29. LION
29
LION
It was the old slave with the weathered face who brought him his armour. Although he didn’t look or say anything, his presence gave Lion comfort before the fight. And he was glad that the old man had survived. Things were nearly the same as they were before.
Almost.
It had been two months since Lion killed Marzul at the Switchblade Arena. King Kastian assigned his head physician to the responsibility of ensuring Lion's complete and speedy recovery. The wounds had healed but left scars. The torture and the beatings had long stopped. He was given a new room in the upper keep. The door was always locked and guarded by two Vogros knights.
He was fed regularly, and he was even allowed to train several times a day, under the instructions of the new Master of the Beasts. The man wasn’t even as good as Doha, Badimar’s least experienced assistant, but at least he set up some familiar drills. Lion pushed himself in each of them, utilizing his opportunity to improve his chances of surviving the Serpent’s Grip. His efforts pleased the spectators, who showed up almost every training session. Badimar had never allowed spectators at training sessions, but King Kastian wanted to convince people that this was going to be a fair fight. So, some of the nobility, as well as Domestic Assets Trade Union representatives, Switchblade Arena administration, and some of the influential public figures had a standing invitation to come and watch Lion train whenever they wished.
Nothing so far betrayed the ploy Kastian was surely planning. Everything seemed fair. Lion had defeated his first three rivals over the first three days of the tournament. He was given armour, weapons and shields of his choice, helmet, and other appropriate equipment. He wasn’t injured or drugged. They even Raged him before each fight, just to ensure he won. Kastian truly wanted him to advance to the final round.
And here he was, moments before the final, standing in the preparation room, getting ready. He listened to the eager roar of the crowd above, muffled by the walls and ceilings. More than a few times, he heard the name Lion of Zarall filling the entire arena. A sense of foreboding tugged at the back of his head.
Make sure he’ll be begging to die… The Queen’s words rang in his head. Nothing they had done so far convinced him to do that.
Yet.
He had met his grand final rival the night before The Serpent’s Grip started. Kastian had held a feast, as was the custom before a grand tournament. Lion was made to attend and watch as Kastian introduced his new champion: a purebred beast he named Laswen.
Lion and Laswen both stood on pedestals, facing each other across the room as the guests ate and mingled and were entertained. Laswen was a giant of a man, bigger and wider than Lion. His broad shoulders seemed to fill the room, and his thick arms hung with a quiet strength. He wore a bear’s pelt on his back and a heavy armour that made Lion’s look like a tin box. Based on the way they spent more time around him than Lion, the guests had seemed impressed by Laswen. Even Lion was apprehensive. And curious to see how he fought.
He hadn’t watched Laswen’s first three fights the previous days but heard the crowd’s reaction as he sat in the preparation room. The fights didn’t last long, which left the spectators craving for more. It told Lion that Laswen predominantly fought in Slayer’s Pit or Red Gauntlet fights, which were very different from tournaments. Those fights between a Raged purebred beast against many freeborn beasts or civilians were designed for blood. They were less of a fight and more of a massacre; very different from what the spectators expected in a tournament. But Laswen's display of violence must have been so remarkable that it left the crowd cheering and clapping for a long time. They couldn’t get enough.
And now the crowd was about to see Laswen fight Lion of Zarall.
Lion could see how this fight would end Kastian’s troubles. He had impressed the crowd with his champion, evoked their thirst for blood, made them a fan of Laswen’s bloody work. And now when Laswen killed Lion, they were going to be satisfied. Not angry, not even sad. No reason to continue the riots.
If Laswen killed Lion.
Lion wondered what would happen if he won instead. Would the mob take it as a sign Kastian didn’t deserve to sit on the throne?
The old slave with the weathered face stepped back when he was done.
“This way,” grunted the guard, who had been waiting by the door.
Lion wanted to say something to the old slave, something to acknowledge him. Or maybe he just wanted to say goodbye to someone, but he couldn’t think of how to word it. So, he just stood and followed the guard without a glance back.
Sir Gwodd, the captain of the royal knights, was guarding the door leading into the launch room underneath the arena. His presence only meant one thing; Kastian was inside. Lion’s stomach twisted. He wasn’t expecting this to be a fair fight, not really. Kastian was here to ensure Laswen’s victory.
