Kiss of Embers (The Dragon Lairds #5)

Chapter 9

Chapter

Nine

ZARA

T he clearing buzzed with conversation. I stood on the crowd’s edge with Drute at my side and nerves churning in my gut. The muggy night air hung over the gathering like a blanket. Fog huddled on the ground, and crickets and other insects filled the surrounding jungle with their songs. The big moment had arrived, and now everyone waited for Bolveg and the Rules Committee to announce whether the dragons and I were allowed to compete in the Games.

But dusk had come and gone an hour ago, and the demons had yet to make an appearance. After a sleepless night and an entire day of worry, my status in the Games remained in limbo.

“What’s taking so long?” I muttered, my gaze on the empty platform. Fatigue tugged at me, exacerbating the anxiety that had kept me on edge since I gave up on sleeping and dragged myself from bed.

Drute glanced at me before returning his gaze to the sea of immortals. “Some of the vampires complained about the sunlight yesterday. I expect Bolveg decided to play it safe tonight.”

Maybe. Or maybe the demon was putting the finishing touches on his speech to throw me and the dragons out of the Games.

Pressing my damp palms to my cargo pants, I swept a gaze around the clearing. Like the demons, Struan and Finn were nowhere to be found. Not that I’d tried to find them. After the scene I’d witnessed in their tent, I’d raced back to camp and gone straight to bed.

But sleep had eluded me. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw things I was never meant to see. Struan kneeling before Finn, his nude body corded with muscle in the moonlight. Finn gripping Struan’s hair as he pumped into Struan’s mouth. Struan’s tight buttocks flexing as he thrust into Finn from behind.

The last had come as a shock. At every moment of the riveting, passion-laden scene, Finn had been fully, undeniably in charge. He’d been mesmerizing to watch, his voice snapping with power even as he spoke just above a whisper. And Struan had obeyed every word.

Then the balance of power had shifted, and Struan had become the aggressor. Although, that wasn’t quite right. He’d…taken Finn, yes, but he hadn’t taken control.

Heat flooded my cheeks, and I was grateful for the cloud cover that kept the moonlight from illuminating my face. I’d grown up hearing that dragons were polyamorous. That they devoted themselves to their mates both male and female. But devotion was too mild a word for what transpired between Struan and Finn. I didn’t consider myself a prude by any stretch, but nothing could have prepared me for the passion I’d witnessed.

And I had to wonder, was there even room for a woman between them? As if I’d conjured it, Drute’s warning ran through my head. “If the dragons truly believe you’re their female, they won’t rest until they claim you. But this could just as easily be a ruse on their part.”

After what I’d seen, it wasn’t an outlandish idea. Possibly, all this talk of claiming was just another strategy for winning the elixir. On the other hand, Struan and Finn had jeopardized their own participation in the Games by declaring me theirs. Was it worth riling the Rules Committee on the slim chance the demons would toss me and no one else?

But maybe I wasn’t seeing the full picture. People who won the Games tended to play dirty.

The noise in the clearing swelled, jerking me from my swirling thoughts. A prickling awareness made me turn my head—and lock gazes with Brader on the other side of the clearing.

I tensed, anger swiftly replacing my embarrassment. I’d fully expected him to show up outside my tent at some point during the day. But he hadn’t. Maybe he was smarter than I thought.

Brader stared, his handsome features creased in a frown.

Don’t come over here. Don’t come over here.

He started forward. Okay, so he wasn’t smarter than I thought.

My wolf shot to the surface, and more tension knotted my shoulders. Drute spoke under his breath as we watched Brader approach.

“Calm, Zara. The last thing you need is an ugly scene right before the demons show up.”

“Then let’s hope Brader doesn’t make one,” I muttered.

Brader moved through the crowd, nodding to the occasional witch or fae. When another werewolf attempted to engage him in conversation, he patted the man’s shoulder and kept coming. I held myself rigid as more than one pair of eyes followed Brader’s progress. Whispers rippled through the crowd. A moment later, Brader stopped in front of me.

“Zara,” he said, his frown still firmly in place. “I’ve been doing some thinking.”

Mindful of our audience, I kept my tone neutral. “If only you’d done that before you left Maine.”

Drute didn’t quite manage to smother his groan.

