Chapter Twelve
A sense of dread spread throughout my body.
They did their events naked.
Zain made his way over to me and I did my absolute best to keep my eyes on his face and not any of the other tantalizing things he had on display.
“I want you to know that I am highly offended that you fell asleep last night during my story. I am an extremely entertaining storyteller.” He was teasing me but my mind was still trying to work out the fact that he stood in front of me as naked as the day he’d been born.
“Be less boring,” I absentmindedly offered.
Zain laughed.
Was my mouth literally watering? I was thirsty. It was a hot day. That had to explain it.
It had nothing to do with his chest.
“I would have woken you up earlier but you said you were tired and needed to sleep.” How could he be talking about sleep while he stood there without any clothing on?
“Why are the other competitors naked?” I asked. It should have been the first thing out of my mouth as soon as he came over.
Confusion marred his brow. “In the tournament, like the Pythian Games, the competitors are always naked.”
Not only were they nude but they had lathered their bodies in oil. A fact I’d just now picked up on because I was trying so hard to only look at Zain’s face.
A task I was not succeeding at.
I’d told myself that I wasn’t willing to lose control for some charm and a handsome face, but I might be willing to do it for charm, a handsome face, and that body.
He had just permanently ruined me for any other man by the unholy magnificence of his form.
It was so surreal to be having these thoughts and this conversation while only one of us was dressed.
“The games have always been done this way—the ancients thought it made them faster to run without clothes, and they were only interested in the glory of the competition, nothing else.”
I started thinking about all the other events—would I have to do those naked as well? “You could have mentioned that I’d have to be undressed to compete.”
“When I left this morning, I realized that I hadn’t said anything to you last night, so I left you a note . . .” His voice trailed off when he realized what he’d said. “I’m sorry.”
That was what the marked-up paper had been. “It’s not your fault I can’t read. It’s mine.” And my mother’s and grandmother’s, as they thought reading was a waste of time for a warrior, an attitude I seemed to have adopted. “It wouldn’t have changed anything. I’d still be here, ready to race.”
The crowd had started chanting something. It took me a few moments to figure out what they were saying.
They were yelling, “Take it off!”
Like I was some kind of entertainment, only there for their amusement.
I kicked off my sandals. Then I reached for my belt and began to untie it. Zain’s hands covered mine, stopping me. All I could think about was the way warmth seemed to rush from his hands and into mine, filling me with light and heat.
“I would just like to know if I have this right. You won’t let me watch you change but you’ll let a stadium full of men watch while you disrobe?” He was attempting to joke with me to give me a chance to change my mind. Letting me know that I didn’t have to do this.
But he didn’t understand that I didn’t feel pressured or obligated. “They mean to shame and embarrass me and I will not allow them to do either.”
Nor would I sneak off somewhere else to change. I would do it here, in defiance of them.
He took his hands from mine and stared at me.
“What?” I finally asked.
“I admire you so much, illora.”
His admiration would have to wait. I quickly took off my belt and tunic, and then unwrapped my breast band and undergarment. The crowd went wild, as if I were putting on a show for them.
“Now you know why women aren’t allowed to watch the tournament,” he said.
“So their delicate sensitivities won’t be offended? It’s just bodies. Everybody has one.”
“Yes, but some are much better than others.” His gaze was on me, and when I turned to look at him, his eyes snapped back up to my face. “Nudity is the great equalizer. No one can tell if you’re poor or wealthy.”
“Put your clothes back on!” one of the competitors yelled at me. “No one wants to see that! You should be ashamed!”
“I’m not,” I told Zain.
“Nor should you be.”
It was different this time when he looked at me, and I found myself responding to the blatant lust in his eyes. He liked what he saw. But at least he had the decency to try and avert his gaze. None of the other men did.
I had to look away from him. I wouldn’t allow myself to be distracted by the sheer perfection of his body.
Which was even better than I’d imagined.
“Do you think I’ll get disqualified?” I asked him. If I was going to be thrown out, I didn’t want to bother racing.
“For what?”
“My . . .” I looked around to make certain that no one could overhear us. “My power.”
“We are all using our gods-given talents. Is it fair that some people are faster and stronger than others? They’re celebrated for it. It doesn’t disqualify them from these events—why would it disqualify you?”
It was like he always knew the right thing to say.
There was a commotion off to the left and I saw the Epirian pointing at me. I couldn’t hear what he was saying but I assumed it wasn’t kind.
“I really hate Epirians,” I muttered.
“Not that I think you should poke the bear . . .”
“But if I wanted to poke the bear?”
“If you wanted to, the absolute worst thing you can say to an Epirian is ‘good luck.’ You’d be insulting his capability and skills and saying that the only way he can succeed is through random chance.”
