Chapter 41
Elyse
It took the stadium around two hours to fill, but eventually, it did.
Elyse realized, with a nauseating trepidation, that she had no prior understanding of what exactly ten thousand people looked like.
Men and women stood shoulder to shoulder in nearly every square foot of the stands.
And that was only the attendees. The competitors, the monarchs and their servants, the members of each kingdom’s guard—they all made up another thousand or so individuals.
It was enough to make Elyse sweat—even more so than she already was in the blistering summer sun.
The Sammerhan Games had started at midday.
They’d kicked off with a parade showcasing all the competitors, during which Killian had done a lot of grunting and scoffing.
At that point, most of the attendees were properly drunk.
They had cheered—and vomited, with near equal fervor—as their kingdom’s representatives were announced.
Then came the opening festivities, a celebration of the art of combat and the unique cultures across the continent.
Elyse’s favorite had been the soldier who performed a choreographed routine with a longsword that was equal parts dance and deadly maneuvering.
As he swiped and swayed across the floor, she’d been distracted enough to forget the dread curdling in her stomach.
The rest of the performances—a juggler, a slapstick trio of buffoons, and a woman in leatherettes who hurled throwing knives at volunteers—weren’t enough to placate her anxiety.
She and Killian sat together about halfway up the stands, surrounded by civilians.
It unnerved her to be among the very people she was trying to keep safe.
Even the ones who cheered in her ear and spilled mead on her boots deserved to make it home in one piece.
Meanwhile, Manny and Sera were stationed with the monarchs.
They were all gathered together in a covered pagoda, enjoying a front-row view of the spectacle.
The king of Otsuk and the queen of Evaria had each brought their spouses, but Maelor had attended the event alone.
Elyse wasn’t sure if there was no one he wanted accompanying him, or if he’d elected not to invite anyone in order to keep them out of danger.
Shame squeezed at her chest. Maelor may have chosen to put aside his grudge against her for murdering his father, but her guilt hadn’t lessened.
Today though, she would take the final step toward that peace.
She turned her attention to the arena floor. Roughly thirty men were battling one another in a free-for-all event deemed the melee. Each had a helm, a sword, and a shield, but none of them had much grace as they swung their weapons with force over precision.
Killian shook his head as one of the soldiers knocked himself in the helm with his own shield. “They could have paid me a thousand gold pieces to participate in the melee, and I still would have declined.”
“Oh, the ever-humble Lieutenant Southwick,” Elyse jabbed. She frowned as she watched another soldier trip over a sword on the ground. “But really, why are they so bad?”
“New recruits,” Killian sighed. “Each of them has been in the service for only a few months, and they still have no idea what they’re doing.” He shrugged. “The event’s a fan favorite though, and where most of the betting happens.”
Elyse looked over her shoulder at the surrounding patrons.
They screamed instructions to the fighters, ranging from, “Hit him in the head!” to “Stop falling on your ass!” Fortunately, most of the crowd seemed more sober than they’d been at the start of the festivities.
The arena stopped selling alcohol once the actual Games began, which gave Elyse hope that the civilians would be sober by the time Lazarus attacked.
If he attacked. She was starting to have doubts.
She turned her attention back to the melee below and leaned closer to Killian. “Is no one worried about the soldiers hurting one another—or themselves?”
Killian grunted and pointed to the nearest competitor. “Blunted swords,” he explained. “The worst they’ll end up with is bruises.”
Ten minutes later, a winner was declared, and the tournament personnel began scrambling to set up for the archery contest. Elyse, no longer entertained, scrutinized the arena once again.
She raised a hand to shade her eyes as her gaze raked over everything: the arena floor, through the stands, all the way up to the pennants waving in the breeze.
There were no signs of anything amiss, but she didn’t let herself relax.
She spotted Manny climbing up the stairs toward them. He looked sharp in his Royal Guard leathers, even with the sweat beading along his blond locks. He gave them a shaky smile as his eyes darted about. “All good back here?”
Killian nodded. “You?”
