Chapter forty - three - Scales as old as time

I force myself through the boisterous crowd. My elbows hit the back of others, feet trample upon feet, and many swear at me while Freya and Link apologize from behind. In normal circumstances, I'd yell back at them, but this is no normal circumstance.

"Where's Rydan?" I shout, shoving a drunken man to the side. I search around the arena, stepping down the stone stairs. If I can get any closer, perhaps, I can find something, anything. I don't know how, but after Link threw the fact Darius would be fighting at the arena, I didn't have much time other than to race out of the barracks.

"He tried to flirt with Lorcan first, that failed, so then he tried to convince the General to put someone else up for the fight."

Let me guess, that failed too. "Where is he now?" I stop and turn to them once we near the front.

Link holds up one finger, taking deep breaths as his golden-brown hair sticks to his forehead. "The General put him on patrolling duty. That's why I rushed to you." He frowns. "Although I'm still confused, I know you're on the side of the shifters, but I thought you hated the Golden Thief?"

The question hits me like a tree trunk to the face. "I do," I say, and Freya looks at me skeptically. "Well, most of the time I do, I—it's complicated."

I dislike Darius for many reasons, first his arrogance, then his inability to care about the consequences of what he does or says, and he always manages to aggravate me at every opportunity he has. But I also saw a different side to him at the den, and his capture isn't what he deserves.

"Nara," Link exhales. "You should know he's fighting—"

The cheers increase as a creak of the gates rumbles the entire arena. I whirl back around, and my stomach turns as Darius steps out from the darkened passageways. No shirt and no boots cover him apart from the ripped breeches. I've always been so used to seeing him in all black that I swallow a sharp breath as my gaze wanders the tanned muscled torso and the narrow lines indenting his abdomen. Sleek, tight, and irritating enough for him to rightfully have that huge ego I was met with at the Jewelers.

A chain around his ankle drags against the sanded pit as he walks to the center of it. Lashes across his back look to be healing, and I shake off the vision of how the General spoke of having flogged him. My face screws in distress, but for Darius, if he is in any pain, he doesn't show it. His eyes narrow at the people jeering, and a sense of amusement radiates from him in waves.

Then the crowd goes silent, and I raise my head toward the balcony on the opposite side of the arena. Sarilyn, in all her cruel and manipulating smiles, drops her palm to her side. The general—just as he did at the first fight I attended—sits beside her, drumming his fingers against his knee in boredom.

"This might be the greatest outcome we've had since the arena fights began," Sarilyn says, and indeed she is right. I'd go as far as to think the entire population of Emberwell are here.

Still, I ground my feet to the floor before I manage to do something utterly stupid—such as jumping into the pit.

"You're quite popular, Darius," she says his name like a tease, letting the last letter linger on her tongue.

Darius's answer isn't verbal, but from the shift in the queen's expression, I assume he must have shot her one of his mocking smiles.

Sarilyn's eyes slit, and she purses her lips before a fake smirk appears. "Well," she drawls. "Shall we see how you fare after today?" Jerking her chin toward the left of her, another set of gates crack and screech.

I hiss through my teeth at the horrible sound just as another male saunters into the pit: long dark strands, pale complexion, and Merati tattoos on his hands.

Recognition pulses into me that I feel it through my neck about to burst, and slowly, I shake my head. It's the shifter I'd gone to for answers. He's fighting Darius...

It's hard to blink into focus, the heat of the sun scorches at the crown of my head, but I will myself to concentrate, to not faint in the middle of this. Solaris forbid that were to happen.

And seeing the shifter again brings back unpleasant memories. Because of me, he was the cause of everyone finding out about the Neoma blood, the same one who I'd harmed him with. I had even felt sorry for him that day but now watching as he paces back and forth, eyeing Darius with a smile, I don't anymore.

"He'll be fine," Freya tries to reassure me, though her shaken voice tells me otherwise. "He carries the three powers of a shifter if anything—"

"He's also been weakened by Neoma tree blood." My sigh is as tense as my shoulders. "I doubt they done that for the other shifter." Considering he looks healthier than when I first saw him. "It's not a fair fight," I say to Link and Freya, knowing it has never been before for any creature.

Link gives me a sympathetic look, and then someone from above us yells for the fight to start. I glare at him despite his lack of not noticing that I am, and that's when I turn around again, only to be taken back by the flash of bright light coming from the shifter.

I place my hand up to my forehead, squinting before a roar quietens the crowd and the shifter's claws slam onto the ground, fully transformed. Darius doesn't so much as flinch, unlike the people around me do. He tilts his head as he raises his hand, and flicks of fire spark off his fingertips.

"Is he—is he not going to shift?" Link asks, his tone cautious, but I keep my gaze locked on Darius as the shifter springs toward him. Luckily Darius rolls out of the way before he can get to him. Stealth and precision ripples off him like he knows what tactic to take. The shifter, on the other hand, shakes his head from the fall and puffs air out of his snout, ready to charge at him again.

