89: The Final Battle

Quincy St. Martin

We get up at the break of dawn. We shower together, just us gently cleaning each other.

I let my soapy hands glide over the ridge of his muscles, and my tears wash away without a trace by the cascading water.

François looks extra grim when he shows up to help Caspian dress up in his black fighting gear. It’s what the army wears during fights.

The material stretches during shifts and doesn’t hinder movements in any way. He looks so handsome in it. After he’s done, he reaches for my hand. His eyes run over me appreciatively before he pulls me closer to his side.

I’m wearing a simple pale lavender dress with a wide square neckline. It has short cap sleeves with an empire waist. The soft, sheer material flows all the way down to my ankles. My hair is in a French braid that I pulled to the side and tied back with a white ribbon.

My face is fresh without any makeup on. All sweetness and innocence, just the look that I want for today.

“My sweet little angel,” he says.

“Or your ruthless little devil,” I counter.

He smiles. “My deadly little menace all covered in milk and honey.” He brings my hand up to his lips and kisses the back of it.

“How lovely.”

Our pack mates are already waiting when we step out of our bedchamber. Even Genesis is looking alert and grim this morning.

Constantine, Lazarus, and Darius are in their fighting attire as well. I guess we’re getting prepared for any possibilities. We are constantly approached as the eight of us make our way through the long corridors to the fighting arena.

A messenger comes with the news that Lady Celeste’s father and a couple of other boyars were killed last night. I have no doubt that Æmilius and Katya had something to do with it.

Some twenty or so alphas from area packs request an audience.

They pledge their undivided loyalty and express their gratitude for saving their packs the other night and also for the food and the winter supplies he provided them.

François drapes a cream-colored cloak with thick white fur trim on my shoulders before we step into the arena.

The arena is a huge building not unlike the Colosseum, with fifteen levels of round stone seating. There are areas for the audience to be standing up at the very top.

There is nothing but sky above us. The sun is shining, but the temperature is low. I can see my own breath in the air.

The king, the queen, and the rest of the royals have a special viewing section a few levels up from the fighting ground. This is where we are right now.

My stomach flips and clenches as I look around the arena, which is already filled. My hand is holding his in a deathly grip. I feel sick. I don’t want to let go. I’m not ready.

There are two guards flanking him, waiting. I lift my eyes up, desperately seeking his, to find him already watching me.

His vivid green eyes are intense, always seeing too much, too deep into my soul. I want to fling myself into his arms and hold him to me forever, but I hold myself still.

I clutch at his hand. My chest hurts, and my breathing is shallow and rapid.

He wipes his thumb underneath my eyelashes where a single tear escaped.

“I’ll be back to you soon, my love. I promise,” he whispers before he pulls me in for a kiss.

This kiss is desperate and urgent. It’s filled with hope and despair. It’s full of promises, yet it feels like a goodbye.

Then he walks off without looking back. He’s tall, regal, and imposing. Constantine, Lazarus, and Darius follow closely behind him.

King Alexandros is looking dignified in his seat. Queen Sophia looks aloof and cold as usual.

If there’s a turmoil raging inside her at the possibility of losing her only son, you’d never have guessed it.

I feel Serena and Genesis taking each of my cold hands in theirs, giving me comfort.

There are guards standing behind our chairs, probably with the order to restrain us if we decide to jump into the arena during the fight.

I hear Penny hiss and look over to see Æmilius walking by on the ground level with his guards. He’s smirking while his eyes are taking me in from top to bottom.

~Keep on looking, asshole, because that’s all you’re getting.~

I'm dying to rip the spine out of his back and wipe that smirk off his face.

My eyes wander to where Katya is sitting with her own guards surrounding her. She’s wearing a long black dress. Her fair hair glistens in the morning sunlight.

It is still hard for me to wrap my mind around the whole thing. Being a mistress, a hidden lover to your erasthai, while he rules with his mate as his queen, must be soul crushing.

Yet all the sympathy I have for her evaporates when I think of all the lives lost due to their actions. What I saw the other night was just a tiny fraction of what they had done throughout the years.

I wonder, though, would I be the same if I’d had to endure what she went through?

My mind is still reeling when the announcement is made. Two strong figures make their way into the middle of the snow-covered arena. Æmilius and my mate, Caspian.

They’re the same height but not the same size. Even though they’re both well muscled, Caspian is lankier compared to Æmilius.

“It’s going to be fine. I’ve seen him fight countless times. He’s going to be fine. It’s going to be fine,” whispers Serena over and over again, as if she’s reassuring herself as much as she’s comforting me.

Æmilius goes charging even before the signal is given. He growls and changes into his full lycan in mid-air as he lunges for Caspian. Caspian manages to drop to the ground to avoid his attack, but in less than a beat, Caspian is already a full lycan, ready to strike back.

It takes a lot of practice to phase that fast.

