Page 6 of When Roses Burn

At the far end of the room, Lyra pulled a chair out from an empty table and sat on it. Dromon lifted a bottle from the tray of a passing gorgon server who’d tied back her hair and covered it with a black headpiece. Having her hair covered probably put the customers more at ease, and she’d make more money if she didn’t turn her customers to stone.

Dromon tossed some coins on her tray and set the bottle on the table. She started to protest the loss of the bottle, but when she spotted me, she closed her mouth and turned away. Without a word, the pretty server returned to the bar.

Pierce grabbed the bottle and took a swig from the unlabeled container. With dark brown skin and intelligent chestnut eyes, Pierce was average height for a shifter at six foot three but more thickly muscled than most. He’d shaved the sides of his hair to the skull and wore what remained in a braid to his waist.

When he finished drinking, Pierce set the bottle down and wiped his mouth before speaking. “Whiskey.”

“Good,” Dromon said as he claimed the bottle next.

A shout from the crowd drew my attention to the three-story cage in the center of the room. I’d spent a lot of time in that cage since escaping the harem; anticipation of a kill thrummed through my veins, but I didn’t go in there for just anyone.

“Here,” Lyra said and thrust the bottle at me.

The scrapes on her knuckles were still red but had stopped bleeding from her recent tussle with a cyclops. Needless to say, he no longer had an eye, as Lyra didn’t lose.

Tall and leaner than most shifters, her golden blonde hair stood out in short spikes around her striking face. Her full lips were almost always in a downturn; that wasn’t any different now as she waved the bottle at me.

When her brow furrowed, her lime green eyes narrowed on me. “Are you drinking or not, Knox?”

I claimed the bottle and took a swig before passing it off to Dromon. I eyed the cage, but there were too many eternals between me and it to get a clear view of what was transpiring behind the bars.

A cheer ran through the crowd, and chairs skidded back as some of the eternals leapt to their feet and threw their hands in the air. Others groaned as they slammed their fists off the table; metal clinked as coins exchanged hands.

A second later, a body, with a smashed-in head, was carried through the crowd. Not everyone who entered the cage killed their opponents, but some chose to do so. Since I was very selective about my opponents, none of them survived.

From within the cage, the unseen winner called for another contender. I was itching for a fight and desperate for some relief from the pressure building within me, but I had to be careful, as no sorcerers would get in there after I entered… and they were all I wanted to fight.

The bottle returned to me, and the whiskey burned its way down my throat as I drank it. I was pretty sure they made this shit with actual fire, but it did the trick.

Dromon took the bottle from me and leaned back in his chair to chug it. He wiped a strand of his dark blond hair from one of his brown eyes. When he leaned forward again, his shoulder-length hair fell forward as he clasped the bottle between his legs.

Pierce punched him in the shoulder and claimed the bottle as Lyra rose, stretched her back, and strode over to the elves. They found her another chair, and she settled at their table as one of them handed her a yellow bottle.

Within the ballroom of the castle absorbed by the earth over many years, the acoustics muffled the chatter of the eternals. The walls still bore remnants of the once colorful frescoes that had decorated them. Some of the murals extended from floor to ceiling, or perhaps all of them did, but only a few retained enough color to be discernible.

Though the colors remained, it was impossible to tell what scenes the faded paintings depicted. The splashes of color brought some life to this dingy, underworld dwelling.

The lanterns on every table were the only sources of illumination. Their glow didn’t penetrate the far corners of the domed room. There, thick shadows danced and swayed on the outskirts of the room.

I’d once scampered through the shadows, staying small and hidden to avoid drawing attention to myself, while I spied on those gathered within. Often, Briar would be with me, trying not to giggle as we observed things we were never supposed to see at our age.

Sometimes, she’d hide behind me before poking her head out and ducking back again. We’d lived in the shadows, watching, absorbing, laughing, gawking, and sometimes being horrified.

One day, when I was little more than thirteen and she was twelve, Briar stopped in the shadows, pulled a dagger from under her black dress, and placed it against the wall. With deft movements, she chipped away some of the paint and stone until she’d carved our initials, SN & BR for Seth North and Briar Ravenwood, into the wall.

“Best friends forever,” she’d whispered with a smile and twinkling eyes. It dazzled me. “And now we’ll always have proof of it.”

That proof remained etched into the stone. I discovered it a couple of years after leaving the harem. Every time I came here before then, I’d told myself I wouldn’t look for it, but eventually, curiosity got the best of me.

When I found her carving, I’d traced the letters and felt their familiar contours beneath my fingers. Those days with her were the best of my life, yet she’d destroyed me.

Because of her, Seth didn’t exist. He’d turned into a shadow of himself in that harem and completely died when Knox came into existence soon after I gained freedom.

My new name was born from the ruthless savagery I unleashed on all those I would make pay for what they did to me. And Briar was at the top of the list.

The first time I returned to stare at her carving, my claws lengthened to graze the stone. I considered slashing them away like she had my heart.

In the end, I let them remain a testament to my foolishness. They would forever serve as a reminder of the suffering that misplaced trust… and especially love… could bring me.