I snap an arm out, grab Jason by the neck, and throw him onto the sand. He stumbles, falls, then casts fearful eyes up at the raging fans overhead, once again baying for his blood.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Robi—”
The sound switches off. Even with the shouts of the crowd, the silence of that speaker is deafening.
Jason’s eyes narrow, that smirk taking his face, like someone might walk down here and escort him back to his cell any second now.
Then the speaker crackles back to life. “Your champion, Jason Hainey!”
Every person in the crowd who came to see Robin today breaks into an outraged howl of discontent. But thankfully, most of them just want death, one way or another, and they make up the greater portion of noise around the stadium, cheers and applause bringing the sharp realization to Jason’s eyes that he is going to die today.
I step out from the shadows, the screams reaching a climax exactly as I’d hoped they would. I throw back a purple swish of silk from my cape and smash a fist into the air.
The announcer has to shout to be heard. “And your Deathball captain, four-time finals champion, fighting his last ever match here in this stadium today to gain his freedom, Marco Verus!”
They scream for me. Applaud me. Love me. They want this, I can feel it in the air. These people want to give me my freedom. They want to absolve themselves of everything they’ve put me through. Make the whole thing good-natured, like it was one long joke.
I’d kill all of them if I could.
But I only smile. Blow a kiss. Then settle eyes on the Emperor.
His face is waxen, gaze as cold as stone.
He did this.
If I’d ever thought for one moment I was set to kill Robin by chance, that look takes away any doubt.
He wanted to watch me murder the man I love. Then make me thank him for the opportunity.
So I slowly clap, raise my hands as I do, then point at him. “My lord!” I shout.
Every eye in the stadium lands on him, and he fights to smile through his hatred.
His son Julius catches the lot, wily bastard that he is. He stands, claps double hard, and points back at me. So I bow to them both.
Jason rolls over and scurries away.
He knows. He can already feel that I’m the favorite today. Any weapons drop that was coming for Robin isn’t coming for him. His only chance is to get the jump on me.
Now, finally, I can take the arena in. It’s a hellscape of enormous boulders towering overhead, shaky-looking wooden bridges that connect each one, and the sand… They’ve dyed the sand beneath our feet every shade of fire—red, orange, yellow, and black.
There are rocks, small enough to wield as weapons, scattered about the place. They haven’t given me anything else to use today, so my first instinct has me grasping a large, sharp piece of black quartz.
The sight of it in my hand lights the bloodlust of the crowd, ridiculous cheers soaring over the arena at the thought of me sinking it into Jason’s skull.
No chance. I’m doing it all by the book. That Deathball has Jason’s name written in Robin’s blood.
I make my way through the maze of boulders. There are tunnels, caves, a thousand hiding spots where he could be crouching, waiting to attack.
I can’t see any sign of the Deathball yet, so I walk deeper into the arena, clutching my crystal.
The crowd is calling out, chanting my name.
This is it. My big match. My final match.
But that barely even registers. All these years and I never imagined this moment would feel this way. I thought my final match would be the usual fear of death, mingled with excitement for freedom. Today, the overriding emotion is an irrepressible urge to kill. I have never wanted to soak the sand the way I do right now.
The image of Robin comes back to me—a picture of his face flat against the tiles, blood on the walls, blood swirling in pools of shower water.