What happens after that is a violent and deadly blur of movements that have me gripping the arms of my chair with my heart in my throat. I vaguely hear the roar of the crowd.

It’s hard to see who is winning, as both of them are covered in blood. Not even twenty minutes in, their fighting gear is already in tatters.

Both of them are looking menacing and ferocious, like the monsters of your nightmares come to life. Glittering, soulless black eyes regard each other with malice. Sharp teeth and canines extend as they growl while snapping, clawing, and attacking each other.

There’s no mercy.

Æmilius is strong and built like a tank, but what my mate lacks in size, he makes up with agility and clever lethal moves. He is cunning and elusive.

He is very aggressive and vicious when he finds an opening for an attack.

Blood and black earth are now spattered across the white snow in the arena.

Twice, I feel hands on my shoulders pinning me in place when I’m about to jump to my feet, wanting to plunge into the arena when my mate goes down.

This time, Æmilius manages to slam him down hard on the ground again. His deadly sharp claws dig into Caspian’s side. Deep red blood gushes out from the wound.

I fight to get up as my vision changes. My nails have sharpened and are digging into the stone armrest. In a blur of a movement, Caspian swipes Æmilius’s feet from under him and straddles him from behind. The crowd roars as he snaps Æmilius’s thick neck.

A feeling of sadness and remorse at what he’s about to do bleed through our bond. I see just a slight hesitation before he proceeds.

I don’t think anybody else watching even notices it, but then I sense a movement behind me.

From the corner of my eye, I see Katya dive into the arena toward my mate. She moves to put herself in between her son and Caspian. It's her last desperate attempt to save Æmilius. Caspian notices Katya too, he drops Æmilius's body roughly before he can complete his task. What hapens next is a blur.

Queen Sophia springs to her feet, but before she can leap in to defend her son, I propel myself up, using all the strength to jump into the arena myself.

I’m on Katya in a second. I take her by surprise.

She still wears that dumbfounded look on her face when I grab her head in both hands and twist until I feel, rather than hear the sickening snap of the bones. I look up when the crowd roars. It’s very quick. I’m not even in my full lycan state yet.

I place my knee on her back, but before I can pull her head off her body, a loud agonizing cry breaks through the savage cheer of the crowd from the ground just outside the fighting ring.

King Alexandros is on his feet. He staggers a few steps and lands on his knees. His head bows low. He’s asking mercy for his erasthai, begging me to spare her life.

I hesitate. I look around to seek the eyes of my mate. He’s bloody and wounded. His intense gaze is already fixed on my face. I’m asking him what to do. But he’s not giving me any answers. No feelings from the bond. No betraying emotion from his cold calculating eyes.

Suddenly I know. He wants me to decide. It’s up to me.

I shift my gaze back to the kneeling king. The king of all lycans and werewolves is kneeling before me, asking for my mercy.

My lycan is calling for her kill. It’s salivating to take Katya’s life for wanting to destroy my mate. I want justice for all the innocent victims of her greed and spite. All those precious lives that were taken so savagely. Because of her. She didn’t spare them any mercy. Their cry for mercy went unheeded.

Yet the king of all lycans and werewolves is on his knees before me, begging me to spare the life of his erasthai. I might destroy more than Katya’s life. Destroying his erasthai might destroy him too. King Alexandros is my mate’s father. I don’t want to inflict any pain on my mate. I grit my teeth and reluctantly release Katya’s head. She slumps forward, lying on the ground. He releases his breath and his massive shoulders sag in relief.

I take a few steps back and look at my mate. His expression is still blank. I look around the arena to seek my pack mates when my eyes fall on Queen Sophia.

Bitterness and something close to hatred mar her beautiful features as she stares at King Alexandros. I know what’s about to happen before it happens, yet I hesitate. Sophia launches herself into the arena.

Her feet land squarely on Katya’s back while her arms wrap around Katya’s head. In a blur of motion, Katya’s body is being ripped apart. Her spine is ripped out.

Queen Sophia’s beautiful emerald dress is soaked with the blood of her rival. With a smirk on her lips, she lifts Katya’s head like a trophy before she tosses it onto the ground.

It rolls and stops right at King Alexandros’s feet.

The whole arena is now silent. Not a pin drop can be heard.

She’s been waiting for this moment for a very long time. Killing her rival without consequences. That’s exactly what she did. Caspian stands up, security immediately alert, but it’s our packmates who flank him. Standing by his side.

He just stands there, torn and bloody, yet tall and regal. His eyes are watching me. Studying me. Assessing. I slowly make my way toward him. When I’m within five feet of him, he extends his hand, and I take it.

His big warm hand engulfs my icy fingers, bringing warmth to my freezing cold body. Together, we walk away from the bloody arena. We leave Æmilius in the Areana, his mother's brutual death is enough carnage for the day.

The crowd roars, but the only things that matter are my mate by my side and my pack mates following closely behind us.