Manny threw a glance over his shoulder, back to where Sera had stayed with Maelor and the others. “Sera’s getting along well enough with the fat cats,” he said, a bit of amusement in his voice. “Though, if King Halren touches her arm one more time, I’m liable to start a war.”
“Oh, poor you, sitting in the shade with the food and the wine and your beautiful wife,” Elyse said with a faux pout.
“Ignore her,” Killian deflected immediately. “She’s just antsy.”
“She has a point, though,” Manny ceded. “I came up here to tell you to grab something to eat and drink.”
“No thanks,” Killian said, turning his attention to the arena floor.
Manny let out a little scoff. “Need I remind you that I outrank you in this little arrangement?” he asked, wagging his finger back and forth between them.
Killian glared at Manny, but after a beat, he rose from his seat and moved into the aisle. “I’ll be back in three minutes with food,” he told Elyse before he set off down the stairs.
Manny plopped into the open space beside Elyse. “You’re welcome to go, too, you know,” he offered.
“I’d rather be hungry,” she responded without looking at him.
It wasn’t only Maelor she was avoiding. She had no interest in meeting the other kings and queens and pretending to be interested in their lives.
Plus, she preferred her vantage point from higher up in the stands.
She couldn’t help feeling like the second she let her guard down, Lazarus would pounce.
Manny shrugged. “Very well.”
They sat in silence as Elyse watched the archery contest, but it didn’t hold her attention for long. She respected archers and their talent, but it lacked the captivating allure of fighting hand to hand. She preferred to see the anger in her enemy’s eyes, and smell the fear in their sweat.
“You know,” Manny began awkwardly, “we haven’t really spoken much the past few days.”
“You were planning a secret wedding,” Elyse answered.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Manny smile. “Yes, I was. But I wanted to talk to you about something else.”
“I’m listening,” she replied, keeping her voice neutral. Internally, she was afraid of whatever it was he was going to say. Her mouth felt dry as she recalled her conversation with Sera from the night before.
“Those two over there…” he said, gesturing to where Killian and Sera stood in the pagoda. “They don’t know the first thing about shitty fathers. I love Sera, but she was absolutely spoiled by Kal. And Killian’s father, he was very supportive of him. Of both of us, really.”
There was sadness in his tone at the mention of Captain Southwick, and Elyse dropped her gaze to her lap. “I would have liked to meet him,” she said sincerely.
“Oh, he would have loved you.” Manny let out a laugh tinged with nostalgia for a time that had never happened. “And he would have demanded to train with you. Probably would have put me and Killian to shame.”
“That’s not so hard,” Elyse teased, earning an elbow in the ribs from Manny.
“My point is,” he continued, “Killian and Sera have been there for you as much as they can, but they’ll never understand what you’re going through. And I’ll never know what it’s like to have a demon daddy, but I do know how it feels to hate your own father.”
He’d lowered his voice, but his candor still prevailed.
She could hear the longing and confusion in his tone as he spoke of a father he’d never known, a man who had used his mother for physical pleasure then abandoned her and their child.
“And I know, perhaps better than most,” he went on, “that just because someone sired you, it does not make them your father. You get to decide who you are, regardless of whose blood is in your veins.”
“Thank you,” Elyse uttered. It was all she could manage to say. Killian and Sera had told her that a million times over the last few days, but Manny was right; it resonated differently coming from someone who had a better understanding.
She squeezed his hand and said nothing more. Guilt over her secret bargain with Sera had stolen her voice.
Killian saved her from speaking by returning with a small assortment of cheeses and breads along with water for her. He had a bit more zip in his step, the brief encounter with shade having done him some good. He didn’t even glare at Manny as the two men swapped places.
Manny nodded in farewell and returned to his place in the pagoda.
Elyse tried not to dwell on the shame curdling in her stomach at Manny’s kindness.
She didn’t deserve his encouragement, not after the promise she’d made to Sera.
Instead, she nibbled absentmindedly at the cheese Killian had brought her.
Soon, the archery contest concluded, and the tournament of swords began. Halfway into the first fight, Killian went rigid enough to set off Elyse’s hackles. She abandoned her cheese to peer around, desperate to spot whatever had set Killian on edge.