Six
Alara
I’m rocked side to side in a carriage, the streets lined with people watching the cavalry pass over cobbled stone.
I’ve been scrubbed raw by two servant girls after the king left me with them, their hands rough and harsh, no matter how hard I tried to get them off of me.
They put me in the dress I now wear, pulling and shoving me, tightening the back until I could barely breathe.
The dress is heavy and hard to move in. It falls down to my ankles, and fans out at my hips in a way that digs into my skin.
It’s purple and cream-colored, the stitching in perfect condition compared to the crude way the clan make their clothes.
The shoes they put on my feet are too tight, rubbing them raw with every step I take.
They also made sure my ears are on display with half of my hair down, and the other half pulled tight to the back of my head, a clasp holding it in place.
I hate it. Hate it all.
People cheer along the cobbled streets, some outside their shops and taverns, swinging colored pieces of cloth in the air. Their excitement fills the air with a sickening realization.
The Games are beginning.
I look out the window, trying to see if I can spot Effy, but I know she will be in that house, making sure food is made and the place is clean for when Emerish returns.
He would always be busy around The Games, making sure to bring in extra coin. It’s also the place where he introduces new people into the underground. There was always a flurry of more people in the home.
I would watch the parade through the window when it began.
Effy used to scold me for doing it in case I got caught, but my nose would press up against the glass, pretending to clean it as the king rode his horse through his city, guards following on foot.
His children would be in carriages, as I am now, and then the Dragonbonds surrounded by guards would come up behind.
I would see them in their masks—see Rohan, I realize now, looking formidable and scary, unbeknownst to me then who he was.
Does he know I’m in the carriage now? Is he walking at the back with the others?
I slump back in the seat, biting at my lip, feeling more alone than I ever have.
Rohan may have explained, may have decided in the end not to give me to his father… but he had lied to me all that time, didn’t trust me to know the truth, didn’t give me a choice in what to do with that information.
But even as upset as I am over what he did, I want to believe he didn’t mean to hurt me.
Or am I just being stupid again?
My hand comes up my throat, pressing against the scarring there and I will myself not to cry as I look around the carriage.
The collar may not be on my throat anymore, but it may as well be.
The crowd quiets as we exit the gates and make our way down the dirt road, and I lean my head against the window and look to where we’re heading.
The Enclave is a huge, circular stone structure that resides just north of the castle. I’d always wondered what it looked like from within, how many people it could fit inside when Game days left the city nearly bare, but now I don’t want to find out.
We near the large structure, and the king’s banners adorn the outsides, guards at the top, ever vigilant as they watch the carriages arrive.
The ones ahead pass through a large gate, and mine stops after. I wait for a long time, wondering what’s happening and then the door opens to reveal a scowling Declan.
“Out.”
I fight with my dress, hands clenching the heavy fabric as I exit the carriage with my heart in my throat.
The sound of others comes from within the Enclave. So many others.
I look back and see people trailing after us, getting ready to enter.
Up ahead is the king with his guards, already walking off.
Declan grabs my arm. “Don’t say a word.”
I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.
He leads me through a side door in the Enclave’s inner walls, dragging me down a dimly lit corridor until we come to some stairs. They lead to another corridor and when we reach a door, Declan pushes it open.
The sudden light makes me squint as he drags me down more steps and shoves me onto a bench.
I barely stop myself from falling off of it, holding onto the half-wall in front of me.
“Stay,” Declan orders me, standing a little behind and off to the side.
The bitter cold sweeps over me, and I shiver, sitting up straight and gathering my bearings.
“Oh I can’t wait!”
I look back and find the king’s children here, with Ivor and his wife. They look comfortable in their seats, a thick cloth hanging above and draping around the sides of them, held up by large, wooden poles.
Looking away when Alexandar glances at me, I eye the guards that surround this section and I notice its half-walled off too, to keep everyone in.
Or others out.
This must be the royal’s section that Effy told me about once. The mid-tier section that has the best view in the Enclave.
My fingers clench in my dress as I look around, the people loud and ready.
The large space is circular, seats rising in tiers that are quickly being filled up. A large blackboard hangs at the back of the highest tier with white writing on it, tall ladders resting at its side.
