Morgana had already waved her hand; the Lykae yelled one word: "Brother!"
His call still echoed, even after his head rested next to his limp body.
Bettina swayed, her jaw slackening. But Morgana simply tossed a temporary glamour over her, erasing any expression.
Inside, she was sick-about this tournament, about her existence, about her very world. How long can I be powerless like this?
How long till she became as hard-bitten as Morgana hoped-or as weak as Raum expected?
Trehan swallowed, feeling cold steel against his throat, yet unable to trace away, unable to fight.
Such a gamble. Such a fool. You gave her f**king heads, Trehan?
"Lastly, Princess?"
The crowd was silent as a grave.
Bettina gazed at Trehan, as if to gather strength for her last pronouncement.
He stared back, taking her face into memory-
"The . . . phoenix."
The stone demon roared, "No, you can't!"
With a shrug, Morgana waved her hand once more. His muscles bulged, hardening like stone, but the sorceress's power was too great. Another demon down.
Trehan just kept himself from sagging against the sword in relief. He, Caspion, and Gourlav would survive the night.
"And now for the winner! Which gift do you like best?"
Wagon of gold, concert tickets-or a seemingly impossible revenge?
Yet again, he and Caspion would be in competition. Now that Trehan hadn't been decapitated, his confidence over his offering rose. She'll choose mine. Anyone could give her tickets or riches. But not vengeance.
"I like . . . the tickets best."
"Caspion the Tracker advances to the final round!" Morgana called with fanfare, but no real excitement.
Well-played, demon. The crowd roared, feet stomping the stands. Raum whistled shrilly, whaling his massive hands in applause.
Had Trehan actually thought Bettina would prefer any gift over Caspion's? Two f**king passes to some kind of mortal entertainment.
And now I face Gourlav tomorrow.
"Which gift is your runner-up, Princess?" Morgana asked.
Bettina sounded sick as she said, "The . . . heads."
Face Gourlav, have Bettina take me on a tour?
Any night of the week.
Trehan might die in the ring. He'd be damned if his Bride didn't send him off with a smile on his face.
Bettina's gaze kept straying to the Vrekener heads. Just looking at them provoked so many emotions inside her-fear, revulsion, yet there was also relief.
She'd reasoned, I would pay Gourlav's wagon of gold for those heads. Which means Daciano should earn the runner-up spot.