Chapter 7
Raiden
Contained beneath the Smog, the tournament grounds already smell of blood, mud, and shit. It’s a wonder we don’t all drop dead where we stand from the smothering toxicity of it all. What I wouldn’t give for one breath of clean, fresh air. Though that comes with its own price, as well.
The people gathered here are a sea of brown, tattered clothes hanging from bone-thin, walking ghosts. They are shells. Their sunken, wide eyes carry little life within them.
“Do you think she has what it takes?” Baltas asks as I hand him a pair of black leather gloves.
The girl definitely overheard our scuffle with that fool, Dolan, last evening. I could tell she was debating whether to stab me herself or expose me to the entire banquet hall.
Wisely, she chose neither. Perhaps she will keep her mouth shut, but I’ve come to learn that having loose ends is messy. Either she’ll take Dolan out for me, or she’ll die trying. I push the thought out of my head before it can take root. She will not die. She can’t.
It is a mere coincidence that she stumbled so perfectly into my path, but I’m not one to squander opportunity.
From what I’ve witnessed, she’s a loyal friend to the barmaid, and I doubt she’d let anything unsavory befall her.
There’s also a fire in her that burns solely to prove to herself and others that she is more capable than they believe.
“She definitely does.” I look across the crowd to where Arina has been casting hateful glares in my direction all morning. When I catch her eye, she holds my gaze. Brave little thing.
“And do you think she’ll be a problem?” Baltas asks, readying the horse the crown herself has provided for the jousting portion of the tourney. There are no signs of other living animals anywhere in the land. Only those whose purpose is to serve at the pleasure of Her Majesty.
Queen Daphne is the only person in all of Lukasia to own any livestock at all. It’s fitting as all hells that she’s willing to contribute more innocents to the potential death toll of her pointless games.
It’s a wonder the people haven’t questioned or revolted. Not that they have the energy or resources. She keeps them so sick. But then, it’s hard to see past the end of your nose when your entire life is work, sleep, survive.
“I think we’re going to add a healer to our numbers very soon, old friend,” I tell him with a grin as he mounts the horse.
Baltas laughs. “You might be the fool! That one would rather hang than join the likes of us.” He nods in her direction.
“I never said she’d be joining willingly. Sometimes, one must force the right path to bend in the direction of their will.”
The games have only just begun.
Arina
MY CONFIDENCE WANES the closer we get to the opening ceremonies of the tournament. The buzzing of the crowd meshes from many individual sounds into one constant roaring in my ears.
I am the only female competing in the tournament, and the guard has never been known to welcome female soldiers amongst their ranks.
That alone will put a huge target on my back.
The men competing will see me and think I am weak.
I try to tell myself that underestimating me will be their first mistake, but inside, I am working to keep myself from shaking due to the adrenaline.
Behind me, a horse snorts a breath. I turn to watch a puff of white smoke escape from its dark nostrils. I’m quickly reminded that I’ve never so much as touched a fucking horse. I’ve seen them on occasion, pulling a royal carriage or some member of nobility.
That is the extent of my experience with the beasts. What made me think I might be capable of jousting? They are huge, solid creatures, and I don’t know the first thing about making one move.
That, along with the added pressure of knowing the Rhiza are lurking out there, watching, waiting for me to murder a fellow contestant, has me strongly considering taking myself out of the games entirely.
But I have no choice. This tournament is my key to discovering how to save Lukasia and ending our suffering. And now the Rhiza are threatening Phillipa’s life if I don’t take out their little problem.
My stomach turns at the thought of committing murder. He might deserve death for being a traitorous rebel, but that doesn’t mean I’m thrilled to be the one to do it. I’m a healer, for fuck’s sake.
“You have got to stop that,” Phil tells me, waving a handkerchief in my face.
I grab it from her, stilling her arm. “What?”
She purses her lips. “The staring. You haven’t stopped staring at that mystery man from last night since he walked into your line of sight.”
“I’m not staring.” Pulling my eyes from where he stands across the crowd is a challenge. I don’t want to lose track of him for even a second, but I manage to look at Phillipa.
“All I’m saying is, if you’re distracted, you’re not going to do well in your events today. Put your game face on!”
