The fighting begins. First, the two inmates chosen are older gentlemen—mid-forties. They’re given a set of dull throwing knives and war hammer. The man with the throwing knives had no idea how to properly throw them, so he ended up getting his cheekbone shattered by the war hammer.
And Sophia was absolutely right. Sentinels religiously monitored us to ensure we were watching the blood and gore, not flinching away as the next victor cracks into bone until the inmate is screaming, unconscious, or dead on the platform.
“They aren’t trained combatants,” Sapphire says under her breath.
“No, they’re not.”
Servants mops up the stage of the last brutal blow. Chunks of skin are splattered from the impact of a spiked maul. The Ringmaster takes his time searching for the next fighters, only briefly interrupted as a soldier approaches his stand at the corner of the stage. The young man with long braids and fresh scars painting across the left side of his face, cups his hand to the Ringmaster.
And his eyes land on me.
I knew it.
Those electric eyes are glowing with the need to entertain the crowd. He smiles wide like a clown who has just lost his mind. Cheeks pull back unnaturally. And he dips his hat at me, pointing and shouting something I can’t understand, eliciting a roar of excitement from the Breed.
Sentinels force their way through the mass of inmates, eyes trained on me.
“You’ll be fine,” Sapphire says nervously, losing all the icy edge she had for me moments ago. “Get to a sword, okay? I don’t care what they assign you. There’s a reason they say you could have fought next to my father, Niklaus. You arethatgood.”
I was never nervous about having to fight, but it’s clear she is. For me.
“Iwillbe fine, darling wife. The inmates here aren’t trained the way we were.”
She nods, exhaling deeply to calm her nerves.
“Good luck.” Jack pats me on the back, stepping out of the way of the sentinels that roughly escort me to the front.
I walk up the steps confidently, not letting myself be fazed by the heat of the torches surrounding the stage, stomping soldiers, the screams of profanity, or the ripe smell of blood from under my bare feet.
Since I was a little boy, my mother and I would wake up before sunrise, and we’d duel with every kind of weapon. I learn to throw axes, swing a whip so precisely I could split a grape in half from several feet away, giving Uncle Warrose a run for his money. We’d throw knives at targets, fight with small daggers, wrestle, and of course, swing the sword until my arm was throbbing and numb from the weight of the metal. It’s like she knew this was coming for me one day. It’s like she planned to prepare me every day so I would survive here.
Even if I’m not assigned a sword, I’ll be okay.
And as I scan the mob of prisoners surrounding the stage, there isn’t a single man or woman that concerns me. Most of them already have preexisting injuries, probably from prior House of Jester Nights.
Like Sapphire said, I’ll be fine.
“Yiéxc seivész!” the Ringmaster announces, stomping his cane on the metal platform, clomping a boot with it in excitement.
I choose his wife.
“Wait…” I blink rapidly, watching the sentinels surround Sapphire. “No…”
“That’s against the rules!” Jack shouts, repeating himself in their language. “You cannot force man and wife to fight!”
I shake my head as they shove her onto the stage, hard enough to make her crash to her knees. And she looks up at me through a mess of copper waves and untamed curls.
How the fuck could this happen?
“No.” I glare up at the Ringmaster, gritting my teeth, and standing my ground. “I will not hurt her.”
Sapphire stands to her feet, unsure of what to do with herself as all eyes are on us. And it’s all too overstimulating to think straight. To search for a way out of this. To get Sapphire out of this. I will not fight her. I’d never raise a weapon against her.
The prisoners gasp and talk among themselves as the soldiers in the stands throw food and drinks, not hard enough to make it to the center stage, but enough to make Sapphire flinch.
The Ringmaster stares at me again, still grinning.
“They will take it out on your wife if you refuse to fight!” Jack hollers over the noise.
