Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Aurelia
E xcited voices reverberate through the vast arena before the exhibition has even begun. I adjust my position on my cushion next to my husband’s as surreptitiously as I can, reining in my trepidation.
I didn’t enjoy the first arena show I had to watch. At least back then I had a friend by my side. A friend who understood that using violence as entertainment goes against every principle I have.
A friend who died because of the brutality of the man I have to sit beside now. May Rochelle’s soul be at peace with her godlen.
As with that previous exhibition, Marclinus is full of energy, guffawing with the nobles seated around us and offering extravagant sweeps of his arm to the audience of commoners who’re packing into the dingier stands. I echo those gestures of greeting with more modest waves of my own.
“Ah, this is going to be a good one. A fitting gift to our people before we take our leave again.” Marclinus elbows me, just hard enough that I have to suppress a wince. “Are you looking forward to it, wife?”
I smile and add one more lie to the pile I’ve told since I arrived in Dariu. “Very much so.”
My gaze veers along our luxurious section of the stands and snags on two figures standing up against the outer wall. Viceroy Ennius has his wife cornered by the railing, one arm penning her in while he grips her wrist with his other hand. Bianca’s typical flirty smile looks tense, the dip of her eyelids more anxious than coy.
I get the impression she’d rather leap over the railing into the masses below than continue the conversation, if she thought the spectacle wouldn’t be too embarrassing.
What is he badgering her about? From the way his hand flexes, his knuckles paling, I have to think he’s holding her tight enough to hurt.
Marclinus doesn’t appear to have noticed his long-time lover’s discomfort—or perhaps he has and simply isn’t inclined to intervene when he’ll get no benefit out of the effort.
I balk for a second, my gut twisting with the memory of all the cutting words the vicerine has thrown at me in the past, the pain she dealt out. But she, at least, has proven she’s capable of being different from that. She nudged Marclinus toward me when I needed him. She warned me of the court’s discontent.
I have to reward what little shreds of loyalty I can get.
And I still don’t like seeing any person in pain.
I push to my feet with a swish of my skirts. The chattering nobles around the higher imperial bench scoot back to make room for their empress. A few gazes follow me as I glide across our terrace, but most of my companions go right back to their gossip.
Bianca notices me coming before her husband does. At the twitch of her expression, Ennius leaves off the harsh words he was muttering at her and glances over his shoulder.
Seeing me, he loosens his grasp on Bianca’s arm and turns to face me so he’s no longer caging her against the wall. “Your Imperial Highness. What can we do for you?”
I aim my smile at Bianca. “I’ve been curious to know more about those hair ointments you mentioned the other day, Vicerine. I thought now might be a good time to get your insight, while we’re waiting for the fighters to finish preparing.”
Bianca dips her head, and the viceroy releases her arm completely. Ruddy marks stand out against her smooth brown skin.
My teeth grit behind my smile, holding back the sharp words I’d like to direct at him. Motioning for Bianca to join me, I tread back along the benches to my seat.
The nearby nobles have already scooted over to make room for my new companion. I have no idea what they make of my calling on the woman who’s claimed my husband so overtly in the past. Perhaps they assume I’m being friendly on his orders.
As Bianca settles into the seat a couple of inches below my own, she speaks in an undertone only I can hear. “You didn’t need to do that. I’m used to handling him.”
“It didn’t look as if handling him was a very pleasant experience at the moment.” I pause and glance over at her. “You’ve helped me more than once in the past few weeks. I don’t mind returning the favor.”
“Well… thank you.” Her lips slant into a crooked grin. “You know, it’s occurred to me that earning the friendship of th e empress may be more valuable than having the interest of the emperor. Your wild northern ways certainly add something to the court that we didn’t have before.”
I have no doubt that if her neck was on the line, all thoughts of “friendship” would fly out the window. But I’ll accept the overture, however calculated it might be. “I’m glad you’ve come to see things that way. I wish my presence hadn’t come at such expense.”
Her jaw tightens, presumably with the thought of her own lost friend. “Yes. You’d save us all if you could, wouldn’t you?”
