Teddy braced himself as if it might explode, but the box only held a dagger with ornate silver leaves on the hilt.
Stella stepped up beside him, her jaw slack. “That’s my mother’s Godkiller dagger.”
Teddy had seen it only in a memory his father had once shown him so that he’d recognize the signature magical feeling that a Godkiller weapon gave off in case he ever came across one. He’d been led to believe that those few weapons that were powerful enough to kill a living god had all been lost to time, but clearly that was not the case.
The blade seemed to hum and pulse in the same way all powerful magical objects did.
Xander cleared his throat and continued. “‘In the case of a tie, this dagger will be placed on the centermost stone in the centermost room of the maze. The competitors will stand with their backs to opposite walls, equidistant from the blade. When the bell rings to start the match, the first person to plunge the blade into their challenger’s heart will win the Games.’”
The world was suddenly airless.
The crowd went deathly silent.
Teddy couldn’t help it. He looked up at the royal box.
His father’s characteristically calm expression was gone, and in its place was one of horror. Cecilia was on her feet next to his chair, the first hints of a gathering storm roiling in the sky above her.
“I object!” she shouted. “He conceded. It’s over. I will not stand by while you take your vengeance and pretend it’s part of the Games.”
Endros clicked his tongue. “Surely you won’t ask for special treatment for your daughter, Little Goddess. Not when she has the advantage of your blood.” The god smirked. “Shame that she also has your heart to cancel that out.”
Cecilia looked ready to launch herself into the arena. Rainer’s arm around her waist seemed to be the only thing stopping her.
“Careful, Cecilia. We are all bound to the covenant of these Games,” Endros warned.
Stella looked at her parents, her face pained. The recognition crashed over Teddy. Endros was recreating a scene from Rainer and Cecilia’s history and projecting it onto the next generation. They had already survived the horror of reliving their parents’ worst memories, but that still wasn’t enough.
Endros wasn’t just out for blood. He was trying to shred their souls.
Teddy searched his mind for any other solution, but they’d talked about it back in the McKay Estate sitting room on the day he and Stella had done the tournament binding. As long as the peace held, so would the binding magic of the Games. There was no way out.
The priestess took Stella’s arm and ushered her away from Teddy to the far side of the room.
Teddy walked to the opposite wall, trying desperately to find a loophole in the challenge. Could there be another definition for a heart? Could he plunge it into his own?
No. The rules said he must plunge it into his challenger’s heart.
As Teddy finally turned and pressed his back against the wall, the futility of it all settled into his bones.
He couldn’t do it. He could not kill Stella. Not when he loved her. Not when he knew how badly she deserved to be loved. Not when she hadn’t had the chance to find someone worthy of her.
But she wouldn’t do it either. Stella had killed for him. Teddy had been the dividing line between her conscience and action. She wouldn’t be able to turn the blade on him now. They’d be stuck in a stalemate.
“One last thing,” Endros said. “If you don’t attempt this last pieceof the final challenge, you’ll begin to feel that burning in your blood again until you show an effort. And in three minutes, those doors will open and any competitors still standing will have a chance to steal the blade and beat you to it. Good luck.”
Teddy’s heart pounded, dread flooding his bloodstream as the god lifted the bell and began to ring it.
The high-pitched sound was loud and clear because the crowd wasn’t cheering. They were watching in mute horror, their nervous glances bouncing from the arena to each other to the god who had orchestrated this.
Teddy didn’t run toward the dagger. Neither did Stella. They slowly walked toward each other until they stood just an arm’s length apart.
Stella swiped the dagger up, but Teddy’s relief was short-lived, because instead of plunging it into his chest, she handed it to him hilt-first.
Her eyes shone, face awash with agony. “You know I could never.”
Teddy shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
“If we don’t do it, someone else will run in here in a minute and do it for us. I’d rather it be you,” she whispered.
