Chapter Fifty-Two #2
‘We did not come here to put on a show,’ Kai said, stepping forward. Even so, his arm remained firm around Dawn’s waist, holding her close as if he feared the crowd itself might turn feral.
Alina ignored him entirely. She gave a single, sharp nod. ‘When?’
‘Alina.’ Kai’s jaw tightened. ‘They want spectacle. They want blood.’
‘Then let them,’ she answered, her brown eyes never leaving Saren.
Saren stood smiling, dagger loose in her grip, her Dunayans fanned behind her like a crescent blade.
Many among them hurled venomous words at the two Dunayans who had chosen to follow Alina.
Isla and Arena endured it in silence, their faces carved from stone.
They stood close to the king’s son, closer than necessary.
Dawn’s attention lingered on them.
Perhaps the king had assigned them to guard his heir. Yet that seemed unlikely; they had fled with Alina. Their loyalty was not simple.
Still, they remained at the prince’s side.
Watching and waiting.
‘I shall make a spectacle of your death,’ Saren declared, her voice carrying across the vast stone bowl of the arena. ‘And everyone here shall see that you are the culprit of everything.’
‘And when I kill you,’ Alina replied, lifting her dagger so the blade caught the harsh desert light, ‘they will finally see the truth.’
The air seemed to tighten, as if the arena itself were drawing breath. The crowd swelled into noise—cheers, jeers, shrieks of anticipation. Some craned their necks in awe at the dragons circling below; others spat curses, eager to watch the so-called traitor drakonian princess fall.
‘It is settled then,’ the king pronounced, his voice final as a gavel striking stone. ‘You will fight to the death. The winner will be redeemed.’
Kai stepped forward at once, Dawn beside him, both shaking their heads in disbelief. But Alina stood with her back to them, shoulders squared, deaf to their protests.
Mareena’s crimson glare drifted towards them with a warning. Be silent. Let this unfold.
Dawn did not like the glint in those red eyes. It was not fear she saw there. It was calculation.
Saren dipped into an exaggerated bow, mockery etched into every line of her body. Then she turned sharply and strode back the way she had come, her Dunayans following in a disciplined sweep of sand-coloured robes.
Alina watched them go.
For a fleeting moment, Dawn saw something raw pass over Alina’s face. Grief, perhaps even longing. Her free hand rose to the white pendant at her throat, fingers curling around it as if drawing strength.
Then it vanished.
Her expression hardened into iron.
She turned to her dragons and released a single sharp whistle. The beasts responded instantly, great wings unfurling with thunderous force as they leapt skyward. Gasps rippled through the arena as shadows swept across the tiers and the dragons soared into the open sky, vanishing into the blue.
Alina gave the king one last unreadable look.
Then she walked away.
Dawn had no idea where she was headed and suspected Alina did not either. But Mareena followed without hesitation, robes whispering over the sand.
With a frustrated exhale, Kai went after them.
And, very reluctantly, Dawn followed too.
‘She’s going to get herself killed,’ Dawn muttered as they hurried out of the arena and through a smaller door than the one the king had used.
Servants materialised as if conjured from the stone itself, bowing low and gesturing for them to follow.
Alina moved after them in silence, her shoulders drawn tight with iron resolve.
Dawn felt torn in two with a fierce urge to seize Alina by the shoulders and shake sense into her, and an equally fierce need to wrap her in her arms and hold her there.
‘Not if I can help it,’ Kai said evenly beside her. ‘She’s been training. She stands a chance.’
Dawn bit the inside of her cheek. She wanted to believe him. She truly did. But the image of Saren—the coiled muscle beneath scarred skin, the predator’s ease in her stance—would not leave her mind.
Over her shoulder, Dawn caught sight of Isla and Arena lingering behind, engaged in a heated exchange with the king’s son. His expression was thunderous, jaw clenched as he spoke sharply. The two Dunayans bowed their heads at last, chastened.
Dawn frowned at the strange interaction, curiosity stirring. Something about it felt… off.
Before she could dwell on it, Kai’s hand tightened around hers and he tugged her further down the narrow stone corridor. The scent of dust and old rock swallowed her thoughts. And, for the moment, she let them go.
The corridors on the same level as the arena were little more than veins of shadow—narrow, dimly lit passageways where the stone pressed close on either side. But as they climbed higher, the space widened, breathing open into something far grander and far more suffocating.
Dawn slowed despite herself, staring in reluctant fascination at the sheer press of desert folk crammed into the upper levels.
Bodies brushed past in constant motion, voices rose and tangled in the air, and the scent of food struck her like a physical force.
