“You’re aware I don’t control the elements, yes?” the Sovereign scoffed. “Perhaps you should curse at the sky. Maybe someone above will hear you.”
Only the Kovahrian Queen seemed unimpressed, perhaps because her realm was the wettest of them all. Her eyes locked on Tobias, her prized fighter, and he scowled. Fuck ’em all.
Another group scuttled toward the garden. Cosima and Her court nestled beneath their own canopy, and Tobias sucked in a breath at the sight of Leila. Her glare tore through him, ripping him to shreds, yet he couldn’t look away.
Drake’s gaze darted between Tobias and Leila, and a hint of a sneer graced his thin lips. “I see you, Artist.”
“Good to hear your eyes are working.” Tobias nodded at the wet bandages wrapping the man’s skull. “Better than your ears, at least.”
The royals stood off to the side, huddling beneath their canopies. A sopping-wet Wembleton waddled into the garden, his hair plastered to his face and feet squishing in his sandals. He raised his arms high, feigning poise, though the rain had chilled him to the bone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, royals of Thessen and afar,” Wembleton shouted above the rain. “Welcome to the tenth challenge of the Sovereign’s Tournament. Today will determine who goes on to compete in the Culmination. Four of you stand before me, but only three will leave here alive.”
The men stood at opposite ends of the garden, Kaleo across from Tobias, Flynn across from Drake, though their pointed gazes made their intentions clear. This was Tobias’s day to die.
“Your task today is as simple as it is mighty.” Wembleton shook his fists, failing to stir the audience. “Today you will fight to the death using only the hands at your sides and your God-given strength. And for the man who falls, know that while you may not stand as Champion, your efforts and valor—”
“Get on with it,” the Sovereign spat.
“Right.” Wembleton scuttled out from the center of the garden, trying in vain to nestle beneath a canopy. “Gentlemen, ready yourselves.”
All four men leaned into a running stance, his opponents hungry and eager, though Tobias didn’t share their fervor. He didn’t care about winning, and for once, he didn’t care about survival.
“Steady…”
His opponents’ eyes narrowed, focused, but he didn’t react. There was nothing within him, save for a brewing rage and his need to set it free.
“Begin.”
The men hurtled toward the center of the garden, headed for a crash.
The impact knocked the air from Tobias’s lungs. White light spotted his vision, but it didn’t stop his hands from finding Kaleo’s throat, from digging in. The sound of Kaleo choking was euphoric but fleeting, as Drake and Flynn pried Tobias away, holding him steady.
Kaleo pounded him in the chin, staining his lips red mere seconds into the challenge. The world around Tobias fell silent, leaving him with the throbbing of his jaw, the fist barreling into it, and the rain washing the blood away blow after blow.
Tobias ripped himself from his opponents’ clutches. There wasn’t time to think, nor did he care to; all he wanted was to spill blood. He slammed his fist into Drake’s gut, again, and when Flynn grabbed his shoulder, he spun around and punched him in the jaw. Chaos enveloped him soon after, his world reduced to grasping hands, and he only realized he was falling once his back slapped against the wet ground.
Bodies piled on top of him, forcing him deeper into the mud. At some point there was a punch to his nose, a foot to his gut, but all he registered was madness and pain. He ripped at whatever was in front of him—hands, faces, he didn’t care, so long as his fingers were red. Soon the sheer weight on him was suffocating, and the pull of his lungs went from desperate to excruciating.
Is this how you die? In the mud, like a dog? Something about it felt warranted, but the ache of his lungs turned into a burning, and with it came the adrenaline. This isn’t the end. Within seconds, his entire body was on fire.
Kill them all.
Tobias clawed at the men, digging his nails into raw flesh until the sky finally appeared above. A life-giving breath filled his lungs, and he forced his way to his feet, the other competitors scattered through the turf like leaves. Mud and blood caked his body, leaving him more beast than man, his humanity stripped away.
Tobias barreled into Kaleo, slamming him against a pillar. He rammed him again, each