"He's going to try to wear the shifter out," I say quietly, my heart racing with unknown certainty.

The shifter snarls, creeping forward, one claw taps the ground slow and ominous, but Darius keeps his eye on every single one of his moves. And when the shifter pounces, Darius startled him by flaring a bolt of shadows up in the air.

I bite my lower lip out of nerves, watching the shifter go at him, each time failing. The audience groan, growing tired as if they'd hoped one would be dead by now. The irony is not lost where the humans are acting more animalistic than the dragons themselves.

Huffing, my eyes stay glued to each moment Darius dodges an attack. *Fight and win,* I say in my head with disbelief that for the first time, I want him to win. I don't know why I pray he can hear me. It's the single thought I have had since the last fight where the Ardenti heard me, connected with me. For whatever unknown reason, I was able to give her confidence. But Darius... he doesn't look my way once; he doesn't know I'm here, not even with scent.

Just fight and win, fight and win, fight—

A line of dust rises in the air, and seconds go by where I can't see anything until—until it clears and everyone around me screams in excitement. I lunge forward by impulse before Freya pulls me back just as the shifter lands on top of Darius, snapping his jaws down at him. Darius crosses his arms, keeping the shifter centimeters away from his face.

People in front of us block our view, and I twist my head to Freya. She already has that look in her eyes, the kind where she's telling me to stay put, but I shake my head and slip from her grip, moving in between two men. I meander through others, peering over women's shoulders to get a better look.

Sweat and dirt seep into my nose as arms flail upward, and then a thud from the pit prompts the crowd to clamor in delight. I make it right to the front, up against the railings, which are in perfect view of Darius and the shifter.

Except the shifter is no longer on him, he's at opposite ends while Darius staggers to his feet, pressing his hand to his upper arm. Blood trickles past his fingers, and he glances at it before his eyes are on the shifter.

I slam my hands down on the railings and exasperate.
The shifter is nowhere near worn out. It's like he has twice as much energy. Irked at how he'd managed to hurt Darius, I gaze over at the queen toying with her golden rings. She's smiling as if finally, the fun has begun for her.

I chew the inside of my cheek, breathing as hard as anyone else would be, and turn my head just in time to see the shifter spreading his wings and taking flight as far as the chains will let him.

No, no, no, Darius shift— "Shift!" I shout, but the noises from the crowd drown me out. The shifter dives downward, his wings tuck in, and I let out a small gasp right as he approaches Darius.

Yet one, two, three... seconds is all Darius needs as he crosses his arms over the other in front of him and bows his head before dark shadows encase him, making the shifter divert himself onto the floor. Swirls of silver glister from within Darius, and then he emerges no longer in human form but as a dragon.

Murmurs shock the entire arena. I've only seen Darius like this once, but I had been too weak, too delirious, and I could just about make out it was a dragon saving me in that forest. Now I'm witnessing the full extent of him, the strength that gleams off him as both human and a dragon. My gaze caresses each part of him in fascination, from his silver scales shimmering among the obsidian leather skin to the two horns curving at the head as if it were a crown.

Despite the same large build as the other shifter, Darius possesses something else, something I imagine that goes beyond his powers.

I release a trembling breath, my chest heaving as I look to Darius's wings spreading. The right stretches out to a perfect point, but the left... just like he'd told me is entirely severed at the top. Light streams between the thick skin, emphasizing his scar lines running down the curve of where his wing had been sliced.

I can't imagine for a shifter what it must feel like not being able to do the one thing you were born to do. Then again, the queen and Venators don't give them the privilege of doing that unless they want to be captured.

Wishing for this to end already, all I can do is watch as Darius, and the shifter stumbles and claws at each other. Sharp teeth clash on leather skin, and screeches come from them both. The shifter latches onto Darius's neck before he's shaken off, and Darius sends him flying back.

The stands rumble under my feet from the shifter smashing against the sides of the arena walls. A low snarl leaves Darius as he approaches him. The anticipation of the shifter not moving is too much that I want to close my eyes, and that is something I'm not used to thinking.

Darius stops inches away, and It's as if my heart does too. The shifter still hasn't gotten up, but Darius drops his head, sounds of pain emerge from him as he collapses to the floor and shifts back into a human. He clutches the sides of his head, and I realize that the shifter is using his Merati powers. Whatever it is, he's inflicting pain, hallucinations, anything.

Shit—

My palms burn under the tightening of my grip against the railing as the shifter hurtles from the walls to Darius. My hands tremble and again, I let my body do what I always shelter myself from—fear.

And for the first few seconds, I can't see Darius. The shifter's whole weight covers him. People question whether it's over, but the shifter soon enough raises its head and shrieks, crumpling to the ground beside an alive Darius. Tendrils of fire spark from his palms. He's panting as the shifter reverts to his human form—chest red raw from burns.