She’s right. I need to focus. There is too much at stake to let any distractions in.
Getting into the Queen’s Guard is more important to me than ever now.
The closer I can get to Queen Daphne, the better my chances are of stopping any assassination attempts. I will earn the other soldiers’ respect after I prove myself in these events. As long as they don’t catch me murdering a fellow contestant.
Gods, this is so much more complicated than it had been just a few nights ago.
“I mean, not that I can blame you.” She pulls at the front of her dress. “He is rather nice to look at.”
“That’s not why I’m … Never mind.” It’s useless to argue, and I don’t want to pull her any further into this mess.
Phil gasps and I jump in response, clenching my teeth when I realize there is no imminent danger.
“What?” I demand of her.
She grabs my arm, pulling a little harder than necessary to bring my ear to her. “Do you think he’s the lost prince?”
My eyes search the heavens as I compose myself. Trying not to sound too irritated, I say, “The chances of that are lower than me getting into the guard. Or finding a wild animal roaming in the woods. Or … ”
“Okay, I get it. Way to crush a girl’s dreams.” Phil pouts, and I almost feel guilty for spoiling her fun.
“What’s your first event?” she asks as I start to read through the schedule posted outside the canvas tent.
My shoulders drop.
Damn. Blade throwing is first.
A knot tightens in the back of my throat, and I work to swallow it down. I’m decent enough, but it’s not my strongest skill. It usually takes me a while to warm up.
I point to the event, and Phil frowns.
“Well, at least you’ll get it out of the way.
I’m going to find a good seat. Go kick some ass, Rina!
” She hugs me, and I soak it in. She’s the only person I allow this close.
Without her, my life would lose its vibrance and warmth.
I would never have survived this long if I hadn’t had her encouragement and love.
I squeeze her a little tighter before letting go.
And then I watch her weave through the crowd, smiling and waving and making small talk here and there as she goes.
When she’s out of sight, I head for where they’ve set up practice targets in the field and return to scanning my surroundings for any sign of danger.
It’s not long before my eyes land on the red-faced man from the banquet. I don’t know his name, and I’d almost rather keep it that way.
He’s a few targets down, standing with a dastardly looking group of fae. They all wear dark cloaks, and their skin is an ashen sort of gray. Monsters. Murderers, and nobody even knows they’re walking among us.
Or maybe they look that way to me because I know they must be members of The Rhiza if they’re associating with him. I make a mental note of each of their faces.
I have to find a way to get rid of him, and it has to look like an accident if I want to make it through this tournament with my head firmly connected to my shoulders.
When a target is free, I step up to the small table with practice knives laid upon it. I pull three from the basket, and familiarize myself with their weight. Stepping up to the throwing line, I take one deep breath and aim for the target.
I throw my first blade and miss by half an arm’s length.
Soft chuckles sound from behind me, but I don’t look to see who it is. Let them think I’m weak and unskilled. That will be their mistake. I just need a little practice, is all.
“Are you ready?” Eryk steps into my peripheral.
I throw another blade, this time hitting the outer edge of the target.
“I will be.”
Raiden
IRRITATION CRAWLS THROUGH my muscles, tightening them until I’m certain they’ll snap. Baltas’ horse pins his ears back, sensing the shift in my mood.
Captain Loverboy is showing her how to throw her blades. She was doing fine on her own, and his technique is lacking.
“Grip those reins any tighter and they may disintegrate.” Baltas laughs down at me.
The muscles in my jaw pulse when the captain’s hand touches hers to adjust her already flawless stance.
She looks up at him and smiles, and my blood boils in response.
“I don’t like how close she is with the captain.” I’m not sure why I say it out loud. I tell myself it’s because she might think she can win his favor by turning us over to him. She’d only be securing his death sentence.
Baltas attempts to hide his amusement. “Worried she prefers him over the likes of you?”
I’m about to scold him, tell him I’m more worried I’ve just created double the work for us, because what if the girl tells the captain before we get a chance to get fully situated?
But the herald calls for the opening ceremonies to begin, a tradition that I wish had been left behind with the coming of the Smog. Nobody cares who you are or where you come from anymore. All that matters is skill and survival.