“That’s what happens,” Yael muttered, reaching over the seat and hauling me back to the front row, forcing me down between him and Siret. “In these games, you either surrender, or you die.”
“So why didn’t she surrender?” I crossed my arms over my chest, casting a quick look over my shoulder at Mountain Man. He was still frowning at me. I could feel it burning into the back of my head as I tried to ignore him.
He was probably waiting for a formal dweller-style apology, or for me to drop and kiss his feet. Problem was, Yael still had a hand on my shoulder, forcing me to stay in my seat, so kissing Mountain Man’s feet was going to be a problem.
“Maybe she thought she was strong enough,” Coen returned, from Yael’s other side. “Maybe she thought that she would become a god.” His voice was soft, but it had an edge of something malicious. It was almost like he knew that she wasn’t strong enough. That she had died for nothing. And he liked that fact.
Coen was a little bit frightening.
“I’m next,” Aros announced, jumping to his feet and launching himself over the wooden barrier without a backward glance.
I looked up at the Gamemaster—a sol male standing beside the gong that sounded the beginning and ending of each match. He was set right beneath the glass box, probably so that the gods could whisper down to him whenever they wanted to see a particular sol perform. Sure enough, Aros’s name was now glittering in flame above the Gamemaster’s head, along with Tabatha, whoever that was. I watched with increasing trepidation as Aros sauntered out into the center of the arena, standing there patiently. Pretending that poor sols didn’t get beheaded there on a regular basis.
Speaking of … “Uh, if you guys die, does that mean I’ll die too?” I spoke rapidly, uncaring which one of my soul-stealers answered.
Siret laughed—loudly, as though he had just heard the funniest joke ever. This sort of weird red haze descended across my vision and I was about to launch myself head first into his face. I knew my head was hard, and it would hurt if I hit him with it.
Yael must have seen my intentions, because he wrapped an arm around my waist just as I launched. “Calm down, Rocks. Trickery is amused because there’s no possible way a sol will ever take one of us down. None. So don’t worry yourself about it.”
Yeah, sure, don’t worry your pretty head about it, Willa, it’s just your life we are holding in our hands. My scowl swung to face Yael. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the deflection toward my actual question there, so either you know your death would kill me, or you have no idea. Neither of which are comforting.”
Siret’s laughter was dying off; lucky for him, because I was still calculating the best angle to head-charge him. Would totally be worth the headache. He spoke through the dying chuckles. “We aren’t easily killed, don’t you worry. And the simple fact is … we don’t know what this means for any of us. Maybe you can’t be killed now either—as in until all six of us die, none of us can die. Or maybe there’s still a piece of your soul inside you. It would make sense, seeing as you’re able to feel emotions that are entirely your own, and you can easily make decisions for yourself.”
Well, that would be a bonus, but knowing my luck, doubtful. If there was only a little piece of me left, I’d almost definitely turn into a Jeffrey when I died. My attention was distracted then when Tabatha entered the arena.
She was just a girl in simple fighting-gear striding out from the door leading below the arena. There was probably a dweller running down there to fetch sols when they were called. I couldn’t see her properly from where I sat, but she looked beautiful and badass, her hair braided down her back, her scowl in place. She walked over to Aros, and then attacked, right when I thought that she was going to say hi, how’s it going? or some other kind of casual greeting.
He flung out an arm as she pounced at him, so quickly that I would have missed it if the girl hadn’t run right into it. He caught her right at her neck, sending her feet flying out from beneath her, sand spraying, and flipping her up. His other hand seemed to push against her face as she was falling, sending her toward the ground much faster than she would have fallen on her own. She collided with the sand so roughly that her body actually seemed to bounce, and then she wasn’t moving at all.
Aros started walking back to us as the gong sounded. I supposed that an opponent falling unconscious would be considered a surrender, which was a good thing. I wasn’t exactly spokesperson for the sols, but I was happy that there were alternatives to beheading. I knew both Yael and Siret had smug grins on their faces, like they were saying mentally I told you so.
Aros climbed over the barrier and sat down beside Siret, looking completely bored. I leaned over Siret, peering at him. “Why’d they pair you with a girl?”