Chapter 4

ASTRID

As Gyles finishes his announcement, he gestures toward the dais and bows deeply.

“Is there anything you would like to say before the game begins, Your Highness?”

Prince Cassius’s perfectly symmetrical face is smug as he raises his voice loud enough to be heard by all.

“Just as I have fought for the affections of my beloved queen,” he says, taking the hand of the woman next to him and bringing it to his lips, “these humans will have the opportunity to fight for their lives. An auspicious act to bless an auspicious marriage.”

“Your mercy knows no bounds, my prince,” Gyles says, bowing again.

For only a blink, Cassius’s face twists into something poisonous. Then it’s a smooth mask once more. I wonder what angered him more: being referred to as merciful, or being reminded that he’s not yet king.

I’ve heard plenty of rumors about the second-born prince. His bloodlust is said to be just as notorious in the bedroom as it is on the battlefield. King Arlo is getting old, and his declining health is a constant source of gossip in the marketplace.

If the Bell Run is any indication of the kind of king Cassius plans to be, Mooncrest may soon be ruled by a complete sadist.

“Yes, yes,” Cassius snaps. “Now begin.”

“Just one moment,” the werewolf sitting on Cassius’s other side cuts in.

From his striking resemblance to the king, and from the way Cassius leans fully away from him, I assume this is Valerius, the eldest-born prince.

“It seems our younger brother has yet to make his appearance,” Valerius continues, his smile all charm. “I’ve sent some men to find him.”

Daniella perks up.

“Yes, where has Cayden been?” she asks. “He looked so dreadfully unhappy at the ceremony. He promised to save a dance for me, but then I didn’t see him once after the bond oath!”

A few of the nobles exchange glances, and suppress their smiles, as if to say, Ah, the naivete of youth.

“What?” Daniella demands. “What do you all know that I don’t?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Valerius responds, taking his younger sister’s hand. “This is just classic Cayden, to—”

“Make promises he can’t keep?” Cassius suggests.

“You always treat me like a child!” Daniella storms.

“That’s because you are a child, Danny,” Cassius says, arching one brow. He continues, too loudly, “I’m sure our brother is drowning his sorrows in some filthy corner of the palace, his mind consumed with all the things—and the people—he can never have.”

He turns to the woman next to him. “Isn’t that right, my dear?”

The woman shifts in her seat but manages a smile that seems good enough for Cassius.

“Well then!” he says. “I see no reason why we shouldn’t begin. Gyles? These creatures look cramped in their cages. Let them out.”

Without a word, Gyles inclines his chin to each of the guards standing before our cages. They unlock the doors and yank us out.

I count six other humans besides myself. When I study the face of the boy stumbling out of the final cage, I feel as if I’ve been punched in the stomach.

His lip is split, his eyes are mottled purple, and the bridge of his nose is crunched inward, but there’s no doubt in my mind.

It’s Ollie.

“Get in line!” a guard barks.

The woman next to me starts sobbing.

“P-pl-please,” she gasps. “Please, my husband died in the mines. I’m all my children have left! They need me!”

The guard spits on her bare feet.

That’s mild compared to the kick he delivers to another prisoner, who has thrown himself at the feet of the monstrous guard who dragged me from my cell in the Tower of Justice.

“You will have the duration of one song as a head start,” Gyles informs us. “And then the hunt begins.”

One song. That could last thirty seconds or ten minutes.

I breathe deeply, trying to keep helplessness from clawing down my throat. I will not let them see me cry.

I tell myself it doesn’t matter that I’ll be on two legs and my hunters on four. I tell myself it doesn’t matter that an hour is a very, very long time to fight for your life. The only thing that matters is Luca, is making it home to him, is buying both of our freedom in gold.

“Are you ready to place your bets, my lords and ladies?” Gyles asks the nobility on the dais.

As they nod, he shuffles to the table set with the hourglass. Next to it are two items I didn’t notice before: a slate tablet and a horn.

He marks down names and amounts, tallying, and when he’s satisfied, he raises the horn.

“Everything is in order,” he says. “Players, on my horn—”

He stops as the dark-haired man, the one seated next to Daniella, stands and removes his cloak.

“Count me in,” he says, striding forward.

His voice is low, gravelly, and his eyes are serious. “In the North, it is only feebleness or cowardice that keeps a man from the hunt. We do not simply sit back and watch.”

Daniella jumps up from her seat, clapping. “I change my wager! I put everything on Jace!”

Jace. So this is the much-sought-after Royal Ward, who was brought to court three years ago to be raised in the palace, among nobility, as opposed to the frigid tundra that his clan protects.

“What do you say, brother?” Valerius asks Cassius. “It should keep things interesting.”

Cassius snorts, then looks over to the monstrous guard standing before me.

But the guard has his eyes set on Jace, a cruel challenge twisting his mouth into something like a snarl. I’m guessing he’s the favorite to win. Or, at least, he was the favorite to win, before Jace stepped forward. The tension between the two men is palpable.

But I don’t have time to consider it. As Jace joins the group of hunters, the guards start stripping off their pristine white uniforms, revealing sculpted chests and thick biceps and toned thighs. I look down at my own body: undernourished, and on the smaller side because of it. I could generously be described as scrappy.

Which is going to have to be enough.

As I’m evaluating myself, the hair on the back of my neck tingles. Someone is staring. I snap my head up, searching for who, and lock eyes with Jace.

Again. His expression is hard to decipher, but it’s intense.

I have a crazy urge to run up to him, beg him to stop this madness, to send me home to Luca, but I know the only true freedom lies in the other direction: the forest.

It waits for me just on the other side of that hourglass.

“On my horn, players,” Gyles calls out.

I take one last look at the six other humans around me. At Ollie. When Gyles sounds off on the horn, I dash off into the trees.