Chapter Fifty-Two
Oh, the desert folk love to gamble. Just as much as they like to drink. And to witness their strange creatures fight.
Tabitha Wysteria
Dawn ought to have felt uneasy riding the dragon with Kai seated behind her.
After the conversation they had shared—the rawness of it, the things left hanging in the air between them—she should have sought another mount.
And yet, when she approached him and he extended his hand, something inside her quietened.
The instant her fingers slipped into his, the world seemed to steady, as though a piece long out of place had finally clicked back where it belonged.
The journey north had been gruelling. Sandstorms rose without warning, walls of gold and fury that forced King Siroc and his serpents to retreat time and again.
Alina had cursed nearly the entire way, her temper fraying thinner with every delay.
Kai, of course, had teased her mercilessly, which only sharpened her irritation further.
Dawn had half expected Alina to shove him from the dragon mid-flight.
Somewhere along the endless stretch of sky and sand, Dawn must have drifted into sleep. She woke only when Kai’s hand gently shook her arm, his voice low and warm against her ear, murmuring that they were descending.
For a brief moment, she did not move.
She remained leaning against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath her cheek, reluctant to relinquish the fragile comfort she had found there.
His arm, looped loosely around her waist, tightened for the smallest of seconds as though he, too, wished to pretend they could stay suspended in that quiet in-between forever.
But the dragon dipped lower, and the spell broke.
What she saw as they landed stole the breath from her lungs.
She had imagined the north of the Desert Kingdom to mirror the rest; an endless procession of dunes, wind-scoured and merciless, broken only by the occasional lonely outcrop of rock. Instead, the landscape unfurled in startling contrast.
To their right, the sea stretched wide and restless, its waters dark and glinting beneath the sun. To their left, the desert had thinned into a rugged realm of stone and mountain, jagged peaks rising where sand once ruled.
It was as though two worlds had collided and decided to coexist.
And for the first time in days, Dawn forgot the weight in her chest and simply stared.
‘If we kept heading north, we would reach my kingdom,’ Kai said, his lips brushing so close to her ear that the warmth of his breath sent a traitorous shiver down her spine.
They guided the dragon higher, climbing towards the jagged peaks until the mountain range opened before them. Dawn stilled, staring at the sight carved into the earth.
At the summit lay a vast circular hollow, and within it an entire city. Stone dwellings spiralled inward towards a colossal arena at its heart, tier upon tier of seating rising like the ribs of some ancient beast.
‘Is that what I think it is?’ Dawn asked quietly.
Kai followed her gaze, his expression unreadable. ‘This place is famous for gambling,’ he explained. Dawn glanced back at him, brow lifting in mild surprise at his knowledge. ‘I remember my brother’s lessons,’ he added. ‘They wager on everything here. The whole city was built around that arena.’
Dawn’s mouth tightened. ‘That’s barbaric.’
Kai merely shrugged, the motion careless but not unkind. ‘Each to their own.’
She studied the arena again, imagining the roar of crowds, the clash of steel, the desperate hope of those fighting for more than glory.
‘So what is this place called,’ she asked dryly, ‘so I may ensure I never return?’
Kai laughed softly. ‘Aruna.’
The name lingered on the wind as they circled lower.
‘How far are we from the borders of your kingdom?’ Dawn asked after a moment, her tone casual though her mind was anything but.
‘Not far,’ he replied. ‘Two hours by dragon, perhaps less. Why?’
She shrugged, pretending to focus on the terrain below.
She did not wish to voice the doubt creeping through her bones. Alina’s plan to confront Saren felt like walking willingly into a storm with no shelter in sight. If things unravelled, and Dawn suspected they might, retreating back into the desert would be foolish.
North was safer.
North meant distance.
And perhaps, if it came to it, escape.
‘What exactly is Alina’s plan?’ Dawn asked, leaning slightly to one side to peer down at the city spiralling beneath them, its stone tiers coiling around the arena like a serpent around its prey.
‘Honestly?’ Kai replied. ‘I’ve no idea.’
‘That’s reassuring.’
A corner of his mouth lifted. ‘It’s Alina. No one ever truly knows what she’s planning except Alina.’
Dawn huffed softly, though her attention remained fixed on the spectacle below: banners snapping in the wind, tiny figures scattering as shadows of dragons passed overhead.
