AVINA
August 19th, Year 100, 9th Era
Treland Arena
The sun quickly sets over the coast, stealing even the stars from the moonless sky. Avina settles Nellie into her basket with a ceramic bowl of water before leaving for the reception next door.
Avina enters a vast open-air structure made of polished black marble columns and adorned with luscious gardens and fountains.
Tonight’s soiree is an invitation-only for the Arena’s most wealthy and influential patrons.
She is still nauseous from Sigvid’s match with Face. The longer she thinks about the competition, the more personal his actions seem compared to his other fights.
“Shadow! Fancy finding you here.” Bertie reaches out to her in his impeccably styled plum suit. “The Beast is all anyone can talk about.” His blue eyes sparkle. He is no doubt imbibing much tonight away from his home and husband.
“What brings you all this way, cousin? Are you a patron?” She questions as he is typically abhorrent to violence as a general rule.
They embrace, and he kisses her head before he permits her to leave his arms. Yep, she can smell the wine wafting from him like a cologne.
“Let me be clear. I am not a patron of this vile establishment, but my husband’s gambling issue funds our entrance into these shindigs. I am here for you.” He smiles, draping an arm over her shoulder.
“I overheard your father mention Prince Sigvid’s new home in the Arena, and something told me my dear Shadow would be a benefactor.” His gray eyes scrutinize her as if she is keeping secrets from him. He removes his arm and offers it to her.
She accepts it, and they sashay into the party. A waitress passes by, and Avina swipes a glass of champagne from the tray.
“Why would you suspect that?”
“Because I have never seen two people more obsessed with one another.” He looks down at her mid-sip of his wine.
“He has been my enemy for so long now. I learned everything I could to defeat him, and now I have. Can I not celebrate his demise?” She takes a noisy gulp of the bubbly wine.
At least they sprung for sweet Timber wine instead of the bone-dry Ridge crap.
“Uh-huh.” Bertie's judgmental eyes bore down on her from over the top of his goblet.
“What?” She narrows her eyes at him.
“I heard he is magnificent in the ring with the dual axes his mysterious sponsor gifted him with. Those I have talked to consider his fighting style a stunning display of power and terror.”
Yes, he is all of those things.
“I cannot imagine who is springing the money for his fancy axes,” Bertie whispers with a smile.
They dodge their way through the crowd until they arrive at the wine casks.
“Whatever do you mean?” A secret grin brushes across her lips while she finishes her first glass.
“You can lie to yourself, Shadow, but do not lie to me.” He pours them both a second large glass of wine.
She sighs, crossing her arms underneath her breasts. “I felt guilty, all right? Had I not brought him in for questioning, the Council would not have insisted on ruling on his fate.” She glances into her wine cup with a softer expression. “At least we are even now.” She mutters.
Bertie scoffs so hard that wine is coughing up from his mouth through his nasal passages. “Do my ears deceive me, or does Queen Avina sympathize with the Beast?”
“Sympathy?” Her laugh is hollow. “How do you compare my guilt over condemning a man to sympathy for that barbarian?”
“Because I heard you paid for him to have a private cell too, not just the hot meals, a bed, and brand new freaking axes, Avina! And the one comfort he does not have are prostitutes.”
She scoffs and looks away.
