Alien Prince's Bride: Scifi Alien Romantic Triangle Romance Novel Page 5

Possibly so. Quite possibly true, even. Only, that the girl who stood on the stage now was more reminiscent of the Violet he remembered. Areon had heard many stories about how she never went out with even a single curl of her hair out of place. Yet, there she was, more beautiful and radiant than ever. All the men who’d doubted whether her beauty was worth the trouble of her personality were now caught in her net. Almost as many looked at her as they did Olive. Maybe even more, Areon wasn’t sure.

  He was still staring. Violet’s long hair was loose, falling in soft silky blonde waves over her bare shoulders, the strand of violet playfully apart from the rest. She was perfectly built, a true calaya – long legs and mouth-watering curves, alabaster skin and a waist that was begging for his hands around it. The dress she wore, now set free from the heavy fall of veils, left almost nothing to the imagination. Areon’s eyes traced the path of pearls on the dress, following along the lines he longed to trail with his tongue. He didn’t doubt for a moment that it was intentional.

  But what really kept his gaze fixed on Violet was her face. It was clear she too was still shaken. Her mouth was open, her lush pink lips parted. Not even all the lights combined could shine as brightly as her dark green eyes, sparkling with emotion, staring straight at him.

  In short, she looked almost exactly like she had three years ago. Only then she’d been a girl, now a woman.

  Areon knew what had to be coming. The Overlord wouldn’t let the opportunity to catch the champions off guard and thin out their ranks pass. He had to keep his mind clear, but it was very difficult.

  The thing was, Violet was wrong. A calaya wasn’t at her prettiest slicked and proper. She was devastating when she was wild. Three years ago, with Violet’s hair billowing out on the floor under her and her eyes flashing, Areon had been powerless. In all his life, not a single thing had been more excruciating than getting up and leaving the touch of that beauty. And there it was again, now mixed with clear desire. No wonder he ached for her now more than ever, the strain of his erection painful enough in his pants to warrant serious consideration.

  Areon knew quite well that that was how men died. Nothing distracted the champions like the prizes they competed for.

  Son of a bitch, he thought. You’re going to get me killed for real, Violet.

  He felt the ground vibrate so slightly that for a moment he dismissed it as a figment of his imagination. Then it did it again.

  Hah?

  The arena itself was huge – a circular area covered in metal plates. Areon had arrived in such a hurry that he’d completely forgotten to take in his surroundings.

  How careless of me.

  At first, he’d thought the disparate floor was merely a part of the first trial, meant to make them stumble and fall before their opponents. Treacherous flooring wouldn’t have been a new idea in the tournaments. One year the champions had fought between razor sharp blades, where every simple tumble meant death or loss of a limb.

  This was much worse.

  It was almost impossible to rip his eyes from Violet’s, but if he wanted to see those deep green pools again, he had to live. While most of his competitors were still caught up with the calayas, Areon turned his eyes down to the floor instead. The audience sitting in raised circles around them probably didn’t see the danger the floor posed. The shaking was still minimal.

  When the chains on the floor rattled ever so quietly, a few others came to life. It seemed the famous champions caught on – at the last possible moment too.

  Connected, was the last thought that seared through Areon’s mind before the floor dropped away from under them.

  The entire arena fell to the chorus of the audience’s collective scream. The calayas screamed too. Suddenly there were much less contestants.

  “Whoooah, whoah...” Areon mumbled, trying to balance himself on one of the few support beams that remained of the floor. There were six of them, as much as he could see, supporting the wide net of chains between them and the arena’s edge.

  Beneath them, where the floor had just been, was practically nothing but screams. The sky was dark above and the chasm was dark below. The only illumination still shone upon the calayas, whose faces had gone very pale. No wonder, surely a quarter of the champions had just dropped... somewhere. Areon was sure there actually was a bottom, but it couldn’t have been a pleasant impact.

  Nice, he thought. A fitting start. A grim reminder that we didn’t sign up for a fun event. I’d be more impressed if I hadn’t just almost dropped to my death, though.

