"You will die. All of you will die. And then they'll kill everyone else!" I shoved Braze. The man let me, it was as if he already accepted his fate.
"Valin?" I asked. "Is this truly what you want?" The youngest of the brothers, the quiet observant one, cast down his eyes.
"We want glory. His Highness will see our talent and choose whomever is most worthy." Klarc smirked.
"It was you!" I raised my voice. "Are you so thick-headed, that you're willing to sacrifice your brother's lives? How could you suggest this to the prince?” Klarc basked in the urgency and emotion he got out of me.
This damn brute.
"I'll speak to Fala. There is no chance she will let this happen," I breathlessly spoke. Pieces of my mind crumbled slowly. Ezra pulled me by my elbow. "It could be a sign. The royalty of Apollo sits there. Our enemies," he whispered.
How could he think that this was a way out for me? It was the worst turn the night could take.
"No," I simply said. My composure was lost, and I was summoning the fire spirits within the blades who eagerly responded to my call.
"Morana. Stand down." A voice of steel cut in.
"It's true. You will not be fighting them," Fala confirmed from the opening of the tent. My heart thundered, no cliftolights means no performance. No performance means no raise. That did not matter much, as we would all die from the hands of the cliftolights if I was not allowed to fight them. I swallowed and I gave a forced nod.
It was an order from her.
I trusted her.
I obeyed her.
Chapter 15
The Cruel Irony
Spectators tore through the entrance. The arena was filled to its maximum capacity and guards, a brigade of them including the prince's men, were stationed in all exits and entrances. My blood was racing. Golden flyers scattered the floor. My heart felt cold and my face was devoid of emotion. Arena warriors like myself stood on our own personal balconies, spectating the first performance. I barely ever spent time here, I was always preparing, doing, moving, working. Now I'm here. Left with no performance. Glaring daggers at the sprawled prince and it was as if he felt it, his head casually turned to our direction. The arena warriors beside me tensed and gave a bow. Ruby coloured eyes bored into mine.
He had his father's eyes...
I bit my tongue to feel some kind of sensation. My body felt as if it were going into shock. Darkness swarmed inside me and the little girl in my mind whimpered. I suffocated her, until she was subdued.
Fala and Dritan sat side by side in padded chairs next to the prince’s balcony. I felt Ezra behind me before he spoke. "Everything happens for a reason."
"Not unless I take charge of what's needed," I mutter, staring at the shadowed pathway that the Adonis brothers should step through at any moment.
"They're goddess blessed. They might stand a chance." The golden paint on Ezra's body twinkled from the lantern lights and fire pitchers on the walls. The gold on his face made the blue in his eyes look paler. Rhey swirled around his neck. Catching some golden paint onto his blue-black scales.
"I'm the only one who has ever killed a cliftolight. It was not an easy task." My heart thumped harder.
"For everyone's sake, Morana. Let's hope they can. We as warriors can't interfere with the fight unless they are dead. It’s arena—"
I cut him off abruptly, fuming. "Arena code. Yes. Only unless they ask for help."
I want Klarc to beg.
I frowned at my sudden thoughts, clenching my fists and breathing slowly.
"Mortals. They die. They're fated to. All eventually have to die."A velvet soothing voice caressed my mind. Its shadows swarming near my heart. My ribcage a gate they want to pass.
"No," I whispered.
Ezra looked down at me questioningly. He must have thought I was going mad. The drums began in a thunderous loud beat,silencing spectators. Dritan, in all his power, stood from his seat and acknowledged his people.
Fala played with the material on her chair, looking flawless.
