Congratulations to Ri for winning the April contest. Four chapters of the book were submitted to this contest. You can find the story in full here.
Summary
I was supposed to be sacrificed to the God of Death. Instead, I broke a crystal older than time and accidentally bound myself to him. He's not pleased. I'm still not sorry.
Now Keane won't leave my side until he figures out what I did-and I can't get rid of him long enough to stop a prophecy that's about to ruin my brother's life. Which means I'm stuck traveling with Death.
He's quiet. He's dangerous . And he definitely doesn't trust me. Unfortunately for him, I'm not exactly the obedient sacrifice type.
Unfortunately for me... I might be starting to like him.
The Jack of Elyra and the Death God
Chapter Four
by Ri
The courtyard is full.
Image Description: A woman with pale skin stands over flames and smoke with her hands raised as if she is controlling it.
Credit: Elizabeth Zernetska / Pexels
I do not mean respectfully attended. I mean packed. Overflowing. Loud. Everyone who has ever wanted to watch a mistake unfold in real time has shown up early.
I stand at one end of the stone circle and squint into the morning light. Dawn is doing that soft, pretty thing it does when it wants to be poetic about violence. The banners are fluttering. The nobles are whispering. Someone is already crying, which feels premature but enthusiastic.
I roll my shoulders.
Across from me stands the heroine.
She looks exactly how a heroine should look. Calm. Focused. Pale blue armor that has never known panic. Hair braided neatly back like she expects nothing to go wrong.
She meets my eyes and hesitates.
"Aira," she says quietly, stepping closer before the signal is given. "You don't have to do this."
I blink.
Oh. This is new.
"You can yield," she continues. "We can tell them it was an honorable match. No one needs to be punished."
How generous.
I glance around at the council perched above us like vultures in velvet. At the crowd pressing in. At the neat little circle drawn for my downfall.
"Wow," I say. "You really waited until the last possible moment to grow a conscience."
Her mouth tightens. "I don't want you hurt."
"That's sweet," I say. "Concerning, but sweet."
She looks genuinely distressed now. Good. Not good-good. Just... balanced.
The horn sounds.
Everything explodes into noise.
People shout my name. People shout her name louder. Someone throws flowers. Someone else throws and opinion.
Steel flashes. Magic hums.
I move on instinct - sidestep, pivot, spell already forming on my tongue. I've practiced this one a hundred times. Simple misdirection. A flash, a stumble, an opening.
Easy.
Except--
"Aira!" my brother shouts.
Very loudly.
Very urgently.
Very directly into my soul.
I flinch.
Which is unfortunate timing, because that is exactly when I say the spell.
Except I don't say it right.
I miss a syllable.
Just one.
The magic sputters. Instead of a clean arc of light, it lurches sideways like it's offended. The ground beneath my feet tilts.
"Oh no," I think distantly. "That's not supposed to--"
I trip.
I do not trip gracefully.
I trip like someone who has made a series of poor life choices culminating in this exact moment.
The crowd gasps.
I windmill. I absolutely windmill.
I have just enough time to think, If I survive this, I will never hear the end of it, before my foot catches on absolutely nothing and I go down.
Hard.
The stone rushes up to meet me.
There is a sharp crack. A flash of pain. Stars. Actual stars. Very rude of them to appear indoors.
And then--
Nothing.
Just before everything goes dark, I hear the heroine shout my name, my brother swear, and the crowd erupt into chaos.
My last thought is faintly impressed.
Of all the ways to lose a duel, knocking myself unconscious with my own spell is certainly... memorable.
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