‘If it turns ugly, we leave,’ she said at last, her tone sharpening, iron threading through it. ‘I know you care for her, Kai. But if it gets out of hand…’ She braced herself for protest, for loyalty declared, for honour sworn. Instead, she felt him nod behind her.
‘We will,’ he said, voice steady, certain. Her surprise must have been obvious, because he exhaled and added, quieter, ‘Alina has changed. She’s not the princess I once knew. And her hunger for revenge…’ He paused. ‘I’ll stand by her. But only until it becomes dangerous for you.’
Something in Dawn’s chest tightened painfully at that, a warmth she did not know how to carry.
‘I can take care of myself, commander,’ she reminded him, chin lifting.
‘Oh, I know you can.’
She barely had time to react before he leaned forward, brushing a kiss against the exposed curve of her neck where the wind had swept her hair aside. The gesture was instinctive, unguarded, so natural it startled them both.
Kai blinked, as if only just realising what he had done.
Dawn went utterly still.
But instead of retreating or apologising, he simply smiled, clearly delighted by the shock on her face.
Thankfully, the dragons began their descent before she could think of something sharp to say.
They spiralled into the very heart of the arena, talons scraping against sand and stone as they landed.
The air was thick with heat and anticipation.
Dawn had never stood within an arena before.
She had only heard stories that once, long ago, witches had built such places to duel with magic, crowds gathering from distant lands to witness the spectacle.
Now those arenas lay in ruin.
The arena was a colossal monstrosity of stone and shadow, rising in endless tiers that seemed to scrape the sky itself.
So many levels circled the pit that Dawn lost count almost immediately.
Wherever she looked, balconies jutted out like watchful ledges, corridors weaving around the vast hollow like veins through rock.
The mountain had been hollowed from within, an entire city carved into its bones.
Shops and taverns clung to the outer rings, built so that every patron might drink, bargain, or conspire while watching whatever blood was spilt below.
‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ Dawn said as she climbed down from the dragon’s back, boots crunching against the sand.
‘And you probably never will,’ Kai replied lightly, though his hand found hers and pulled her closer to his side, as if the enormity of the place unsettled him more than he wished to admit.
Alina was already striding forward, cutting through the shifting crowd towards King Siroc, who had entered the arena through a pair of towering iron-bound doors, doors wide enough to herd monstrous beasts into the pit.
The king moved with deliberate slowness towards the centre, his son at his side, an entire host of desert folk fanning out behind him like a tide of sand.
‘Where is she?’ Alina demanded, wasting not a second on pleasantries.
Before anyone could answer, Dawn noticed movement at the very doors the king had used moments earlier.
An enormous group of Dunayans spilt into the arena; warrior women, their half-moon daggers glinting in the harsh light. At their head walked one unmistakable figure: a woman with a scar carving across her face, short curls framing sharp features, and an expression of thinly veiled amusement.
Alina went rigid.
In one fluid motion, she unsheathed her dagger.
The enchanted weapons remained hidden, tucked away in travelling bags strapped to one of the dragons. Mareena had been clear: do not reveal them. Not yet. Use ordinary steel until absolutely necessary.
The air shifted.
The arena, built for spectacle and violence, seemed to lean inward, waiting.
‘Look who came crawling back,’ Saren called out, her laughter ringing sharp and bright across the arena as she advanced.
‘Spaak Sandhii,’ Alina replied coldly, shifting into the desert tongue.
Saren spat at Alina’s feet, the glob dark against the sand. ‘I will not defile Sandhii by speaking it with you.’
The words struck like a blow. Dawn watched Alina’s expression fracture for a heartbeat. Not weakness, but something far more dangerous.
Saren lifted her dagger and aimed it at Alina’s chest, at the white stone pendant resting against her skin. ‘You shouldn’t be wearing that either.’
‘Hessa gave it to me.’
‘You stole it from her corpse after killing her.’
Alina moved first—a flash of steel, a step forward, ready to spill blood.
Mareena intercepted her within seconds, sliding between them with calculated calm, just as King Siroc stepped forward and placed himself squarely between both factions.
‘It has been decided,’ the king announced, his voice carrying easily across the vast stone bowl, ‘that you will both fight in the arena.’
A murmur rippled outward.
Only then did Dawn realise how many faces surrounded them. Every tier was now lined with spectators. Shadows leaned over railings; figures gathered in doorways; whispers crawled like wildfire along the balconies. She nudged Kai sharply, signalling for him to look up.