Brader’s jaw tightened. He cast a swift look around before stepping closer. “I deserved that. But I’ve always believed that late is better than never. Well, I had plenty of time to think after you walked away last night. I apologize for what happened, and for joining the Games without telling you.” He paused, and I could almost feel the people around us leaning in as they tried to listen.

The frown left Brader’s eyes, and one corner of his mouth quirked up in a little smile the younger women in the pack never stopped talking about. I couldn’t blame them. It was an effective smile—one I’d been charmed by once upon a time.

“I was an idiot,” he said. Then he waited, his smile in place.

It took me a second to realize he expected me to tell him everything was fine and that he was forgiven. No hard feelings. I cleared my throat. “Brader, I?—”

“You and I have a history, Zara.” He drifted even closer. “One I find difficult to forget.”

Oh gods. I darted a look around, my cheeks growing hot again. “That was a long time—” I sucked in a breath as he pulled me into him and put his mouth next to my ear.

“Ashcroft,” Drute said sharply.

Brader ignored him. “I spoke to Bolveg last night,” he said, his breath tickling my skin. “I withdrew my complaint about you participating in the Games.”

“Let go,” I said under my breath.

He acted like he hadn’t heard. His thighs brushed mine, and his lips touched my temple. “And another thing. I’m going to win the elixir for you. I’ll help you save your pack.” He pulled me more tightly against him, smashing my breasts.

I tugged at my arm as I tried to disentangle myself without attracting more attention. “Let go, you ass,” I hissed.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“I believe the lass heard just fine,” a Scottish-accented voice said loudly. A beat later, Brader yelped as he flew backward. Struan gripped him by the back of the collar like a mother dog holding a disobedient puppy. A hush fell over the clearing. Everyone stared.

“Agreed,” another accented voice said behind me, and I turned to see Finn emerge from the jungle. His smile was anything but friendly as he stopped at my shoulder, his gaze pinned on Brader. “I distinctly heard the lass tell you to let go. So it seems like you’re the one with a hearing problem. Wolf.”

Tension crackled in the air. Near the platform, more competitors turned, obviously seeking the source of the disturbance. My heart raced as I once again became the center of a spectacle.

Brader jerked from Struan’s grip. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He swung his furious gaze to Finn. “Both of you.”

“Dragons,” a fae dressed in brown leather murmured, as if that explained everything.

Struan’s voice carried around the clearing as he stared Brader down. “The wolf has a hearing problem and an issue respecting personal boundaries. Remind me, Finn, didn’t you offer to help him with the second part?”

Finn’s hand blurred, and he suddenly held a knife. He examined the blade as if he’d never seen it before, then gasped like he just remembered something important. “You’re right, Struan. I promised the wolf I’d remove his hands if he couldn’t keep them to himself.” He looked at Brader, and his eyes went flat and hard. “And I always keep my promises.”

“That will be all, gentlemen,” a woman’s voice rang out.

All heads turned toward the platform, where Inessa stood in a shimmering glow with one hand propped on her hip. Her gown was white again, but the cut was different, with a plunging neckline that descended to her navel. Bolveg and the rest of the demons fanned out on either side of her.

Inessa gave Finn a pointed look. “I distinctly remember telling you to leave that knife in your tent, Finn MacAlasdair.”

Finn swept an elegant bow. When he straightened, the knife was gone and a lock of chocolate-brown hair spilled over his forehead. “Forgive me, goddess. You told me to leave my dagger behind. You didn’t say anything about knives.”

Inessa pressed a palm to her chest. “Ooh, you are a rogue.” She snapped her fingers, and a quill and a piece of glowing gold parchment appeared in the air in front of the platform. “Let the record show that participants are prohibited from using weapons during the challenges.” As soon as she finished speaking, the quill scribbled her pronouncement on the parchment, its feather dancing. It ended its sentence with a flourish and then turned to Inessa, waving the tip of its feather like a dog might wag its tail.

“Good boy,” she said.

The feather shivered, a sense of expectation hovering around it.

The goddess rolled her eyes. “Oh, all right. Here.” She flicked her fingers, and a ribbon of golden light streamed toward the quill. With a swoop of its feather, the quill snatched the light from the air and then disappeared. A second later, the parchment followed suit.

