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Being understood was like bathing in the light of a new dawn, the warm rays caressing each part of me that I thought needed to be kept hidden. Being understood, being loved by Ruslan, was like walking into warm darkness, where all walls were free to fall away, where all layers of self-preservation were shed like scraps of fabric, and where I could be unequivocally myself. As we kissed, the fog of doubt drifted from my mind, revealing the truth that lay beneath it.
Ruslan was the right choice.
21
Béke Day Five
Watching Ruslan and Izidora wrap themselves around each other in front of the entire fucking arena set my blood on fire. The sweat that dripped off my body was nothing compared to the heat burning in my chest, where the twisted binding magic roared to life. The bond I shared with Izidora tightened as I pulled on it, desperate for her to look at me, tofeelme. But she ignored it, smiling instead at the king of the Iron Realm.
If it was a king Izidora wanted, I would make that happen.
My teeth nearly cracked with the force of my gritting them, and I stalked away from the tug-of-war ring, snatching my shirt off the ground in the process. The cold air slapping my face did nothing to soothe the tightness in my chest and neck, and it took every ounce of my self-control not to unleash ropes of pain on every single fucking person in attendance.
Red and black coated my vision until I found myself standing in front of the leaderboard, my name higher than all the rest. A wicked grin split my face as I realized I had won the entire event, and quite handily by the number etched beside my name. Thanks to my binding magic, I was stronger, faster, and more powerful than I had ever been.
The discarded tunic clung to the sweat on my skin as I pulled it over my head and walked to the nearest stand serving hot drinks. The scent of spiced cinnamon reminded me of Izidora as the tender handed me a mulled cider.
With all my might, I locked away every emotion raging inside me, focusing on the taste of the cider over my tongue as I waited for the rest of the contestants to finish their events and return to the stage.
An idea started forming in my head as I watched the Fae from afar, and by the time everyone had gathered around the stage, it was a full-fledged plan. My friends sauntered up beside me, drinks in hand, as Ruslan began to speak.
“The strength competition has concluded. The Iron Realm offers a prize for the individual winner of each event, as well as an overall winner.” He paused, sweeping out a hand for a dozen servants to bring the prizes forward. Each velvet pillow cradled gems, metalwork, and fine fabrics, a testament to the wealth the Iron Realm could so carelessly toss away.
An officiant stepped forward, handing Ruslan a folded piece of paper. An excited tension hung in the silent air as he opened it. His expression darkened, and his fingers tightened over the paper. It was gone in a flash, and he lifted his head, plastering an easy smirk across his face.
“The first winner is High Lord Kazimir Vaszoly of the Night Realm.” He spit out the words like they were poison, but his tone was lost among the claps and cheers.
“Go!” Viktor said, clapping me on the shoulder and shoving me forward.
I allowed a smile to reach my lips, but my eyes were hard and cold as I ascended the stairs to the stage and crossed to the center where Ruslan and the servant touting the prize waited. The metalwork on the faceplate meant to protect a horse’s head was exquisite, and the spikes sticking out of it brought images of Fek racing into battle against the Iron Fae to the forefront of my mind.
I accepted it, then waved to the crowd, acting like the king I was about to be. The beast thrummed in my chest when the king of the Iron Realm drew near, whispering to me to throw out those thick black ropes and choke him until he could no longer breathe, then rip the Iron Crown from his head and place it on my own.
I shoved it away and allowed the cheers that greeted me as I showed off the piece to soothe the need to be seen and appreciated for the hero I was. I loved every moment of attention they threw my way.
Ruslan held up a hand, bringing silence once again. I turned to leave, and with a gloriously pained grumble, Ruslan said, “Don’t go anywhere.” Clearing his throat, he said louder, “High Lord Kazimir Vaszoly has won every prize. He is the overall winner of this Béke’s strength competition.”
The Night and Crystal Fae erupted with excitement, and I met Ruslan’s eye in a clear challenge. Hatred blazed in them, no doubt because I’d embarrassed his entire realm in the span of a few hours. I held a deferential smile as he handed me prize after prize, ensuring the crowd – and Izidora – saw my graciousness. I thanked him loudly over and over again, commenting on how fine the prizes were.
By the time the last one was piled at my feet, I thought Ruslan might unleash the claws he’d shown us the other dayand swipe at my throat. Instead, he faced the gathered Fae. “This concludes the day’s events. Tomorrow, we will race around these arenas on horseback. I wish you all a lovely evening of celebration.”
The sound of laughter and footsteps echoed around the valley as the onlookers exited the stands and the competitors congratulated each other and embraced. Ruslan stalked from the stage, the servants and officiants following closely behind him, though the queens remained seated, waiting for their husbands. Endre, Viktor, Vadim, and Kaztar ascended to the stage behind the two kings.
“Congratulations, Kazimir,” Kaztar said by way of greeting before scooping an armful of prizes.
I shrugged, acting as though I was humbled by my own obvious prowess. “Thank you, Kaztar. Your encouragement helped me carve the path to victory.”
He snorted in response. I helped my friends carry my winnings to our horses, securing the metal plate over Fek’s bridle. He looked as fierce as I’d imagined, and as I mounted him I fell into fantasies of destroying the Iron Realm once and for all.
But it was not the time to overextend my imagination on daydreams; I needed to set my new plan in motion.
I released a heavy sigh, allowing my shoulders to slump as the five of us rode along the path back to Ryza Citadel. “I don’t think Izidora will choose me.”
Viktor and Vadim shared a look that made me think they agreed, but Endre butted in with reassuring words. “You don’t know that. There is still time.”
Dropping and shaking my head, I said, “After the way she kissed him at the tug-of-war, I don’t think there is time for me anymore. I’m too late. I just don’t want him to become king of the Night Realm too.”
Kaztar pulled his horse up, stopping our procession. “Hold on. We cannot allow that to happen. I will not put my realm in the hands of that madman. If you truly think that Izidora choosing Ruslan is inevitable, we must act quickly. Izidora was never crowned, nor did King Zalan name her heir apparent. The line of succession remains open.”
