Chapter 16 #2
The royal box’s walls were painted in a better shade of gold, cleaner than the rest of the arena.
Pink velvet seats with gilded frames were positioned for excellent viewing.
Six of them, the largest at the best point.
Curtains were drawn across the window, awaiting me to address the crowd. I had some things to say.
I moved to stand before the large chair, with Maeve standing to my right. The mayor took the left position, while some Gentry hangers-on took their positions in the other seats. Slaves stood with their backs to the wall, awaiting command.
“Whenever you’re ready to address the arena, Your Highness, please give me the sign.” The mayor’s voice squeaked.
I made them wait, staring ahead at the slight gap of light in the curtains. Thinking. Dwelling. Trying not to listen to the masses in the amphitheater beyond. Trying not to cry. Trying not to think about the time Boyd and I had kissed.
Down on the beach by the water’s edge one sunset. We were eighteen and drinking too much wine. Left alone to ourselves, giddy with laughter and alcohol, Boyd had fired off some absurd joke.
“Why did the pixie cross the road?” he’d opened the ‘joke.’
“Why?” I remember hiccupping twice in quick succession.
“To get to the other side.”
I frowned at him as he giggled. “What?”
“Don’t you get it, Valy?”
“What is there to get? Of course, the pixie would want to get to the other side. Isn’t that the point of crossing a road?”
He groaned.
“And,” hiccup, hiccup, “a pixie wouldn’t worry about crossing the road when it could fly. Yes, it would fly across, but I’m assuming you’re talking about feet, not wings.”
Boyd roared with laughter. “You really know how to turn a thing into another thing.” He slapped me on the back.
I slapped him back. “It didn’t make sense to me.”
“I knew I should’ve left the chicken in.”
“What?”
“I replaced pixie with chicken.”
“Chicken? That really doesn’t make sense.”
He snorted. “It’s a classic joke. Old as time. You’ve never heard it before.”
“No. Thank goodness.”
Tickling commenced. Drunken silliness. Wrestling on the sand, laughing at the edge of the waves. Until he pinned my hands behind my head, nose touching mine.
The laughter subsided, our eyes joined together under the sky of colorful fire. Nothing but the sound of the ocean, the caw of seagulls, and us in this embrace.
He’d brought his lips to mine. A kiss as delicate as a butterfly’s wing.
Our lips moved gently, parted, tongues cautiously exploring.
His body pressed to mine, and… and we stopped.
And laughed. No awkwardness. There didn’t need to be.
We knew what we meant to each other and how silly we could be on wine.
“You’re a good kisser,” he’d said to me.
“You too.” I licked the tip of his nose, and we wrestled again.
It was a lovely memory. One of many solidifications of our relationship. We went on to kiss a lot—friendly pecs and such. All three of us. United against the world. Rocks in many storms.
“And now you’re gone,” I whispered.
“Your Highness?” Mayor Franklyn said. “Are you all right?”
I straightened. “I’m fine, thank you. Open the curtains.”
They opened, the royal box flooding with sunlight. The crowd roared with cheers and chants of the royal name. I listened for half a minute, then lifted my hands for silence.
The amphitheater was tall, with a lot of seating spread across the circular building.
Made of sandstone with a pit of sand in the center.
The fighting pit. I took it all in, the height of the structure, the barred gates holding the fighters.
The audience fell completely silent, awaiting their prince.
There were copper pipes built into the walls, coned ends fixed into this space and around the arena to carry sound to the crowd when I spoke.
My voice had to be loud enough, though. A strong and proud voice was expected for a royal address.
My voice wasn’t the strongest by any means, but that didn’t deter me.
I went straight in with my speech. “Today, you shall witness death as you always do.” Loud enough? Yes. “But today, it will come with a twist. One of these fighters is condemned to die. You will be witnessing an execution.” My eyes roamed the silent crowd. “The execution of a shadow sorcerer.”
Hushed mutterings.
I called for silence again with my hands.
“Some of you may have heard of his arrival to our fair lands, may have heard what happened to a dear friend of mine.” I drew in a breath, steadied myself against the grief tide.
“This creature is the lowest of scum. He must die. Fast or slow, I no longer care. As long as he dies today. Which, when you see him, you’ll understand why he must die from the smell alone. ” That stirred some laughter.
I waited, watched these people ready for bloodshed.
“As much violence as we are about to enjoy, I want to do something special in my friend’s honor.
” Again, I held back that awful tide threatening to sweep me away.
“I have another fighter in the arena today, one I hope will win me some gold. Probably not against Bones, but I’ve placed worse bets.
” More laughter. “Any coin I happen to win will be donated to the poor of the city today, along with a further thousand gold on top of that. For the memory of my friend, for the spirit of goodwill in the face of so much sorrow.”
A huge cheer erupted, the stomping sending tremors under my feet.
There, not such a cursed prince. “Now, on with the fight!”
Daire would be spinning in his grave!
With my address done, I let the noise and excitement roll over me.
“That is so kind of you, Your Highness,” the mayor said.
I shrugged, not really understanding why I’d made such a statement.
What would that gold really do to feed the mouths of the poor?
How far would it really stretch? I could do more.
All of us with money in this box could do more.
But such was life and all its pain. A million differences needed to be made.
Oh, well. At least some bellies would be full tonight.
Leaning back in the chair, one leg crossed over the other, I waited for Ren’s end to come and for Kormac to give me a show.