“There,” Inessa said. She turned to Bolveg, who regarded her with a mix of wariness and bemusement. “Not to be rude, demon, but I’d like to get this show on the road. I’m getting my brows laminated at four.”

Bolveg faced the crowd. My heart sped up as he cleared his throat. “The Rules Committee has reached a decision on last evening’s housekeeping matter.”

Blood rushed in my ears. So what if Brader had withdrawn his complaint? That didn’t mean I was in the clear.

“After careful consideration,” Bolveg added, “Zara Rockford will be permitted to compete in the Games, as will Struan MacLure and Finn MacAlasdair.”

Relief loosened my knees. Around me, contestants slanted me disgruntled looks.

“So much for fairness!” a vampire near the front shouted.

A witch in a black barasta with bright red embroidery piped up. “This Games is a joke!” He whirled and pointed at me. “That female is going to have two men guarding her steps.” He flicked his gaze from Brader to Drute, and his mouth twisted. “Maybe more from the looks of it.”

Anger burned my throat. “Drute isn’t a competitor,” I said. “But if you’re trying to make some kind of lewd suggestion, just spit it out.”

The witch smirked. “No suggestion necessary. We all have eyes.”

“For now,” Finn said silkily. He moved closer to me, his muscular arm brushing mine.

The witch paled. But he recovered quickly, whipping his gaze back to Bolveg. “Whether it’s two men or twenty, she has an unfair advantage. No one else here gets to compete with bodyguards.”

The crowd stirred as others voiced their agreement.

Bolveg spoke over the chorus of grumbles. “The Rules Committee considered this argument. Each of the three challenges demands different types of skills that require contestants to use their mental, physical, and metaphysical gifts. It’s an immutable fact that some contestants will have advantages over others in various stages of the Games. ” Bolveg pinned the witch with a hard look. “For example, witches and fae manipulate the elements. This is a gift werewolves don’t possess. So if you’re committed to fairness, I’m sure the goddess would be pleased to temporarily remove your magical gifts.”

Competitors exchanged looks. Murmurs raced through the clearing. A few darted glances at Inessa before ducking their heads.

“Clever demon,” Finn murmured, the hint of a smile playing around his mouth as he stared at the platform. His lips were sensual and well-formed. Soft-looking. They were a contrast to the rest of him, which didn’t appear to have any give at all.

Without warning, he flicked his gray gaze to mine, catching me in the act of cataloging his features.

I sucked in a breath and jerked my attention back to the platform.

“Any other complaints?” Bolveg asked. When the crowd stayed silent, he turned to Inessa. “Goddess, if you don’t mind getting us started.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Inessa said. She pointed to a group of fae in the middle of the crowd. “Boys, if you could move out of the way, I need that spot.” The fae obliged her, leaving a smallish empty circle in the center of the clearing. In a mind-bending move, Inessa stepped off the platform and into the space, clearing the distance as if she’d taken an ordinary step forward. Flinging a spiral of red hair over her shoulder, she extended her hands over the ground and began to chant. But instead of words, she spoke…light. It spilled from her lips in the same golden stream she’d sent to the quill, only now it built and coalesced, forming into some kind of object.

The hair on my nape lifted. Finn stayed close, his arm not quite brushing mine. At some point, Struan must have sidled closer, too, because he was suddenly at my other shoulder. Drute was a tall, frowning presence nearby, his wings tightly folded as he watched Inessa work.

Slowly, the light formed into a large, white bowl balanced on a thick pedestal. It was the Fountain of Truth, I realized, recalling Bolveg’s speech from the previous night. Every contestant would drink from it before beginning the first challenge.

At last, Inessa lowered her arms. The fountain glowed in the center of the clearing, its golden light illuminating the faces of the immortals around it. Water stood in the broad basin, the surface reflecting the moonlight.

Something made me look up. On the opposite side of the circle, Galen of House Baudelaire stared at me with cold, dark eyes. His hair was as black as a raven’s wing and scraped back from his face in a low ponytail. An equally black barasta hugged his wide shoulders. Murmurs rushed around me, unintelligible words ruffling my hair as if someone spoke inches from my face.

Curses. The witches traded in them, whispering them from afar. The dark magic could float in the air for years, sometimes centuries.

