The horns blasted again, signaling the end of the opening ceremony, and the rest of the world rushed back to me.
The games were about to begin.
Lucas turned and joined the other competitors to prepare.
I lowered my veil once more in order to hide the tears sliding down my cheeks, and Qian and I took our seats as the competitors met with their opponents. Each event was divided up into brackets, eliminating the losers and moving the winners on to compete against one another until there were only two left vying for the final title of the queen’s champion.
I took a steadying breath, and Qian’s hand slipped into mine, giving me a reassuring squeeze, and he patted the ring he’d given me with his other hand.
At first, it was difficult to follow everything at once. Each match was taking place simultaneously, so the arena was a flurry of movement as knights battled one another. There was an archery range where competitors fired arrows at targets from farther and farther distances; a net for teams to play sipa, like the match I’d seen at the great house; and even a field for competitors to play kalahoyo, where the goal was to throw a larger stone at a smaller one and knock it into a hole on the other side of the field. I’dwatched the Olympics with my mom growing up, and it was very similar to that. The teams were competing for different honors, but the Arnis matches were the ones I paid the most attention to. They were the ones that would crown my champion.
Arnis was a martial art in full meaning. It was a weapons-based duel, each competitor given the same sticks. No blades allowed. Before I had begun training with Lucas, I had never thought of Arnis like an art, but it truly was beautiful to watch. Each strike and parry as swift as it was supposed to be deadly.
Some Arnis matches ended quickly, with the losers lying in the dirt, but other matches went on for half an hour or more. It was reminiscent of a real battle, brutal and fast, even if no one was to be hurt. I couldn’t help but be reminded that an actual war had only been narrowly avoided because of our wedding.
From my seat, it was impossible to see whether Lucas had won his bracket or not. I had lost him in the crowd among all the people dressed just like him.
I wrung my hands under the folds of my gown, twisting the rings on my fingers so much, they started to rub the skin raw.
A horn blasted again, signaling the end of the first round, and cheers erupted.
Qian clapped as those who were eliminated left the arena. Among the remaining victors, I spotted Lucas, and my heart leapt with relief. He’d made it through.
I knew I shouldn’t be worried, but I couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and my stomach twisted horribly, but I tried not to let it bother me.
While the remaining victors took a break as the referees reset the field, Qian reached for my hand and brought it to his lips. People cheered for us, begging for more. It was like he knew that the audience would want something to entertain them between fights. But he sensed my uneasiness.
“Are you ill, MJ?” he asked. “Would you like to take a break?”
I shook my head slightly. “I just have a bad feeling, that’s all.”
“There’s nothing to fear. Of course, there’s no guarantee no one will be hurt, but that’s part of the game.”
“I understand. I’d just feel awful if anyone were to be hurt in my honor.”
Qian gestured to the eliminated knights now standing around the arena, dirty and beaten. “Thisisan honor.”
Qian beckoned for more food and drinks to be served, but I wasn’t hungry. The garlic in the lumpia might as well have been radioactive to me. I tried not to flinch every time a plate came near me.
As the day went on, each match got longer than the last as the strongest and toughest put up their best fight. The sun was high in the sky, beating down on our heads when the final contenders for the championship took the field.
“Sir Lucas and General Heng,” Qian said, grinning. “Why am I not surprised?”
Lucas and Heng squared up alone in the middle ring. Sweat drenched both of them from head to toe as they eyed each other up and down, scanning for any sign of weakness or for the best point of attack. Lucas’s eye twitched, and I could tell something was bothering him.
The announcer’s voice boomed across the arena. “The final match is about to begin! Unlike the other qualifying matches, this will be a result of the best two out of three rounds. The victor will be crowned champion.”
Lucas looked strong and ready, but I couldn’t help the twist of nerves in my gut. He was shorter than Heng by half a head, but he looked faster and more agile on his feet. Heng had size and bulk on him, and I could only hope that Lucas knew what he was doing. I tried to remain composed, but my heart beat in time with the crowd stomping their feet, eager for blood.
I’d trained with Lucas long enough to know what to watch for. Lucas had to make killing blows with his batons, tapping anywhere on Heng’s body to get a point. But that meant Heng was going to try his best to counterattack, too.
There was movement at my side, and Nix sat down in the empty seat next to mine, breathless and smelling like astringent. “I’ve been tending to the wounded. What’d I miss?”
Almost like they were answering for me, the referee blew the horn, and the match started.
Heng made the first move. His footwork was incredible. He stepped in, and Lucas deflected when Heng stabbed at his torso. Lucas was on the defensive, only able to stop Heng for so long until he came at him again.
Lucas dipped his spine backward as Heng lunged as if to slice his neck, and Heng let out a huff of frustration. “Fight me, Invierno!”