  Through the lights, he could just make out the Overlord, sitting on a high podium, observing the arena with lazy interest.

  You wonderful bastard, Areon sent a compliment to him in his mind, sitting down on the beam. It was barely wide enough for him to put both his feet on it, but he could sit. Around him, the champions hung by the chains. A few had climbed to the beams and were resting like him. No one seemed particularly mad. In a tournament, everything but murder was fair game. Though Areon could raise an argument of the first trial treading the line.

  The Overlord seemed to be fully aware of that. He rose from his seat to address the stunned audience and the champions below.

  “You all know why you’re here,” he said, his voice carrying easily to every corner of the arena. “A calaya is a true prize for a real warrior. You don’t just swing your swords for them – you suffer, you bleed. You fight with everything you have and give all you’ve got. Then you might be worthy of one of them.”

  He paused to let his words sink in. “So this is not a usual tournament. The prizes are great, and so must be your sacrifice. You have only one task in my trials.”

  His cold black eyes took them all in. “Survive.”

  Huh. Easy and catchy. Bit of a bummer, though.

  While the others struggled to reach the beams and the arena’s edges for a surer handhold, Areon took in his competition. It truly was a parade of champions.

  All of the favorites had survived this first surprise – no wonder. It would have been really disappointing to see them go like that. Forial was perched on top of another beam not too far from Areon, observing him with a cruel smile.

  You warned him, Areon thought, more amused than mad. The Overlord must have given his favorite at least a hint, if not the actual layout of the arena. His positioning had been too perfect, too impossibly steady for him not to have known.

  Like that baseborn mutt needed any favors.

  Forial’s gaze was still on him, clearly expecting him to fall soon. But the luck of demons hadn’t left Areon yet.

  God you have all the warmth of a knife in the back, he thought and moved on to the next survivors.

  Maige wasn’t crying, but she was staring intently to one side of the arena. That meant Ronay was alive too, somewhere. All fine. Reim had just reached the edge of the arena and was catching a breath, while more others followed.

  The spider web was still taking its toll though. Areon had no desire to try it out, but it seemed the chains were slippery. Quite a few lost their grip while trying to get to safety.

  Is it too much to hope there is a cushy landing below? Knowing the Overlord… Probably.

  He tried to figure out how many would quit after that event. The tournaments also had that rule. Between trials, you could leave the running to your betters and crawl back home. It usually didn’t happen, but the Overlord had outdone himself. Then again, the calayas were outstandingly beautiful. The lesser champions would probably give way, but Areon didn’t see Forial or Ronay withdrawing.

  To his right, a chain was hanging very low. Something huge and dark dangled from it. Areon slowly rotated on his beam to see better and then wished he hadn’t.

  It was a wonder, really, that he hadn’t seen Grom before. With the floor and the calayas and Violet and the Overlord, he’d missed the champion.

  Grom was... well, an asshole really. All Atreen warriors were naturally big, but Grom dwarfed them all. He looked like someone had carved him straight
out of a cliff, but had forgotten to polish the edges. He was huge and square, the baldness of his head making him look even more threatening. His eyes were the worst, lacking even a hint of mercy.

  He made Forial seem like a cheerful guy and the Overlord a kind and merciful man. They also said he made the Raider Prince look like a fool swinging a stick around.

  Grom’s skills with a sword were legendary. If the Overlord had been younger, they’d be the duel of the ages. And there he was, stubbornly refusing to die. Areon regarded him with a frown. Grom was not considered a fun method of dying.

  Everyone seemed to be taking a deep breath, but Areon was waiting. The spider web had taken a rather large bite out of their numbers, but the Overlord’s appetite was great.

  If he really pulls a giant spider out of somewhere, I’d be impressed, he thought glumly.

  He looked at the calayas again. Maige was shaking visibly, her hands pressed against her chest as she barely blinked. Ronay had to have been in trouble. Marelle looked horrified, as could be expected.