Make sure he’ll be begging to die…
Lion didn’t need any intervention to lose this fight. He was at peace with his death. He had no intention of becoming the source of all the King’s problems. He just had to convince Kastian of that. He had to…
The knight opened the door for him and Lion’s heart skipped a beat.
No. Not this. Please.
Saradra stood in the middle of the room. Lion felt a stab at his heart when he saw her belly bulging under her dress. He stared at it for a long moment. His throat tightened, a lump forming as he struggled to keep his face blank. Saradra kept her head down, her hands together, her face neutral like a well-trained slave, but Lion could see that she was trembling.
Kastian leaned against the back wall of the room. A grin split his face as he took in Lion’s reaction.
After closing the door behind him, Sir Gwodd took his stance next to the King.
Lion’s mouth formed a grim line. Dispelling all traces of emotion from his face, he lowered his head down. He brought his hands together, but that didn’t stop their shaking.
Why was she here? Why?
You know why, a small voice at the back of his head answered.
He swallowed.
Make sure he’ll be begging to die…
“I already know you two have feelings for each other, so you can stop pretending like you don’t know one another,” Kastian spoke after watching them for several minutes. “Though I can’t understand how a purebred slave can feel anything in the first place.”
Lion didn’t raise his head. If Saradra — and that little heartbeat growing inside her belly — had any chance at all to survive this, it depended on hiding how much Lion felt for her. Saradra must have been thinking the same thing, as she didn’t raise her head either.
“I am giving you both permission to speak to each other, or hug, or do whatever you want for the next five minutes.”
When the two slaves still didn’t make any move, Kastian took a deep breath. He didn’t smile, didn’t even give any indication that he enjoyed this. “I already decided to kill you both. Pretending like you don’t know each other won’t change my mind. I wouldn’t waste your last five minutes together if I were you.”
Lion looked directly into Kastian’s poison green eyes, and for the first time since his childhood, he begged: “Owner, please. Please, don’t do this.”
Kastian’s face turned harder, but he didn’t reply.
Hearing Lion’s voice set something off in Saradra and she started shaking more violently. Lion couldn’t bear seeing her like this, so he pulled her to himself and hugged her tightly. Her resolve crumbled as she sobbed in his arms.
“My older brother had a slave,” Kastian started telling. “A purebred. Dinky, he used to call him. He was a beast, like you. A birthday present for Eltian’s seventh birthday.”
Saradra buried her face in the crook of Lion’s shoulder. He caressed her hair. Their display of affection satisfied and disgusted Kastian at the same time. Sir Gwodd’s blank expression didn’t change. He watched Lion with vigilant eyes.
“Eltian was a little bit… how should I put this?” Kastian tapped a finger on his lower lip. “ Disturbed should do fine. He was a disturbed child. He started hitting and kicking Dinky. He grew more violent as he grew up. He would torture him with his Pain Word. He would mutilate him. Raped him when he was old enough.”
Lion kneeled, pulling Saradra with him. “Please, Owner,” he begged on his knees. The lump in his throat reduced his voice to a whisper. “Spare her, please. Please…”
All his life, he had been taught begging would not change anything for a slave, if their Owner had set their mind on something. Begging was dangerously close to requesting. Nearly an Act of Defiance. Disrespectful at the least.
Yet, the words kept pouring out of his mouth. “Please, don’t do this…”
“Eltian, may his rhoa rest in peace,” Kastian tapped four fingers on his forehead at that, “did things to Dinky that you cannot even begin to imagine. Even our parents were disturbed by the things my brother was doing.”
Helplessness was a powerful thing. Something shifted inside him. Desperation took over his thoughts. Begging was not going to work.
Sir Gwodd noticed the subtle change in the way Lion held himself. The knight took half a step forward. He neither made any move to reach for his sword, nor displayed any other intimidation. He simply pressed his lips together, ready to speak Lion’s First Word if he so much as looked at the King the wrong way.
“But the slave did not break,” Kastian continued, ignoring the tension in the air. “He never did. He would still walk when he could, and behaved and served like a perfect slave. A purebred.”
