That sharp metallic taste morphs into something savory and salty, the thick, viscous texture taking on a creamy quality, like a decadent gravy. That familiar buzzing begins under my skin, just a tingle at first, then growing and growing until it’s like I have a billion angry bees fighting to find a way out of my body. Strangely, it doesn’t hurt. In fact, I’m feeling stronger by the minute.Reluctantly, I release Raiden’s neck and he sags back against the floor. His chest is moving up and down, so he isn’t dead, but judging by the parlor of his skin, I’d say he came pretty close.
“Y-you’re one of them?” Leina asks, her eyes wide and unblinking.
“I honestly don’t know what I am.” I swipe the back of my hand across my lips to remove the residual blood. “But I certainly can appreciate the irony.” Pushing to my feet, I hold a hand out to Leina. “Let’s do this.”
46
My feet kick up sand as I race across the arena. A short sword is poking up from the ground, and I wrench it free as I pass. Then, I dive underneath the dragon’s long neck as it readies itself for another blast, and I swing. The golden scales along its throat part like butter, and it lets out a screech that spears my eardrums and rattles my bones. I break into a roll and keep running, certain the creature is hot on my tail. Sure enough, when I glance over my shoulder, I see the dragon barreling for me. I put all of my strength into pumping my arms and legs, but it’s too fast I can’t outrun it, and as the seconds pass, it closes in.
I can only hope that slice across its neck has done something to hamper its fire breathing, or I am well and truly fucked. It’s so close, I can feel its hot breath cooking the back of my neck. I feint left, then move right, trying to mislead the beast, but it doesn’t fall for my trick. It turns with me, and before I have a chance to contemplate my next move, fire screams across my backand thighs, and I belly flop into the sand. I try to flip over, but the pain in my back is excruciating. Not a burn, I realize, but deep gashes severing ligaments and muscles and nerves and leaving me completely helpless.
This is how I’m going to die.
I’m so sorry, Katya.
I throw my last working arm over my head and wait for the final blow to land. Instead, I hear the sound of a half-dozen voices screaming behind me as the other prisoners run to my defense, slashing and stabbing the deadly beast.
Hands grab me under the arms. “Get up. Get up, dammit,” says a female voice. It isn’t until I’m on my feet that I see it’s Mave and the first prisoner I freed. Pain tears up my back, and black pools at the edges of my vision, but they manage to get me up and drag me away from immediate danger. The two sit me down near the wall and race off to help the others. The dragon hasn’t set anyone on fire yet, so it seems my cut to the throat did something. Even so, the men and women trying to fight it off are wildly over-matched. They fight bravely, though, even as a golden nail guts a man right in front of them and a giant paw sets another one flying.
So close. We were so fucking close.
Then a shout—like a dozen voices speaking as one—booms through the arena.
“Gardis!”
Everyone goes silent, all of us holding our collective breath, waiting. Even the dragon pauses its tirade to back away from the sound. I crane my neck to peer up into the stands above me, and there, standing in that slave master’s box, her arms outstretched, looking like a fucking goddess, is Katya.
And every eye is on her.
47
So, this is what power feels like… I could definitely get used to it.
Every single person (and creature) is looking at me, waiting for my command.
I scan the arena floor, searching for Aemon. Where is he? Gods dammit. I took too long. I took too long with Raiden and—
My gaze snags on a figure crouched beside the wall. Aemon. There’s no telling how injured he is, but he’s alive and that means there’s a chance.
“Protect the prisoners,” I shout in Ümbrian, pointing at the carnage below.
Guards pour onto the arena floor, some from the tunnels, others jumping or climbing down from the lower sections. To my horror, those patrolling the upper levels simply throw themselves over the walls, crashing onto spectators below or to their deaths on thearena floor. I recoil at the sound of body after body hitting the ground with a wet splat. I hadn’t anticipated that.
Our ferryman-guard attempts to climb the wall as well, but I command him to “Stop” before he can leap over. He freezes with his hands gripping the ledge, one foot partway up the wall.
The guards who didn’t splat on the arena floor obey my command and step between the prisoners and the dragon. I don’t know how much longer I can maintain so many connections. I’m spreading myself too thin, my hold on the guards’ minds is tenuous at best, and my head feels like a freshly cracked egg, but I grit my teeth and hang on.
Just a little bit longer.
The crowd watches in stunned silence as the prisoners escape into the tunnels, while the guards die trying to save them. I see a couple of prisoners grab Aemon as they flee and help him cross the arena and into the tunnel. A few intelligent spectators start gunning for the exits, but most just continue to watch the massacre below in befuddlement. All except the male in the box directly across from mine, his ruby encrusted crown sitting askew on his head. His attention is focused solely on me.
King Khalmos.
I whirl around. “We’ve got to go,” I say to Leina and the two girls standing beside the now frozen-to-his-chair commissioner. We all start for the exit, then thinking better of it, I spin around, rush to the frozen guard and steal the pistol from his belt.
Better safe than sorry.
48