I blinked, and the whispers stopped. Galen no longer watched me. His gaze was trained on Inessa, his expression as curious as those of the men around him. As if he sensed my regard, Galen met my stare. His eyes were dark but no longer cold, his expression that of a person who just caught a stranger eyeing them for no good reason. He gave me a puzzled frown like what are you looking at? As my face heated, he turned his attention back to Inessa.

What was that? My heart thumped against my ribs, and disorientation swept me. Had I imagined the first exchange?

Next to the fountain, Inessa tapped a manicured finger against her lips. “Now, where did I put those catacombs… Oh! I remember!” She caught the eye of a vampire standing at the edge of the circle. “It’s always the last place you look, you know?” She brought her hands together in an exaggerated clap.

At first, nothing happened. Then, the ground began to rumble. A low, mournful groan filled the air. The men around me shifted, widening their stances as they looked around for the source of the noise.

Finn and Struan stayed at my sides, flanking me like pillars as the rumbling grew into an earthquake. Drute spread his wings, clearly trying to keep his balance.

A sinkhole opened next to the fountain. The competitors at the front of the circle moved back, their eyes wide as the groan swelled and the sinkhole grew larger. A plume of dust rose from the ground.

Bolveg cast a worried look from the broadening sinkhole to Inessa. “Are you sure this is safe?”

She gave the crumbling soil a thoughtful look. “What an interesting question.”

On the outskirts of the clearing, trees swayed wildly. A crack split the air, and one crashed to the ground.

Struan grabbed my arm, his thick fingers circling my bicep. “Look sharp, lassie. If things go south, Finn will channel us out of here.”

I opened my mouth to tell him I wasn’t leaving when, suddenly, the shaking stopped. The horrible groaning sound ceased, and silence fell over the clearing. People coughed and swatted at the air. As the dust cleared, what had started as a sinkhole emerged as a set of ancient-looking stone steps. About twenty feet wide and dotted with moss, they descended into the ground as if they’d always been there.

Inessa swept an arm toward the stairs. “There you have it. The Catacombs of Uzgal.”

A smattering of applause filled the air. People leaned forward, trying to see down the steps.

Bolveg withdrew a white cloth and mopped his forehead. After he’d tucked it away, he addressed the crowd. “As I said last night, the first challenge will take place in the Catacombs of Uzgal. Contestants must navigate the corridors, which include puzzles placed at certain intervals. There are several paths out of the maze, so the puzzles you encounter will vary based on which path you take. The maze is designed to disorient. Solve the puzzles, don’t get distracted, and find the exit. That’s your task.”

Struan hummed, rocking on his heels a bit. “Well. That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“In addition,” Bolveg said, “contestants must confront their deepest fears while solving the puzzles. These fears will manifest in corporeal form.”

Struan stopped rocking. “Spoke too soon.”

Bolveg adjusted his glasses. “Please note that your fears can neither touch you nor harm you. No matter how real they appear, they cannot make physical contact.”

Dread settled in my stomach. What was my biggest fear? Instantly, images of moonstruck pack members flooded my brain. Maybe the catacombs wouldn’t be so bad. I’d spent a year confronting my worst nightmares. I could do this.

Bolveg continued. “As with all the challenges, your success depends on your speed. Contestants with the best times in this first challenge will begin tomorrow night’s challenge with a head start. Now, barring any questions, we’ll proceed with the Fountain of Truth.”

Silence stretched, and some of my anxiety faded. All werewolves were fast, but I was faster than any wolf I’d ever encountered. If this challenge hinged on speed, I had it in the bag.

After a moment, Inessa waved a hand toward the fountain. “All right, form a line, people. Single file. You’re going to approach, vow not to use any magic you don’t already possess, and drink.” As the contestants nearest to her began forming a queue, she folded her arms. “And just know that this fountain is like Santa Claus. It’ll be watching every challenge. If you break your vow, you’re going on its shit list.”

A haughty looking fae gave Inessa a sour look as he passed her. “Saint Nicholas. You sully the ancient dignity of this competition by referencing human myth.”

Inessa rolled her eyes. “It’s a colloquialism. Lighten up, Legolas.”

More people streamed toward the queue. Struan and Finn remained at my sides, and it became clear they had no intention of moving until I did. With a lingering frown in my direction, Brader turned and stalked toward the line.

