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When I give Ulara a glare that says, You totally know she’s going to kill me this time, I’m met with a look completely lacking in sympathy. The side of her mouth lifts up in a slight smile.
Ulara thinks she’s doing me another favor.
Except this time, I might not be alive for her to cash it in.
Joke’s on her.
I can sense Godric’s and Arwan’s eyes on me as I approach the sandpit. Another pair of girls go first.
One of them wraps her hair up in a tail with a band, while the other already has hers in a braid.
I pinch my springy brown hair and wonder why Godric didn’t think to give me anything to put it up with.
A gentle prod against my back has me turning to find Sofia shoving a band into my hand.
“Thanks,” I whisper as she smiles at me, then hurries back in line.
I glance at her partner, glad to see it’s one of the girls who seems to be injured. She leans on one hip, and her left knee has a bandage wrapped around it, with the pants cut short on that side to allow the skin to breathe.
Looks like the wolf almost got one more girl before being dragged out in ropes.
Unfortunately, that girl wasn’t Violet or Coraline, who are ironically paired up at the end of the row. They shake hands, making me frown.
Whatever deal they just made, I have a feeling it’ll make another good show for the sponsors.
“Look at the competition all you like,” Ferra snarls in my ear. “You’re stuck with me.”
I don’t give her the satisfaction of a response as I cross my arms and turn my attention to the sandpit, where two of the girls face off. My bites twinge in complaint, but whatever salve Godric had used on me nearly healed everything up.
It’s another pulse that has me frowning, one that feels like a cool tingle rather than pain. Intuition makes me risk glancing toward the king, and I find Arwan watching me.
He flexes the fingers on his left hand.
I can’t expect Arwan to save me, not with this kind of audience. Even if our lives are linked, he’s just as dead if he irritates the king.
He smiles as if he knows something I don’t.
Or he’s just insane.
Probably the latter.
A scream turns my attention back to the sandpit, and my eyes widen as one of the girls stumbles away. She bobs her mouth open and closed, shocked, as her opponent clutches at an arrow sticking out from her chest.
The girl had already been on the ground, likely just from a tackle maneuver, but the arrow had made the deciding call. She falls over.
She doesn’t get up.
“Winner!” one of the royals shouts, jogging over to the sandpit to jerk up the remaining girl’s hand.
The shifter with the camera rushes to capture the victory cheer.
I squint against the sunlight to peer up at the wall, trying to see where the arrow had come from. It’s hard to tell, but a shimmer of metal betrays there’s someone up there.
It seems the king is making sure we have a show for his sponsors by killing the losing candidate.
Meaning half of the girls are going to die today, after surviving an evaluation that already had poor odds.
Monster Isle is ruthless.