Every few steps another tavern flung open its doors, each one offering some strange and glistening dish—skewered meats dripping with oil, flatbreads steaming beneath spiced sauces, candied fruits shining like jewels under torchlight.
Between the taverns, betting houses stood shoulder to shoulder, their entrances crowded with eager patrons pressing coin into waiting hands. Men and women hurried in and out, voices sharp with excitement, wagering fortunes on the blood that would soon stain the arena floor.
Dawn quickly realised that the north was nothing like the wandering desert she had crossed before.
The clothing here reflected permanence. No long, sand-bound robes or tightly wrapped travelling gear.
Instead, fabrics were loose and flowing, shorter and broader, made for heat trapped within stone rather than wind sweeping over dunes.
Here, the desert folk did not traverse endless sands on serpents or scorpions.
They gambled.
Many bore the look of fighters with thick forearms, broken noses, scarred knuckles. Dawn noticed a hunched old woman crouched beside a cage of trembling animals, her voice shrill as she advertised them for purchase. For training. For slaughter.
Dawn turned away sharply, bile rising in her throat.
This city did not merely host violence. It fed on it.
‘I don’t think I like this place,’ Dawn muttered as they climbed yet another flight of steps, the noise of the arena rising and falling beneath them like some restless beast.
At the next level, a servant led them down a long corridor lined with heavy wooden doors. The air here was quieter and thicker.
‘These chambers are reserved for the fighters,’ the servant explained, bowing before retreating.
Dawn understood immediately. They were not to be housed alongside the king. To give Alina rooms fit for royalty would be a provocation, a blade twisted in old wounds. The desert folk would not take kindly to Hessa’s supposed killer sleeping in comfort.
Kai pushed open one of the narrow doors and stepped inside. The room was small—stone walls, a washbasin, no window—and in the centre, a modest double bed.
‘I could get used to this,’ he said lightly.
Dawn folded her arms. ‘We are not sharing that.’
Before she could protest further, Alina and Mareena had already disappeared into the adjoining chamber. The door shut with quiet finality.
Kai chuckled and placed a hand at the small of Dawn’s back, guiding—no, pushing—her inside.
‘I’ll sleep on the floor. Don’t panic,’ he said, amusement dancing in his eyes.
‘We can’t share a room.’
‘And why not?’ His smile widened, infuriatingly at ease.
Dawn felt herself fidget beneath that stare. ‘Because—’
‘Because?’ He arched a brow, mock innocence painted across his face.
‘You snore.’
Kai choked on a breath. ‘I do not snore.’
‘You do. I didn’t want to tell you, but—’ Her words faltered because Kai had stepped closer.
The chamber was already small; now it felt suffocating. The faint scent of dragon smoke and sun-warmed leather clung to him. His knuckles rose, brushing softly against her cheek. Not teasing this time, not playful.
Reverent.
The touch was so gentle it stole the breath from her lungs.
For a fleeting moment, the noise of the arena, the looming fight, the weight of everything ahead, dissolved. There was only the warmth of his skin against hers.
And the terrifying possibility of what that meant.
‘Make the glamour go,’ he whispered, and this time there was no teasing in his tone. Only quiet insistence.
‘I can’t.’ Dawn glanced towards the door, nerves tightening beneath her ribs. ‘What if someone sees me?’
‘The door is closed.’
‘But not locked.’
Without breaking eye contact, Kai stepped back and slid the bolt into place. The sound echoed far too loudly in the small chamber.
‘There,’ he said softly. ‘Safe.’
‘You’re insufferable.’
‘And you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.’
‘Let’s not start this again, Kai.’
‘Oh, so it’s Kai now?’ His dark eyes glimmered. ‘Not commander?’
Dawn rolled her eyes, though her pulse had begun to betray her. ‘Tell me why you want the glamour gone. I’ll only have to put it back on the moment we leave this room.’
His mouth curved faintly. ‘We could stay in here forever.’
Her breath caught, traitorous thing that it was. For a heartbeat, the world outside and the upcoming fight, seemed impossibly far away. But she would not let Kai Blackburn have that effect on her. So instead she stepped closer and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the underside of his chin.
‘And what would you suggest we do in here, commander?’
The satisfaction that bloomed within her at the sight of him freezing, his shoulders stiffening, his eyes widening and his breath faltering, was delicious.
Dawn lifted her hands.
Green smoke coiled between her fingers like living ivy. It curled up her arms, dissolved the borrowed flesh, stripped away the lie.
The wyverian form vanished.