AYASHA'S POV
I curled up against the trunk of an ancient pine, my body finally giving into exhaustion. Riven had led me deep into the forest, far from the screams and fire of the camp. The smell of him—earth after rain and wild pine—wrapped around me like a blanket.
"Rest," he said, his voice low and gentle. "I'll keep watch."
"I don't think I can sleep," I whispered, but my heavy eyelids betrayed me. The adrenaline that had kept me alert was fading, leaving me bone-tired.
"You need to," Riven said. He sat beside me, close enough that I felt his warmth but not touching. "Tomorrow will test you in ways you cannot imagine."
"Be honest, why did you save me?" I asked again, fighting to keep my eyes open.
Riven was quiet for so long I thought he might not answer. When he did, his words were careful, measured.
"Because you showed mercy when you didn't have to. That's rare in this world. Rarer still in Lamia territory."
I wanted to ask more—who he was, why he was there, what he knew about the competition—but sleep pulled me under before I could form the questions.
I woke to birdsong and soft morning light filtering through the trees. For a moment, I forgot where I was. Then the memories flooded back—the attack, the fires, the blood. Riven.
He stood a few feet away, looking toward the direction of the camp. His profile was sharp against the morning light, jaw tense, shoulders rigid with some unspoken burden.
"Is it morning already?" I asked, my voice rough with sleep.
He turned, and something in his face softened when he looked at me. "Yes. It's safe to return now. The night's... events... have ended."
I stood, wincing at the stiffness in my muscles. "Will there be anyone left?"
"Some," he said. "The strongest. The most cunning." His eyes met mine. "The most merciful."
He meant me. I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or a curse in this place.
"I need to go," he said abruptly. "The camp will be watched now. Guards will be present. You'll be safe to return."
Panic rose in my chest at the thought of him leaving. It made no sense—he was a stranger—but the pull I felt toward him was undeniable.
"Will I see you again?" The question tumbled out before I could stop it.
Something like pain flashed across his face, quickly replaced with a careful mask of neutrality. "Of course," he said softly. "Sooner than you think."
Before I could ask what he meant, he turned and disappeared between the trees, moving with the silent grace of someone born to the forest.
I waited until I couldn't hear his footsteps anymore, then started back toward the camp, following the trail we'd made the night before.
The smell hit me first. Smoke and blood and something worse…burned flesh. I pulled my sleeve over my nose, but it did little to block the stench.
The camp was unrecognizable in the harsh light of day. Tents lay in charred ruins, black against the trampled earth. Bodies sprawled where they had fallen, some burned beyond recognition, others bearing the clean wounds of blades.
Women moved through the wreckage like ghosts. Some wore blood on their clothes like badges of honor, their eyes hard and empty. Others huddled in small groups, faces blank with shock. These were the survivors—the victors of Nahuel's sick first test.
I counted them silently. We made up eight. Just eight of us left from the twenty who had arrived yesterday.
A commotion at the edge of the camp drew my attention. Riders approached, their horses' hooves kicking up dust. At their head rode Nahuel, resplendent in crimson and gold, looking for all the world like he was arriving for a feast rather than the aftermath of a massacre.
He dismounted with fluid grace, his eyes sweeping over the destruction with what looked almost like satisfaction.
"My goodness," he called out, voice carrying easily across the silent camp. "What happened here? Perhaps we should have implemented a law to stop you all from turning into savages."
I stepped forward before I could think better of it. "But this was your plan," I said, loud enough for all to hear. "You left us unguarded. You wanted this."
Nahuel's eyes found me, cold and sharp. His smile never faltered. "Did I put a knife to anybody's throat, Whitewater princess? Did I whisper in your ears to slaughter each other?" He spread his hands. "This was your doing. All of you."
I bit back a retort. It would do no good to argue with him here, not when I needed to stay alive, not when my people's future hung in the balance.
"But all is not lost," Nahuel continued, addressing all of us now. "How many survivors do we have?"
