled over the wood railing, casting long, clawed shadows across the floor below, and she let it redirect her anger where it belonged.

Tivan and his jagged-toothed smile. The only thing left between her and victory.

She spotted a loose thread at her cuff, and her hand automatically reached for the empty space at her hip. A curse escaped her lips, and she was doubly reminded by the constant throb in her temples of Caromir’s absence.

She was dressed in Beranek green: a loose tunic paired with a matching vest, the house crest emblazoned upon her heart. Her black trousers were loose and easy to move in, tucked into well-fitted leather boots. She had plaited her hair tightly to her head that evening, pulling every strand into a condensed bun at her nape.

Bohdan stood at the center of the room with his hands clasped behind his back. The shadows deepened on his face from the flickering torches. He was dressed entirely in black, reminding Ksenia of that fateful night in the forest. His tunic featured an asymmetrical closure with decorative silvered clasps at the shoulder. Embroidery ran down his chest, and she averted her eyes at the thought of him flush against her. A wide belt cinched his hips with matching leather vambraces on his forearms, which were crossed over his solid chest now.

If she survived Tivan, she would have a much more formidable opponent to destroy next. She had gotten within a hair’s breadth of killing Bohdan, and yet he still bested her. She shook her head and refocused.

Bohdan beckoned them forward with a slender finger.