Before I can decide what to make of that ambiguous remark, louder cheers roar from all around the stands. Today’s warriors are striding out from the ground-level doorways at the edges of the arena.
Raul is among them. I’m not surprised, but my heart squeezes for the moment I let my gaze linger on his brawny frame. His mouth is set in a cocky grin, and he whirls his blade in a showy circle, all confidence.
Then a gleam of white-blond hair catches my eyes as it emerges from a far doorway, and my gut plummets.
Prince Neven is striding out onto the sand-strewn earth, his expression rigid and a mace clenched in one hand.
I turn to Marclinus with an arch of one eyebrow, suppressing my queasiness. “You decided to bring an untried teenage prince into the mix?”
I keep my tone dry, as if I find the matter bemusing rather than horrifying.
Marclinus smirks. “He begged for the chance. Why not two princes rather than one? The audience loves it. He’ll have easier opponents for his first time. The last thing I need is a second revolt on my hands, hmm?”
He doesn’t sound as if he’s taking the possibility of the prince’s death all that seriously .
As he stands up to welcome the crowd and encourage their enthusiasm, my attention slides back to Raul. His stance has stiffened as he stares across the arena toward his younger foster brother.
Neven didn’t mention his intentions to the other princes, clearly. What is the kid thinking?
Maybe it’s a momentary impulse driven by the need to prove himself, and after he’s conquered the arena once, that’ll be enough for him.
Assuming that my husband has judged Neven’s abilities correctly and he will conquer whatever’s thrown at him here today.
As with the earlier exhibition, this one starts with the warriors facing off against each other in pairs. After the first few blows, I’m as relieved as I can be to see that Neven has been pitted against a man of similar size whose movements look a bit clumsy.
Out of all the skirmishes, Neven manages to heave his opponent to the ground first. When he looms over the other man, shoving him harder into the ground with a booted foot on the chest, Marclinus leaps up.
“Let’s have a proper ending!” he hollers into his amplification charm, which carries his voice through the whole arena. “Claim yourself some bloody triumph, Prince of Goric!”
Neven has watched enough of these exhibitions to know what his emperor means. He hesitates for a split-second and then drives his sword straight into his opponent’s neck.
Bile rises in my throat. Is that the first time the teenaged prince has killed a human being? As part of an imperial spectacle, with a horde of Darium citizens whooping and stomping their feet in approval?
I can’t even begin to conceive what that would do to a person, let alone one little more than a boy .
Raul finishes his own opponent off without need for encouragement, though I notice he makes it quick and clean rather than some of the more brutal executions carried out by the other warriors. I sink into my seat, knowing the second part of the exhibition should be less fraught. The animals are dangerous, but far more predictable than a fellow human being.
As with the person-to-person matches, the beast released near Neven is a smallish leopard that doesn’t look as if it’ll prove much of a challenge. With powerful efficiency, Raul faces off against a hulking tusked boar.
I have a suspicion he wants to finish this particular performance even faster than usual so he can go give the younger prince a piece of his mind.
When all the animals have fallen and four of the warriors are left standing, my stomach’s churning starts to settle. The spectacle is awful, but it’s over. Now all that’s left is?—
Marclinus’s jaunty voice breaks through my thoughts. “Hold there, Prince Raul. You’re going to be the star of our show this afternoon.”
My gaze jerks up. Raul is just coming to a halt where he was heading toward one of the doorways like his fellow warriors. He stares up at Marclinus warily, his massive frame tensing all over again.
Whatever my husband is up to, the prince wasn’t prepared for it.
I will my expression to stay carefully blank. Any concern I reveal might incite Marclinus further.
He does glance down at me briefly before going on. “Some of my foster brother’s countrymen have disgraced themselves before the empire, throwing the good we’ve done for them in our faces. I’m sure the prince of Lavira would be more than happy to demonstrate how valiantly he’ll fight for us when called on. ”
Raul gives his emperor a salute that might contain a trace of the crude gesture I’d imagine he’d rather be making.