  And Violet – Violet had barely moved. She was still standing where she had from the moment of the reveal. Her eyes were bright and alive, focused on him. Areon would have gladly given a few years of his life, if needed, to know what she was thinking in that moment.

  A new tremor stopped him from making imaginary deals with demons. He looked around and saw others do the same. They were all standing on such shaky ground – literally – that every movement could send them tumbling down to the chasm.

  Then he heard a chain snap. Grom had pulled his sword out and cut through the chain he was hanging on. Holding on to it, he sailed through the air to crash against the chasm wall with a heavy thud. From there, he holstered the blade and started climbing up.

  Not bad. I have to have a word with a certain someone who said your brain was mush.

  Actually, what Grom had done didn’t seem such a bad idea at all. Whatever was to come, it didn’t seem like a good idea to sit on a large pole over a deadly fall. Just as Areon started to stand up and climb hand-over-hand to the edge, the pole beneath him started to shake. When he looked up, the edges didn’t seem so safe either. The ledges the champions had stood on were slowly retracting into the walls.

  Areon looked up to the Overlord. The man was smiling now, in the way he imagined personified death would.

  You have got to be kidding me. So much for withdrawing then…

  He didn’t have much time to send insults in the man’s way. The shaking pole situation was getting pretty urgent, but there seemed to be no way out that he could see.

  Hey, what was that about not murdering everyone?

  It wasn’t that Areon was afraid that he’d die – with his luck of demons, that was a minor possibility. It was just that he had planned to have more fun, and now someone was ruining it.

  Oh well. Nothing to be done about that. Time to see what his charade was good for.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The spider web was collapsing.

  It seemed to do so in slow motion, but then again, it might have been just her. The point was, it was bloody collapsing. This wasn’t a tournament, this was a massacre!

  The other calayas seemed as shocked as she was. Sure, they’d known their tournament would be special, but they’d expected something... different. More competitors – sure. Flashier arenas – maybe. A bit more danger? But not that.

  Violet found herself halfway there before she realized she had moved. The Overlord gave her a quizzical look.

  “You should stay on your stage,” he said.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded. In her fury, she had forgotten all rules they had about situations like that. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Areon hold on to a wildly swinging pole. His arms and limbs were flailing around. It would have been comical had it not been so terrible.

  “I’m conducting the first trial,” her father said. “What’s wrong?”

  “A trial is supposed to be a trial,” Violet snapped. “You know, something you could come out of. Survive, like you said. That…” she pointed, “is just very slow dying.”

  “They’re doing fine,” the Overlord said.

  Violet looked to the arena. Grom was the only one who really seemed fine. His huge sword was out again and he’d managed to actually jam it into the chasm wall. There he hung, watching the death unfold around him almost passively. Violet shuddered from head to toe at the prospect of that being the winner.

  “Grom is doing fine enough for now,” she said, “because he’s insane. Father, this is madness. You can’t kill them all. What are you doing?”

  “They have to prove themselves, Violet.”

  “How?” she demanded, hearing another falling scream. She could no longer look Areon’s way, not when she wasn’t sure whether she could handle what she saw.

  Speaking of levels of tolerance, where was Irmela? Where was the woman who hated the bloodshed of the tournaments? Why did she let the Overlord do that? Violet had been certain she’d seen her mother at the revealing, but she was gone now.

  So they were alone. Violet gritted her teeth in helpless despair.

  “Father, stop!” she demanded, but it seemed like she was talking to someone else. The Overlord had always been kind to his daughters, but suddenly he appeared to be a wholly different person. Violet had no idea what was going on. He was a champion himself – he couldn’t hate the warriors so badly as to want them all dead. Was this because of the Raider Prince and his silly proxy?

  “Stop!” she said, but the Overlord had turned away from her, watching the arena without any mercy in his eyes.

  Even the audience was shocked into silence. Did the Overlord mean to reduce the warriors to seven with the first trial? Leaving only seven alive?