“I’ll lose the fight,” Lion spoke like he was being strangled. “Please. I’ll do whatever you ask—”
Kastian raised his voice to cut him off. “Everyone appreciates a well-trained purebred for being the perfect tools. A valuable property. However, I used to admire them for what they are.” He smiled, but his green eyes lacked the joy of it. “I think a purebred is not a mere well-trained human. I think it is a different species; something more evolved than humans. They are easy to control, because they possess an inhuman amount of control over themselves. It’s really surprising not everybody sees how remarkable they are.”
Saradra’s hand found Lion’s and squeezed it. She sobbed and her tears fell on his armour. He pressed her against his chest, as if wanting to tuck her safely into his heart.
Kastian’s smile faded. “If anyone had told me that a purebred could cause so much trouble for a king, I would have found it very amusing.”
“I will obey,” Lion whispered, his throat bobbing. “I’ll do whatever you wish. I… I live to serve; I breathe to please. Please, Owner…”
“When I sent you into the arena with Marzul, I didn’t think it was necessary to order you to die. I guess I underestimated what a purebred can do. And now I’m in a position where I can’t trust your obedience.”
Lion took Saradra’s face between his hands and kissed her. He covered her face with kisses, every one of them hungrier than the last. His hand slid down to her belly, and he understood why she was so obsessed with her unborn child, even before it was conceived. He felt protective of the life growing inside. He wanted to hold it, guard it, care for it.
“Take her hostage,” Lion said, his voice strained. “I’ll die. I promise I’ll die if you just spare her.”
“No,” Saradra whimpered as she held onto him tighter.
Kastian pursed his lips. “I could do that. I could promise you that I would spare her. But then you know why that would be a lie.” Lion followed Kastian’s gaze to Saradra’s belly. The King didn’t have to explain it further. He couldn’t let Saradra live and give birth to the Lion of Zarall’s child. He glanced at Sir Gwodd again, calculating the distance between them. There was no way he could get to the knight before he spoke his First Word.
“Please don’t kill her,” he whispered helplessly. He closed his eyes, his head down, his arms tight around Saradra.
“Oh, I won’t kill her,” Kastian said casually.
Lion’s eyes snapped open. Colour drained from his face as the weight of the words sank in. He felt a crushing pain in his chest, as if the air had been sucked from his lungs. “No,” he gasped. Tears ran down his cheeks. “No. Not this. Not this. Please.”
“Your five minutes is up.”
“Don’t do this. Please.” The room seemed to close in around him, the walls pressing in as a wave of nausea rolled over him.
Saradra wrapped her arms around Lion’s neck. Tears still trailed down her cheeks, but that strong, fierce fighter returned to her voice. “Look at me,” she ordered. “When you go out there, do whatever it takes to win. Do you hear me? Whatever it takes.”
The blue of her eyes crushed Lion’s heart. His mind raced in a chaotic storm of fear and helplessness, unable to accept what was about to happen. His heart pounded, every beat inflicting an ache.
“I love you,” she whispered. She straightened her back and faced Sir Gwodd with those fiery eyes, brave and strong, promising a fight.
She didn’t understand what Kastian meant! She thought the knight was going to do the King’s bidding.
She was facing the wrong direction.
“Please run,” Lion whispered. “Please run, please.”
Utter confusion crossed Saradra’s face. She still didn’t understand. Lion sobbed, his lips trembling, choking on the lump in his throat. He opened his mouth to tell her he loved her back, but Kastian spoke before he could make another sound.
“ Dracistuecto .”
A blackness pressed down, blurring his sight. Lion tried to shove Saradra away, but she clung to him.
“Run!” Lion pushed through clenched teeth. “Please run.”
“No,” Saradra refused. “You can fight it!”
He fought it. Twelve knew he fought it with everything he had. He focused on the colour of her eyes. A pressure started building inside his head. The blinding rage accumulated in his tense muscles.
“Fight it!” she yelled. “Fight it! Please!”
The purebred planted his fingers on the sandy ground, forcing himself to stay put. The Rage seeped into his mind, obscuring everything. Taking over his thoughts, his heart, his body. His breathing turned into a growl. A loud humming filled his ears, muffling all sound. Muffling her voice. Her words, her pleads. The pressure at the back of his head grew until it exploded in Rage.