Asshole.

Drute appeared in front of me, concern brimming in his eyes.

“Let’s talk,” I said, stepping forward and grabbing his arm. When Struan and Finn tried to fall into step beside me, I put up my free hand. “Alone.”

The dragons’ expressions darkened. Finn’s eyes flashed red as he focused on Drute. “We’ll be right here.”

Drute and I moved to the other side of the clearing. The worry in his eyes intensified as he cupped his clawed hands around my shoulders.

“Remember what Bolveg said. Don’t let anything distract you, including the dragons.”

I fought the urge to glance at Finn and Struan. Although, I didn’t need to. Their stares were a heavy weight against the side of my face. “I won’t.” I lowered my voice. “Hopefully I can lose them once I’m inside the catacombs.”

Drute looked across the clearing, his lips compressing in a thin line. “Let’s hope so.” He turned back to me, and he squeezed my shoulders. “The catacombs are going to throw illusions at you. Just keep your head down and work the puzzles. You’re smart and fast. This is the perfect challenge for you.”

His praise warmed me. At the same time, something bittersweet bloomed in my heart. Drute had always been a father figure, but with Dad gone, he’d stepped it up over the past year. Drute had filled an important void—and he was going to leave another void when he went home.

On impulse, I threw my arms around his neck. He returned the gesture at once, enfolding me in a hug that pressed my cheek to his rigid chest. The scent of rain and granite swirled into my nostrils.

“You’ll do great, Alpha,” he murmured above me.

I pulled back, a lump in my throat. “I’ll see you after.”

He nodded. “I’ll wait here until you go down the steps.”

I crossed the clearing, and I avoided looking at Finn and Struan as I got in line for the fountain. A moment later, however, Struan’s deep voice sounded behind me.

“Don’t fash yourself about the catacombs, lass. Finn and I have your back.”

I’d watched enough Outlander to know he’d told me not to worry. Gritting my teeth, I kept my gaze straight ahead. I’d deal with Struan and Finn—and their so-called claim—later. Right now, I had to focus on getting through the catacombs unscathed.

The line moved slowly. The contestants’ vows drifted back, followed by the sound of splashing water. Tension swelled the air. Struan and Finn loomed behind me, but they said nothing else.

My nerves built as I neared the fountain. One by one, contestants said their vow and scooped a handful of water. Every time someone finished, a golden light flashed in the bowl. Witches, fae, werewolves, and vampires descended the staircase, disappearing into the yawning black opening in the ground.

Eventually, it was my turn. Inessa stood next to the fountain with Bolveg just behind her.

“Remember your vow,” she told me. “You’ll use no magic you don’t already possess.”

Nodding, I stepped to the edge of the bowl. The fountain reflected the night sky, making the water appear to swim with stars. I drew a deep breath and said, “I vow not to use any magic I don’t already possess.”

Light flared in the water. For one dazzling moment, my face appeared on the surface. Then it was gone, replaced with the smooth, inky reflection of the sky.

Inessa motioned toward the stairs. “You may enter the catacombs. Good luck.”

Heart racing, I walked to the steps. Muggy, dust-laden air rose from the opening, which looked like a giant had carved it from the earth. As I hesitated, a low, mournful groan drifted up the stairs.

Goosebumps prickled over my arms. My throat went dry. It’s not real. There was no reason to be afraid. Putting my shoulders back, I started down the steps.

An hour later, I continued to descend the staircase. My thighs screamed. Sweat beaded at my temples, and more sweat soaked the back of my shirt. The air was like an oven—cloying and dusty. The scent of soil and decay coated my lungs. Every time I thought the staircase was going to end, it kept going, stretching into what felt like infinity. It certainly appeared that way. No matter how deeply I ventured, the stairs continued, with no bottom in sight.

After a dozen or so steps, my eyes had adjusted, allowing me to see the rough stone walls that supported the staircase. But even with my night vision, my surroundings were limited to a dull, lifeless gray. Gray stairs. Gray walls. My footfalls echoed in my ears. At first, I’d passed the time singing songs in my head. Then I switched to commercial jingles.

Now, I focused on simply staying upright even as my legs felt like noodles. The steps couldn’t go on forever , could they? Maybe that was part of the challenge—staving off madness while descending stairs that never led anywhere.