  Violet ran back to the others. Tears threatened to blur her vision, but she shook her head. No crying for a calaya. It was all unfair! What in the name of god was going on? Had the Overlord gone mad?

  Her beautiful day was ruined. She’d dreamed of it since she was a child. Standing there, all pretty and neat, for the adoring eyes of all that saw her. A true prize. This was their day, this was... their day!

  Violet was a calaya. The plan formed in her mind so quickly it almost made her dizzy. Areon was now hanging on the chain, moving to the edge of the arena faster than she would have thought him capable. Only, she had no time to watch him go. Everyone was going to die soon if they didn’t do something. Considering how few were still left hanging, the Raider Prince was probably dead already.

  “Maige,” she said, shaking the other girl. “Maige.”

  The calaya was almost hysterical, but Violet knew she’d be the easiest to convince – she had the most to lose. She had to shake her hard enough to mess up the jewels in her dark black hair to get her attention, but finally Maige seemed lucid again.

  “Ronay...” she whispered. “He…”

  “Is going to die, yes,” Violet said. “Don’t cry! I don’t know what the Overlord’s thinking, but this is wrong. Right? Right?”

  “Yes,” a quiet voice said.

  It was Marelle, the only one who still seemed calm but also looked close enough to fainting.

  “We have to save them,” Violet said.

  Sure, she would have preferred some of them to go out of the competition, but not like that. Not pointlessly, helplessly. Not dead.

  “How?” Maige asked.

  It seemed the possibility of doing something had woken her up. Her eyes were wide, wet with tears, but alive again.

  “We have to make the Overlord stop this,” Violet said. “He can let the champions die, but he can’t let us die.”

  “What?” Lavie asked, shocked, but Maige and Marelle seemed to understand.

  “Yes,” Marelle said.

  “Hurry,” said Maige.

  Violet nodded. “Don’t worry. They wouldn’t let anything happen to us. They can’t. We just have to be brave.”

  The stage was almost at the arena�
�s edge. It took a considerable amount of will to force herself to look at Areon – he was still alive somehow. The man was a miracle, he really was. He’d fallen – Violet refused to think of that – but his jacket had caught on something and now he was just dangling there, on the chasm wall, alive by a thread. Maige had her eyes closed.

  “He’s still alive,” Violet told her as they rushed down from the stage, checking to see Ronay still hanging on. That gave Maige courage again.

  She raised her voice when they got to the arena’s edge. “Father!” she yelled. “Stop this! You’re going too far!”

  The Overlord looked at them. “Go back to the stage, Violet.”

  Violet shuddered. That was not the man she’d known all her life. She peeked over the arena’s edge, safe behind a ledge – safe so far.

  God it’s deep. And dark. I can’t see a thing. That can’t be my end.

  She looked at Marelle and Maige, the most likely to join in on her madness. They nodded, although her fear reflected in their eyes.

  “You’ve lost your mind,” Pearl said as Violet propped herself up on the ledge.

  “Don’t you think this is going all wrong?” she asked in return, hands gripping the edge so hard that her knuckles were turning white.

  “Of course,” Pearl said doubtfully, “but there has to be another way.”

  “Do you see any?” Maige asked.

  She climbed to join Violet on the edge. The crowd around them was already howling in fear. Two calayas perched on the edge of certain death – that was outrageous! Atreens were trying to break through the Overlord’s guards to come to their rescue, but the warriors kept them away. Violet had to wonder why. No one came to stop them either. Did her father call their bluff?

  Marelle and Pearl joined them one after the other and now four of them sat on the ledge, feet dangling above a drop so deep they couldn’t see the bottom. The audience was also demanding for the trial to be stopped now. The Overlord still seemed deaf to both them and the calayas.

  “He doesn’t believe us,” Violet said.

  She was shaking so hard she could barely hold her balance. On any other day, she would have been sure that the Overlord had some kind of safety measure in place – that would explain his terrible calmness in the face of losing two of his daughters and four calayas in all – but everything she’d seen had made Violet doubt whether she’d truly ever known her father at all.