He’s also panting. “You know, that’s the second time I’ve saved your life.”
“If we survive this, remind me to thank you.”
I still haven’t recovered my breath when the arena finallycomes into view. I exhale in relief as Kaidren and I leap off the sledge.
The massive double doors are half closed, revealing a glimpse of the chaos inside. A sea of soldiers in indigo, clamoring to get past a wall of decurio in white on the far end of the arena.
Though I can’t see past them, I know they’re guarding a covered sledge. It’s empty, but the Petruvians don’t know that. As long as they think there’s something worth protecting inside, they’re distracted.
A decurio waits at the base of the stairs outside the arena. She leaps to attention when she sees us. “Finally. Is this the tshira?”
“As much as we could get.”
“We’re taking this to the roof. Close the doors. Don’t let anyone out.” She reaches for a medallion around her neck and flashes it at us.
My breath mists the air as Kaidren and I step behind the arena doors. They stretch up nearly as high as the arena itself, made of thick wood and reinforced with steel.
I press my hands to my door and brace my feet in the snow. I meet Kaidren’s eyes. In them, I see my same fear, my same doubt, my same determination. We nod.
Anxiety is a hole in my stomach, draining me of any and all feeling. I grunt as I shove the door.
The wood groans until, with a rumbling thud, they close.
Footsteps pound inside like low thunder. Hundreds of soldiers rush to the entrance, bashing against the wood, trying to see why the hell they’re being barricaded inside.
We loop metal chains through the door handles and secure them with a padlock.
The doors are locked, and our enemies are trapped inside.
As the Petruvian soldiers hammer futilely, trying to burst out, the Virdeian decurio still inside are racing for the equipment rooms at the base of the stands to hide.
The windy night air fills with the drizzling sound of rainfall. It takes me a second to place what it is—tshira. Barrels and barrels of it falling from the skies, pouring on the soldiers in the arena.
I don’t want to hear what comes next.
I take Kaidren by the arm and pull him toward the grey-horns. He doesn’t fight me. We’re climbing aboard the bench behind the oxen when it starts.
Screams.
Hundreds of bloodcurdling screams, loud and terrified, shaking me to my core.
It’s the most horrifying thing I’ve ever heard. And it was my idea.
The contents of my stomach roil. My knees shake as I lean over and throw it all up.
A few weeks ago, I’d never seen someone die. Throughout the Tournament, I’ve watched several deaths. And now . . . I’m causing them. Hearing the agony I created.
Kaidren rubs circles into my back. “Are you all right?”
“No.” I wipe my mouth with my sleeve and take the reins. I don’t need comfort. I need to get out of here.
I can’t bear to listen to this.
We don’t speak as I begin to steer the sledge back to Widow’s Hall. It’s still so dark, I can barely see ahead of me.
Until the flames rise.
Orange firelight burns through the now-open dome of the arena.