Something flickered across my vision. I slowed, my pulse picking up, and peered into the formless gray void several steps down. Probably, my eyes were playing tricks on me. I resumed my previous pace.

Another flicker. I stopped, my heart picking up speed. Weak light swelled ahead. More flickers, and then shadows danced up the steps. The smoky scent of pitch burned my nose.

Torches.

A man’s terrified scream bounced off the walls, followed by pounding footsteps. My breath caught as they rushed toward me. I stumbled backward, my heel catching on the stone, and almost lost my balance.

Serge burst from the gloom, the torch in his hand illuminating the dagger-shaped tattoos under his eyes. He stopped on the step just below me, his eyes wild and his chest heaving.

“Dralak, god of the hunt, preserve us! They’re coming!”

Growls echoed up the stairs. My stomach clenched, and fear prickled over my scalp. Because I recognized those growls. They climbed up and down, rising and falling in an unnatural cadence that lifted the fine hairs on my body. I’d heard those growls for over a year while I hunted wolves stricken with moon sickness.

This isn’t real. And neither was Serge. He couldn’t be. The pack priest was back home in Maine, where I’d asked him to serve as alpha in my absence.

He lunged toward me, bringing the torch’s flame dangerously close to my face. Heat seared my cheek. Serge’s lips peeled back from his teeth as he screamed, “Aren’t you going to do something?”

Not real. Not real. And he couldn’t touch me. Wasn’t that what Bolveg said? The catacombs would show me my worst fears in corporeal form. But the visions couldn’t touch me or hurt me.

Drawing a deep breath, I pushed upright and started down the steps.

Serge followed, the shadow of his torchlight bouncing ahead of us. “Where are you going? What are you going to do?” He hurried ahead of me, his voice rising. “You never do anything! You just run. Always running from your problems.”

I bit my tongue before I could argue. Because his accusations were lies. I’d never run from my responsibilities.

Serge kept pace with me as I continued down the steps. When I ignored him, he grew more agitated.

“You failed us! You abandoned the pack!”

Not real. I jogged down the stairs, my gaze on the swelling light.

“Look at me!” Serge screamed. “Look at what you’ve done!”

Out of the corner of my eye, Serge became my father. His gait changed, his steps heavier as he took on my father’s larger build. Blood splashed down the steps.

Not real. Not real. The staircase ended, flowing into a wide corridor piled with skulls. Thousands of them soared on either side of me, their eye sockets dancing with tiny netherlights. The blue orbs blurred as I broke into a run.

My father followed, and his growl boomed off the bones. “Don’t you dare run from me, girl!”

Tears burned my eyes. Ahead, the corridor branched in opposite directions. My heart lodged in my throat as I rushed forward. At the last second, I veered to the right. More skulls lined the walls, but now they formed patterns with what looked like human leg bones.

“I should have never named you my heir,” my father thundered at my heels. “You’re not strong enough to be alpha.”

Another fork in the corridor. I swerved left this time, and I lengthened my strides, pushing myself to go faster. Skulls flashed on either side of me. My father’s hot breath seared my nape.

“A disgrace!” he bellowed. “Your incompetence put me in my grave!”

A sob burst from me.

“Hear us, hear us!” Serge shouted from somewhere. “Accept the nobly fallen into your embrace!”

Light shimmered ahead. A stone table sat against a wall of bones, its surface glowing like the light from Inessa’s parchment and quill.

A puzzle. As soon as the thought entered my mind, my father and Serge disappeared.

I stumbled to a halt, and I braced my hands on my knees as I tried to catch my breath. My ponytail dangled over my shoulder. Stray hairs stuck to my sweaty neck. A tear trickled from the corner of my eye and plopped onto the stone at my feet.

My father was dead. Serge was in Maine. The visions represented my worst fears. Nothing more. They couldn’t hurt me.

Straightening, I approached the table. Wooden blocks in various shapes and sizes were scattered across the surface. No two blocks were sized the same, but they all bore a glowing glyph. I studied them, looking for a pattern—or any clue indicating what I was supposed to do with them.

“You’ll never figure it out,” a man’s voice said in my ear. I jumped, my startled scream loud in the corridor. Before I could think better of it, I looked at him.