It's not long before they both regain some strength, and the shifter quarrels with him as humans with fists in the air and one on top of the other. The shifter lands the first few punches until Darius clenches the shifter's other hand within his grip. The audience winces out loud as Darius smacks his head against the shifter's.

My head pounds wildly, almost as if I'd received the hit while the shifter smacks a palm over his forehead, tumbling backward. Darius reacts quickly as he glances to his side and takes the long chain by his foot, wrapping it around the shifter's neck. A struggle ensues as Darius doesn't ease on his hold, and the shifter turns to every color in the world.

He sputters for what seems like minutes until his hands fall limp to the side and his head drops to unconsciousness.

I think I stop breathing as the chain loosens from the shifters neck and Darius steps back to examine. It goes eerily quiet that this time it lasts a lifetime, and then... the cheers break through.

Copper coins rain in the air, while others complain that Darius didn't kill him. I know that the shifter—given the opportunity—would have done it, but even if Darius wanted to, that's what the queen would have expected. But I don't think Darius intends to give her that satisfaction of killing his own.

Glancing over at Sarilyn, she grips the arms of her throne despite her calm composure as he stares up at her and then turns toward the crowd, bowing at the waist with a mocking smile. He goes around as everyone whistles before he stops to do it to someone else. My eyes travel along with his until I notice Lorcan above.

His lips are pulled into a tight line, from where I'm standing, his anger convulses out of him like that one movement from Darius aimed at him is the last straw. Every part of me grows heavy with emotion. Had the death of Lorcan's father made that hatred so strong? Blood or not, I could never hate my brothers for anything.

Lorcan shakes his head, his brows narrowing before he shoulders past someone and walks out of the stands, never turning back.

Prying my eyes away as he disappears, I whirl my head to Darius. He's still bowing when he freezes halfway, straightening up, and his gaze connects with mine from the stands. It's the first he's seeing me since that night, and it's the first his winning smile disappears.

There is such an intense expression on his face; it punctures through me. I can't tell if my visage reflects his, but I can feel the solemness in the way my brows pucker, my throat closes, and how my heart squeezes until there shouldn't be anything left except remnants of what it once was.

Someone says my name, but I clutch my cloak as Darius and I stare at each other. He slowly rises to his full height, slick in sweat and dirt, yet he still looks powerful, even effortless. His eyes never drift away from mine as Venators yank him back to the dungeons. Even as he looks over his shoulder at me and the gates close, he doesn't stop. It's as if he was memorizing my features, whole.

"Nara!" Freya shakes my arm, and I realize it was her calling for me. I glance at Sarilyn, her eyes on me in the same way she'd looked at me on the night of Noctura ball, knowing I was with Darius.

Freya shakes me again, and this time I face her and Link, my mind completely elsewhere. "I—need to get him out I—"

People start descending from the steps as Link and Freya share a troubled look before he says, "Nara, it's not so simple, you know that."

I do.

"Now more than ever, the queen will likely think you'll try and get him out," Freya adds. "Meaning more patrols and less chance of you succeeding."

She keeps her hand wrapped around my arm, and I lower my head, knowing she is right, but it doesn't make me want to not try, at least.

My chest tightens with an alarm of endless possibilities if I don't. "If we don't do anything, they'll kill him—"

"But if they wanted him dead," Freya lowers her voice. "They would have done it by now. They want answers from him, don't they?"

I nod in hesitance, but how much torture could he last before telling them everything they want to know?

Freya sighs, looking at Link as if she's thinking of what to do next. "Three days, Nara," she says. "Give it three days, and I will find out where exactly they're keeping him and gather enough resources to help you."

Three days... a lifetime in my eyes compared to most. I slide my hand down to hers and squeeze it. "But what about you, your father—"

"Is a horrible piece of a human being," she cuts me off. "And if I try to think about it, then the more, I'm letting him win." She looks skyward, biting her lip, and I watch her throat ripple as she swallows before focusing on me. "My mother died... he killed her, he treated me like I was dirt, and when I came back after two years, he already had everything set up for me because he believed I wouldn't succeed in anything else. He may be my father, and I hate that—" A single tear slides down her cheek. She wipes it away within a second. "—I hate that I still love him, but I also can't let him think he's winning again because I'm tired of feeling weak by his side, and I'm tired of always trying to make him love me when that should come naturally to a father."

No matter the circumstances, Freya has stood beside me for anything. She needn't not to yet learning she's a witch, that her father killed her mother, she still finds the courage to help when she shouldn't have to at all. "You might share his blood, but you're nothing like him," my words soft enough to nurture her. "Remember that."

She braves on a smile, her eyes squinting like she wants to cry as she nods and drops her head on Link's shoulder beside her.

Calming myself with a deep exhale, I say, "Three days, then."

"Three days," she repeats it with a whisper, and I look back to the pit, the marks on the ground and then the queen and general gone from their thrones.

After the three days, I will only have four more until the trials. I pray those do take a lifetime.