I pound a fist into the sore flesh of my flank, testing the pain. It is manageable. Amara is right, I am healing quickly. Very quickly. With a strip of leather secured over the bandage, I trade out my pants in favor of a pteruges skirt—the leather pleats only cover from hip to thigh, but the added mobility is worth the loss of protection.
By the time I’ve finished lacing up my leather vambraces and greaves, my shadow is clawing at my throat, as if it senses the coming violence. So much has changed in the past day, and as time marches forward, I find I recognize myself a little less witheach passing moment. I look at my hands. Their appearance has not changed, and yet they are impossibly different. The hands of a stranger. Able to shake a solid steel door with little more than a knock. Every inch of me feels different. Like I’ve become a weapon.
I did not want to tell Amara how much I have changed. I do not want to scare her. But I was not exaggerating when I said I am a very different monster than I was before. I doubt there is a gladiator on this planet who could kill me now, and that truth is more terrifying than I expected.
Sheathing my axe, I step towards the portcullis.
“Ready?” the guard asks, his clawed hand resting on the opening wheel.
I nod.
The portcullis shudders and begins to rise. A thin line of afternoon sun reaches my feet and expands upwards, slowly climbing my body and warming my skin.
I take a deep breath, and in the calm before the carnage, I focus on Amara. The steady thud of her heart in my chest. The trust in her mind. The memory of her lips. The bright timbre of her laugh. She is scared, yes, but her fear is balanced with her rage.My unstoppable Queen.
I allow myself a single moment to sink into her bliss before I bury our connection in the deepest recesses of my mind, locking away the part of me that is capable of tenderness and love. Locking away the fear that grips me. Locking away her ability to see my darkness.
Then I enter the arena.
Sharp, deadly spires cast deep shadows across the killing-floor. Sand grips my feet with every step. Sweat beads on my brow. I glance up, and too many eyes stare back, waiting to receive their share of the blood.
The darkness in me rises, and I let out a feral roar,channeling the injustice and rage in my heart. The crowd responds with a roar of their own. It is so loud that the sand beneath me shakes until grains of dust dance unnaturally over its surface. This time, I absorb the energy rather than reject it. It is frenetic.
A voice booms over the cacophony, and the crowd settles.
Gaius, in his finest dress, glints in the sunlight at the edge of his viewing box like a decorated sack of shit. He holds a microphone in a bandaged hand and waves to the crowd. Strange. I do not recall his hand being injured earlier.
“Today is a momentous day!” he says. “I introduce our first Gladiator, Prince of the Vhorathi Empire, Fury of Solira, Vanquisher of Verdoon, Vexar Valdís!” Gaius waits for the crowd to calm before continuing. “Today, Vexar does not fight for his own glory; he fights for the freedom of his dearest love! A love that defies both reason and honor, but a love that is true.” The crowd breaks out in a whispered frenzy as I grit my teeth. “Behold, Amara! The courtesan that stole our dear prince’s heart!”
I try to steady my breathing. I knew he would put her on display, I knew he would turn this into a spectacle—I tried to prepare myself for it—but the fire that pulses through my veins is beyond anything I had expected. Rage consumes me. My vision broadens. Fists turn to stone.
He called Amara, a courtesan.
He calledmy Queena courtesan.
I watch, muscles tense and shaking, as a chain beside Gaius raises, and my sense of self is consumed in a sea of wrath.
34
A DEADLY PROMISE
AMARA
THE GROUND BENEATH me jolts, and my stomach drops.I’m moving.Or … the closet I’m in is moving.
Ok, so, probably not a closet. Maybe an elevator? A very dark, very small elevator?
A circle of light appears above me, growing larger by the second, accompanied by a distant, heavy thunder. Holding my breath, I stand and wince at the pain in my feet. My legs are shaking, but I’m standing.
“You can do this,” I whisper to myself.
The expanding circle of light reaches me, and I’m thrust into heat and light and sound. Immediate sensory overload. I blink rapidly, trying to force my eyes to adjust, but as my surroundings come into focus, I sort of wish I were blind. Vertigo nearly knocks me down as I take in the open space. So much open space.
I’m above the arena. And there are millions of eyes. So. Many. Eyes. A sea of thousands of alien faces. Screaming and pointing. A shiver rolls over my skin. It’s not thunder, it’s the crowd. I swallow and then notice the bars. I’m surrounded by bars. Why are there?—
My stomach drops.It’s a cage.I’m in a fucking cage.
Ok. Everything’s ok. I’m ok.