Alix stood inches away, hatred gleaming in his eyes. “You caused the moon sickness,” he snarled. “It should have been you in the ground that day.”

I jerked my attention back to the puzzle. He’s not real. My fingers trembled as I reached for a block. The second I touched it, fire flared in my hand.

“Fuck!” I flung the block to the table. The fire disappeared. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chanted, cradling my hand to my chest.

Alix’s laugh was loud and cruel. “Stupid bitch. You can’t even get that right.”

I ignored him as I lifted my hand and examined it. There was no pain. And my skin was whole, with no traces of a burn. For a moment, I forgot about the vision of Alix as I studied the blocks on the table. The block I’d dropped was unblemished, its wood untouched by the fire.

Fire. The glyphs glowed, each one a miniature piece of art. The witches used glyphs in their spells and curses. It was a complex language with tens of thousands of characters. Mastering it took centuries. But witchcraft was also rooted in elemental magic—and there were only seven elements. The witches divided them into two groups: ordinary and arcane . And there were just four ordinary elements. Air, earth, water…

And fire.

Before I could think better of it, I selected a different block. Instantly, soil filled my hand. Rich and dark, it spilled between my fingers and fell to the table. I set the block down and picked up another. A tiny tornado danced in my palm, the funnel of air tickling my skin. I swapped the block for another. Once again, fire crackled above my knuckles.

Triumph coursed through me. Each block represented one of the four ordinary elements. Maybe I didn’t have to translate the glyphs. Maybe the puzzle simply wanted me to sort the blocks. But how?

“Zara.”

I stiffened at the sound of my mother’s voice. The scent of wildflowers teased my nose, and then she stepped into view at my side.

But she wasn’t real. I kept my head down, and I ignored her as I reached for another block. Another ball of fire engulfed my hand. This time, I held steady as it flared above my fingers. The blaze didn’t burn me, but I still didn’t know what to do with it.

My mother moved closer, and the stench of rotting flesh replaced the wildflowers. “Zara,” she rasped, reaching out a hand. Her shriveled fingers came into view, her once-beautiful nails broken and caked with dirt. A maggot dropped onto the table and wriggled among the blocks.

Tears burned my throat. The fire in my hand continued to dance merrily. How the fuck was I supposed to figure this out? Frustration rose hot and thick, and I tossed the block away. It tumbled across the table, settling at the top of the jumble of blocks. The fire winked out. The block’s glyph flared more brightly. A second later, the block disappeared.

My heart raced. I grabbed another block. Water rushed over my wrist. I hesitated, then replaced the block and picked up another. Fire flared. I stared at it for a second, then leaned over and placed it at the top of the table.

The glyph brightened, and the block disappeared.

Yes! The fire had to go on top. My heart pumped faster as I lifted block after block, hunting for fire. Each time I found it, I placed those blocks above the others. One by one, the blocks vanished. When I ran out of fire, I switched to earth.

Nothing. The block remained, its glyph unchanging.

“You’re not fit to lead,” Brader said at my side. “I’ve spoken to the Council. I told them everything. How you threw yourself at me.”

I clenched my jaw. He was a figment of my imagination. That was all.

Next, I placed an air block above the others. The glyph flared, and the block disappeared. And, suddenly, I understood why. Witchcraft was about science and precision. Every time I’d seen the ordinary elements symbolized, they went in a specific order. Earth rose out of water, air rose from the earth, and fire burned above all. If I could make all the blocks disappear, I might “win” the puzzle.

My nerves jangled as I tested my theory, moving blocks and watching them vanish. Sweat dripped into my eyes, forcing me to pause every few minutes and swipe at my brow. When the last block winked out of sight, I stepped back and waited. Alix and my mother were gone, but others would undoubtedly take their place. Sweat stung my eyes, and my heart tried to beat from my chest.

Silence stretched. Nothing happened.

My heart sank.

The ground shuddered, knocking me sideways. I managed to stay on my feet as the table sank into the ground. Behind it, a line of golden light streaked from the top of the wall of skulls to the bottom. It blazed for a second, and then the two halves of the wall swung inward, revealing a doorway. Through it, another corridor stretched into the distance.

