Tributes.
Or another, more accurate term: sacrifices.
“Caben,” I whisper.
“Oh, sorry,” he says, dropping his arms and releasing me from the embrace. “Probably not good to declare to the others—”
“No,” I interrupt. “It doesn’t matter.” And it doesn’t. We’re too far into this for our alliance or even our affection to hinder us. I’m sure Crew, Lena, and the others are quick-witted enough to have figured it out. Bax has.
Caben’s eyes study my face, concern etched on his features. “Then what?”
“We’re being sacrificed to Bale,” I say. “She’s the goddess of violence, mayhem, and madness.” The blood sport makes sense now. Why the Otherworlders brought us down here during the peak of their attacks. The two are a combined effort.
Recognition lights Caben’s eyes as soon as he makes the connection. He scrubs his hands down his face and talks through gritted teeth. “We’re pawns.”
More than that, we do have a purpose beyond feeding their gambling and need of sport. The dark priest is feeding his goddess. “I have to find out why,” I say, thinking as I speak. “Bax says the dark priest is preparing the Otherworlders to live aboveground. That Bale will right the damages and wrongs done to them.” I swallow. “But no wish is ever granted without a price.”
“What does Bale ask for in return?”
I nod. “That’s the question we should be asking.”
Glancing behind me, I find Bax entering more statistics into his screen.
“Kal.” Caben’s tone is warning. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
I look back at Caben. “What do we have to lose?”
“Stop conspiring,” Bax shouts. We turn our heads as he approaches us. “Say your goodbyes if you wish.” His beady eyes land on Caben. “You’re up, Payne.”
Icy fingers wrap around my spine, and my stomach plummets to my feet. I take Caben’s hand. “Get to a weapon as soon as—”
“I know,” he says. “I know. I’m not planning on leaving our fight just yet.” His lips curl into a bright smile, but it’s strained. “I won’t leave you to do this alone.”
I open my mouth to tell him . . . something, but the words die on my tongue.
“Tell me when I get back,” he says, as if he’s simply going on a short outing. Not confronting his death.
Our eyes stay locked on each other as the announcer introduces, “The Prince of Pain!” And too soon the guards are pulling Caben from my grasp and forcing him into the Cage.
As the deep boom of the drums start up, Caben struts into the center of the Cage. He moves as if in slow motion. His head held high, his stride long and leisure. His shoulders rolled back, like he’s walking before the subjects of his kingdom.
Once I would have mocked hi
m, claiming he pranced like a spoiled prince. He still prances like spoiled prince, but now I also see the strength and pride in his calculated movements. And because he carries himself toward an uncertainty that could mean death, his show is more an insult to the ring leaders and Otherworlders. He will not parade around the ring like a pet monster.
He’s a prince.
He has honor.
Though my heart swells with affection for him, there’s also a dark fire igniting inside me. The flames lick the walls of my chest, and I look to the moon, wondering what madness is taking over.
Across the Cage, Collar’s barred door drones open.
Collar steps forth, a spiked collar around his neck. Coils of ultraviolet light lash against the spikes, illumining his pale face and eyes in an unearthly glow. He moves aside to welcome his competing contender.
The darkness slithers deeper into my core as I wait to see who will be Caben’s opponent. Its dark fingers grip my throat and I struggle to breathe. Please don’t be a Nactue, I pray. But it’s only a matter of time before he faces one of my girls.
It’s only a matter of time before I do.