The half-wall before allows me to glance down, and the height makes me swallow roughly. Something that looks like sand fills the floor of the arena, and multiple gates are situated around the bottom where people must enter.
The king sits upon a throne on a makeshift wooden stage above the arena floor, high off the ground, guards surrounding him. Steps curve up one side, a gate in place at the bottom to stop anyone from walking up them without permission, and they can’t climb up any other way with how high it is.
The air shifts with excitement as more people start coming up from steps behind the seats, taking their place and my stomach rolls at their eagerness, waving their colored cloths that represent who they are cheering for, shouting the clan names.
I look up at the top of the Enclave, and the ledges that go all around it are lined with guards, arrows notched, the green substance shining against the afternoon sun in the spheres attached.
Nighturn.
“Isn’t this exciting?” Violetta says, and I peek over my shoulder at her.
“I hope they have a dragon fight this year.” Nathanial responds, and a gasp leaves my lips at the thought.
Three sets of eyes look at me, and I look away, my heart crashing against my ribcage.
“Don’t you want to see that, elf?” Nathanial mocks, his voice has a sharp edge to it. “It’s fun to watch them be ripped apart. Though I haven’t seen it more than twice.”
“We are supposed to keep dragons alive,” Alexandar sighs. “Not kill them.”
“You know we only pit the weak ones against each other.”
Where are they getting weak ones from? The Glade?
My hand goes to my stomach, breathing through my nose.
They’re sick.
All of them are sick.
The seats begin to fill up, and others in sections next to ours start murmuring and point our way, well, point at me.
They can see my ears.
They know what I am.
I shuffle in my seat, the king’s children whispering further behind me as I reach up and touch my hair, trying to cover my ears, but then I stop the old habit.
The crowd cheers, whistling and clapping. There are barely any spaces left now, some even standing just to see what the king will do.
This is really happening.
I flinch in my seat when a horn blares around us, and all of a sudden, a large gate at the end lifts, and the clans enter.
All of them.
I lean forward. All of them look haggard and tired.
Blue, red, white, green and black ribbons adorn their arms to mark which clan they belong to, and my heart pounds when I see Tofa and Beau.
Calian, Kaldar and Adora, Olaf, Bellamy and others from Clan Blackscale. And then Nora with Melle on her hip.
Oh no.
Dragons roar in the distance, my head snapping in that direction like I can see them. My heart yearns to go to them and make sure they’re okay… to tell them about Sparks.
Tears sting my eyes, but the horn blares again, loud and long.
The crowd cheers, and the Dragonbonds emerge next, guards walking down either side of them but still giving them space.
I spot Rohan right away, even with his mask on, and his head turns, scanning the arena, alert, like the others, but when his head stills in my direction, I know he’s spotted me.
The king watches them, waiting until they are escorted up the steps to the stage, gate lifted, and they line up at the side, arrows always pointed in their direction.
I understand now what Rohan meant when he said they never leave them, leave him.
Drums sound, and then people are dragged in by chains at their ankles. Guards set up poles in the middle, attaching them to it.
“Ah, I like this part,” Nathanial says.
I breathe deeply as the people attached to the poles claw at the ground, trying to get away, but there is nowhere to go.
A gate opens at the side, and a roar comes from it.
I look and see a bear, a thick chain around its neck and the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
The guards pull it, hitting it from behind to get it moving, but when it sees the poles, it rushes toward them, almost like it’s been trained to, and it lunges.
The crowd gasps, and a woman screams at the oncoming bear. The crowds cheers, the clans step back a little, protecting the vulnerable. My fingers grip the dress tighter in my lap.
She stands no chance as its claws tear into her, the bear’s jaw opening to bite down on her arm, blood spraying everywhere.
I watch on in horror, in disbelief as the noise around me fizzles out.
The bear lunges for the next post, a man, and he just stands there and closes his eyes, waiting for it to end.
Another screams and runs around the pole until the chain has no length left, and the bear has his head between its teeth.
The next person ends the same way.
And then the last, the bear panting, standing over the mess it’s made, chewing on something.