Vengeance (The Prince's Games Book 1) Rebecca Grey (first e reader txt) 📖
- Author: Rebecca Grey
Book online «Vengeance (The Prince's Games Book 1) Rebecca Grey (first e reader txt) 📖». Author Rebecca Grey
"Today would be as good of a day to die as any other, I suppose." I drawl, though I’m not able to hide the surprise on my face from him saying something so brash. Marcello usually only speaks to me in innuendos, not like this. “And don’t you mean hang me with your rope?”
"Just be fucking serious for once," Juilliard interjects, leveling me with his own annoyance.
"I am being serious." I smile widely. "But I guess I can agree to not die today. I don't really plan on it, even if the king and everyone else has it out for me. Even if some of those people are on my own team.” My smile falls and I purse my lips. Juilliard holds my heavy glare.
"I'll forget about last night if you will." He drops his hands to his side, his fingers curling into fists.
"What, I don't get an apology first?" I feign offense.
Speakers crackle behind me before he can respond. The announcer clears his throat and the crowd grows suddenly silent. I let my gaze linger on Juilliard for only a moment longer before I turn to watch the Elf on stage smile toward us all. A buzzing grows over my skin, every inch of me numb and tingling all at once.
"Just call a truce, damnit," Marcello whispers harshly. “It’s just one week that we have to make it through. One week.”
Juilliard juts out his hand. "We go in alive together. We come out alive together."
I purse my lips but take his hand in mine. We shake once and quickly pull away, listening as the announcer’s voice resounds inside of the large room.
"Welcome teams! The day has finally come and here we stand at the beginning of The Oasis Games. Somewhere amongst this crowd is the prince." He claps his gloved hands together wildly. Gazes start darting around the room landing on each Elf participating, as if we'd all forgotten that somewhere royalty is playing too.
The announcer takes a deep breath and continues, "When this wall lifts, the arena will be open. We ask that you step up to the red start line while you get your first short glimpse at the event. With the crowd in attendance I will announce each team before explaining today's task at hand. When the horn is blown the event will begin. Remember, once the event is started there are no rules against foul play, in fact, it is encouraged!" He winks. "The audience loves it. Do we understand?"
In unison, different versions of 'yes' are murmured across the room. The sounds reminding me of the distant rumble of thunder. An ominous sign that the true storm is finally coming.
"Once the event has been completed, you'll make your way through a small hallway where we ask that you wave into the camera for the crowd before finally making it to your first Safe Haven for the night. Foul play is... frowned upon in the Safe Haven."
I look to Marcello. "But it's technically not a rule."
Marcello smirks. "Exactly."
I know on the outside that I look calm, but nerves boil inside of my stomach. I slouch into a lazy but confident stance, waiting as the announcer grabs the large metal lever that will make the wall behind him rise. Today's the day, I tell myself, let's show them what we've got.
The wall rises and the silence that once captured the room disappears as the roar of the crowd in the arena fills every nook and cranny. Even the space inside of my head. The volume of their screams creates a vibration that travels through the polished floors and up the soles of my shoes until I can feel it rattle my bones.
The polished floors dissolve to dust and there isn't much to be seen at first, not with the start of the narrow hall that leads us out into whatever awaits us today. A pitch-black walk ends in the pinpoint of light and screeching fans. All of whom are surely betting on me losing.
As a group we shuffle forward, following the other Hybrids to our very first event. The moment my boots hit the dirt a film of dust covers them and my pants. Clouds of dirt fill the air, kicked up from the unit of creatures moving forward, it clots inside my lungs. Taking short breaths, I refuse to cough or choke on the dust, even as it scratches down my throat.
The cheers grow louder as we enter the room, spiking the moment the first of the competitors enter the light. I leave the long hallway with my teammates beside and behind me, squinting into the fluorescent glow. Half of me wants to find the king and keep him in my sights. Still, I know my biggest worry should be the Games ahead.
In my peripheral, the crowd is a blur of movement that I refuse to focus on. All of me is trained on the mass of green ahead. Like a hedge made of static and grass, walls rise up in the middle of the floor where we'd once spread out the day before. The nearness of the first wall, with five large openings for entrances, forces us to walk along the back side of the arena, lining up behind the red line painted in the dirt, just as the announcer had asked.
Even as I'm aware of how the green walls ripple with movement, all I can focus on are the entrances. Five, I count again, all of which are blocked by a chained and snarling beast. The tail of a lion flicks
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