One of his men, a tall warrior with a face marked by old scars, moved through the camp, counting silently.
"Eight, Your Majesty," he reported. "Princess Ayasha from Whitewater." He nodded to me.
"Pavati from the Blue River territories." A tall woman with midnight-black hair and cold eyes stepped forward. Blood stained her hands up to the elbows.
"Elora of the High Plains." A petite blonde whose delicate appearance belied the dagger strapped openly to her thigh.
"Imara from the Coal Valleys." A dark-skinned woman with elaborate braids, her expression unreadable.
"Nisha of the Reed Islands." She was older than the rest of us, with streaks of silver in her dark hair and calm, calculating eyes.
"Kira from the Stone Mountains." Short and stocky, with muscles that spoke of years of training.
"Zara of the Desert Lands." Her skin was sun-darkened, her eyes the color of honey, her stance wary but proud.
"And Liana from the Golden Fields." The youngest among us, barely more than a girl, with trembling hands and tear-stained cheeks.
Nahuel nodded, looking us over like prized cattle. "Eight. A perfect number. The competition can still proceed."
Pavati stepped forward, her chin raised in defiance. "And the rules of this so-called contest?" she demanded.
"The rules are simple," Nahuel replied, his smile wolfish. "There will be five tasks, each designed to reveal which of you would make the best partner for my son. The tasks will test: beauty, brains, quick decision making, swift adaptation to situations, and sacrifice for the greater good."
"And the man we are to harm each other for is nowhere to be seen," Pavati said, her voice dripping with disdain.
Nahuel's smile widened. "Koda," he called over his shoulder. "Come over here and stop keeping the women waiting."
A figure emerged from the group of warriors behind Nahuel. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair cropped short on the sides but longer on top. My heart stopped.
It was him. Riven. The man who had saved me in the night. The man whose scent had wrapped around me like a second skin. The man whose eyes had widened when he'd caught my scent in return.
But he wasn't Riven at all.
"Prince Koda," Nahuel announced with obvious pride, "of the Lamia pack."
Our eyes met across the camp, and I felt it again—that pull, that recognition, that bond that had no right to exist between us. His face remained carefully blank, but I saw the slight flare of his nostrils, the tightening of his jaw. He felt it too.
The mate bond clicked into place with terrible clarity. The man who had saved me, who had shown me kindness when I needed it most, was none other than Prince Koda—son of the monster who had killed my brother, the man I was meant to both marry and destroy.
My heart hammered against my ribs. This changed everything and nothing. I still needed to win this contest to save my people. I still needed to avenge my brother.
But how could I kill a man whose very presence called to something primal within me? How could I destroy my mate?
Koda's—Riven's—dark eyes held mine for a long moment before he looked away, addressing all eight of us with cool detachment.
"Ladies," he said, and his voice was the same low, rough tone that had comforted me in the forest. "Welcome to the Lamia pack. May the most worthy among you prevail."
I felt sick. He had known exactly who I was last night. He had saved me, comforted me, all while knowing I was here to marry him, all while knowing his father had slaughtered my brother and conquered my homeland.
All while knowing, perhaps, that I might have come with vengeance in my heart.
I forced myself to breathe, to keep my face neutral even as my thoughts raced.
The girl from the Golden Fields, Liana, suddenly collapsed to her knees, sobbing. "I can't do this," she cried. "I can't compete anymore. Please, just let me go home."
Nahuel's expression hardened. "You agreed to the terms. Your people's lives for your participation. There is no going back."
The other women watched with varying degrees of disgust and pity. They had survived the night by being ruthless. They wouldn't hesitate to be ruthless again.
I looked back at Koda. His face was a mask, but something in his eyes—something pained and conflicted—told me he wasn't his father's willing puppet.
There were layers here I didn't understand. Games within games.
But one thing was clear: I was playing for my life now, and for the lives of everyone I loved back in Whitewater. And my greatest enemy might also be my destined mate.
The goddess had a sick sense of humor indeed.