“Let’s see how he fares with all your attention on him, my people,” Marclinus finishes, and lounges back in his seat.
I swallow past the constricting of my throat. “I see you’ve decided to shake the exhibition up even more.”
Marclinus rubs his hands together. “Sabrelle blessed me with a most excellent idea in a dream last night. I follow my godlen as she guides. She inspired some of the best of your trials too, you know.”
The trials that killed one or two noblewomen at a go. A clammy sensation spreads through my chest.
One of the barred openings to the animal chambers rasps open, and an enormous bear charges into the arena.
I can see at once that something’s wrong with the animal. It hurtles straight at Raul with a ragged bellow, showing not the slightest self-preservation instinct or hunting strategy. Wild, murderous rage emanates from its every pounding stride.
It’s barreling toward the prince like a man so desperate there’s nothing in his mind but doing all the damage he can. Like the most dangerous sort of foe.
Marclinus must have had someone rile up the bear’s temper to such fearsome heights with magic or a drug or perhaps a combination of both. Spittle froths along the beast’s gums as it lets out another vicious roar.
Raul dodges to the side, whirls and stabs, ducks and leaps. I can’t imagine he’s ever faced an animal like this.
Within a matter of seconds, one of the bear’s paws wallops the prince of Lavira across the back. Its claws scrape bloody lines through his tunic.
He stumbles and manages to strike the animal in the shoulder, but it hurls itself onward without heeding the injury and knocks Raul right off his feet .
As the prince manages to roll away from the bear’s jaws, its gnashing teeth rake through his upper arm. Spilling more blood across the sand, Raul scrambles to his feet.
He slashes at the beast’s throat, but it’s already hurling itself at him so forcefully he can’t complete the motion. They crash back into the earth.
I clench my jaw against a cry. My pulse booms inside my skull. The thing is going to kill him. Smash him to bits and tear him apart.
Why would Marclinus want this?
A snarl and a crack of breaking bone reverberate through the hush of the audience. The bear slams its paw into Raul’s head?—
And Marclinus is on his feet again, beckoning to someone down below.
All at once, several imperial guards spring from the entryways. They swarm the bear before it has the chance to recognize its many new opponents, driving their blades home. As the beast slumps, they wrench it off Raul’s crumpled form.
I tuck my hands into the folds of my skirt so no one can see how tightly they’re balled.
Two of the soldiers haul the prince upright. He staggers, blood dribbling across the hard ground beneath him, but he’s alive. My frantic pulse only slows a little.
A maniacal grin has curved my husband’s lips. His voice rings through the arena. “Let us always remember that our subservient nations are too weak to stand on their own. It’s only through the strength of the empire that they’ve survived and thrived. Dariu conquers all!”
He starts to clap, setting off a thunder of applause throughout the stands. The nobles around us leap up to celebrate their emperor’s point even more emphatically, so I heave myself to my feet too, even though I’d mostly like to heave my lunch up my throat onto Marclinus’s polished boots.
He nearly had Raul killed to make a point about his conquered countries and the rebellion.
Why wouldn’t he? He poisoned me, murdered a dozen ladies of his court. What’s a little more bloodshed to my wretched husband?
Numb to the bone, I clap and watch the soldiers lead Raul off the arena floor to where a medic is waiting. The other guards drag the carcass of the enraged bear away, its blood smearing the earth with a dark red trail.
Such a majestic beast was turned into a tool for Marclinus’s sadistic amusement. If even Raul with all his might and prowess couldn’t fell the creature alone, no one could have, Darium or otherwise…
My breath catches in my chest.
An animal isn’t a weapon or an enchantment that our magical wards or guards are prepared for. But as my husband has just demonstrated, an animal can be shaped into a means of destruction against even a very powerful foe.
Perhaps Sabrelle has blessed me with her idea as well.
As the nobles around us collect themselves for our departure, I turn to Marclinus and push my lips into an ingratiating smile. “What a particularly thrilling exhibition, husband. Where are the wild beasts kept when they’re being trained for the arena?”