I’d solved the first puzzle. Hope surged, and I raced forward and slipped through the doors. The corridor was more of the same: creepy skulls, femur bones, and glowing blue netherlights. I broke into a jog, my head on a swivel as I searched for the next puzzle. The corridor forked here and there, and I could only hope I chose correctly each time I followed a new twist or turn.

On one occasion, I rounded a corner and nearly collided with a long-haired fae. He cursed as he sprang backward, moving with the agility his people were known for. Dirt streaked his face, and he scowled at me as he wiped sweat from his forehead.

“Watch where you’re going, female.”

“Are you real?” I demanded, braced for him to morph into someone from my past.

The fae’s scowl deepened. “It’s a thousand degrees in these tunnels, and I’m solving puzzles when I could be binge-watching The Bear . Trust me, I’d give my left nut for none of this to be real right now.” He shoved past me and jogged away, his sheet of hair flowing behind him.

I encountered a few other competitors as I continued through the catacombs. A fellow werewolf gave me a terse nod. One of the female fae who’d spoken to the gym bro ignored me as she passed. Every now and then, a scream or shout drifted through the walls. I couldn’t decide if it was comforting or terrifying to know that everyone else was having the same miserable experience.

A half hour and countless corridors later, another shimmering table came into view. My gasp of relief was loud as I hurried forward. Just before I reached the table, however, it slid into the ground.

“No!” I skidded to a stop, panic rising in my throat. As the table disappeared, a giant, glowing rectangle formed on the wall in front of me. It stretched across the skulls…and then darkened to a velvety black. Slowly, twinkling pinpoints of light appeared. After a moment, a glowing white orb slid to the top quarter of the rectangle. Heat bathed my face.

It was the moon. And the rectangle was the night sky.

Something shimmered in the corner of my vision. I turned to find a miniature replica of the Big Dipper twinkling in the air beside me. Somehow, I knew exactly what I had to do.

Reaching out, I touched my fingertips to the constellation. The stars clung to my fingers like confetti as I slid them through the air and guided them to their proper position. As soon as the Dipper was in place, another constellation appeared. Then another and another, until the sky glittered with stars.

A smile pulled at my lips. The puzzle was tailor-made for me. I’d spent my whole life bending to the whims of the moon.

When light streaked vertically down the wall, I wasted no time darting into the next corridor. More twists and turns. More forks in the tunnels. The skulls grinned. The netherlights danced.

And a third table shimmered against a wall. Determination coursed through me. I’d nailed that last puzzle. Time for a repeat. I was halfway to the table when Serge’s voice rang out.

“Hear us, hear us, hear us!”

Wind whipped down the corridor. I froze as the scent of rain and soil filled the air. A rhythmic, metallic sound echoed off the bones on the walls.

Shovels.

I looked down to see grass and dead leaves under my feet. When I looked up, Alix glared at me across an open grave. He gripped his sword hilt with white-knuckled fingers.

“Your father would have never let this happen.”

Female laughter lifted the hair on my nape. Dread settled in my gut. A heartbeat later, I understood why.

The source of the laughter stepped into view, and I faced off with…me.

Not real. But the vision was like looking into a mirror. The illusion of me wore my clothes. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Damp strands clung to her neck. Her brown eyes were the same ones I’d seen reflected back at me for sixty-five years.

They widened now, and Illusion Zara angled her body, exposing the gravesite behind her. “Oh, you thought you could win a magic potion and wish all your problems away?”

She wasn’t real. She couldn’t hurt me.

Illusion Me’s lips formed a pout. “Poor little baby, losing mommy and daddy in the same year.” She moved closer, the toes of her shoes nearly touching mine. “I bet you worry you’ll die too.”

My heart thumped painfully. Some part of me knew what was coming, but advance notice didn’t soften the blow.

Her eyes lightened to gold. A growl rumbled in her throat, and her mouth stretched wide—and then kept on going, pulling in an unnatural shape. The tendons in her jaw snapped. Her fangs sliced through her bottom lip, and drool spilled down her chin. Angry red splotches spread over her face and neck. The whites of her eyes yellowed. Bubbles of skin bulged from her face as moon sickness ravaged her body.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded, her words mangled by her ruined jaw. “You don’t like how it looks?” She lunged forward. I staggered back, my heart trying to pound from my chest.

Not real. She couldn’t hurt me.

My doppelganger flashed a gruesome grin. Then she grabbed my throat.