“Levern!” I called out.
He stopped talking long enough to glare at me.
“Good luck!”
Zain was like some kind of cultural ambassador, even though he had secured that knowledge solely for nefarious reasons. He had been right.
Because I had never seen a person look so angry. Levern clenched his fists and his face turned a bright red. I couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction.
Maybe I should wish the Epirian good luck every time I saw him.
The announcer called out that the judges had arrived. There was a line of servants carrying men on litters.
“Why don’t they just walk to their table?” I asked.
“They’re showing us that they can afford not to.”
“But they’re judges for an athletic event.”
“Don’t try to understand the Sagari,” he said. “That way lies madness.”
The crowd cheered as the judges descended from their litters and took their places at the judging table.
The announcer quieted the people and launched into some speech about the sacredness and the history of the Tournament of Champions. I tuned him out, thinking about the race.
He finally managed to wind down and ended his speech with, “There is no greater glory for a man so long as he lives than that which he achieves by his own hands and feet!”
And no greater glory for a woman, I added silently.
The announcer pointed out the line of four dolphin statues that would be raised at the beginning of each lap so competitors would know where they were in the race.
“The first man to reach the finish rope wins. Racers into position!”
He was going to have to eat his words. It wouldn’t be a man finishing first.
There was a long row of brick slabs that had parallel grooves for our feet. Posts in the ground separated us from the runner next to us.
I had thought Zain would choose a position close to me, but he hadn’t. It didn’t matter where he was standing—the only thing that mattered was that I win.
The goddess’s voice was as clear and as sharp in my head as it had been last night.
Win.
I’m planning on it, I mentally replied.
“False starts will be subject to corporal punishment!” the announcer said. That seemed rather severe but false starts were a problem in almost every race I’d ever been in.
A silence fell over the stadium as everyone waited for the race to begin. I felt excited anticipation, my body gearing up to run.
“Go!” the announcer shouted.
Everyone surged forward immediately. The men near me sprinted out in front and I kept my pace. They would tire themselves out quickly. This was a longer race and they were going to need that stamina at the end.
My plan was to wait until the last lap and then pass everyone else. I could have run to the front and stayed there the entire time but I thought this would make it more fun for me.
And it would infuriate every other man running against me—especially the Epirian.
Zain was one of the leaders at the front of the pack. He was easy to spot because he was a head taller than everyone around him.
The second lap began and I inched my way forward so that I was in the latter half of the group. It was a comforting lull—the rhythmic sound and feel of my feet hitting the track again and again.
When the third dolphin had been raised, I moved my way up past the middle of the group, readying myself. The men around me were profusely sweating and groaning, straining to keep up with the others.
Then it was the fourth lap and finally time to make my move. I began to dart through openings so that I could get to the front.
I was thwarted in my effort by the Epirian, who had apparently convinced a handful of other men to block me. They formed a wall so that I couldn’t pass them.
The problem was they had no idea how fast I really was.
I looked behind me to make sure no one was in my path and came to a complete stop. Then I immediately darted to the right. I ran around the wall because the men on the far end hadn’t been expecting me and so made no move to stop me. I raced past Zain and could hear him laughing behind me.
Pumping my legs as quickly as I could, I hit the rope long before anyone else did. The stadium exploded with cheers, which surprised me.
I had expected their derision.
The Epirian managed to come in second behind me, and if he’d been able to kill me from his stare alone, he would have.
Zain came in at fourth position, good enough to get him into the final race. He ran over to me and asked, “Are you even tired?”
“No,” I admitted.
He laughed again. “That is a neat trick.”
The final race was organized immediately. The top five winners from the other heats were already in position.
Had this been done deliberately? Had I been allocated to the fifth heat so that I would be too worn out to win the final race?
What about the men who had raced with me? Was this an unlucky coincidence or had they been put into that heat intentionally, too?
Zain gulped down water.
“Be careful,” I told him. “You can cramp up.”
“I can’t believe I have to do this again,” he said. “Fortunately for me, I held back in that heat. I wanted to ruin the odds of everyone who bet against me in the final race.”
Now I was the one laughing.
“Racers in position!” the announcer said. It wasn’t far to walk, as the finish line and starting line were in the same location. I found a set of bricks and Zain did the same, several feet away.
I’d barely had time to prepare myself when the announcer again called out, “Go!”
I thought of Zain saying he wanted to ruin the odds of those who had bet against him. I decided to do the same.
There wouldn’t be any taking it easy this time. I darted forward, dodging the foot of a man who tried to trip me. Another racer sent his arm wide, attempting to clothesline me so that I would drop. I avoided him, too.
With as many people as there were racing, one of these men would eventually manage to do something that would mess up my race.
As if he knew I was thinking it, a competitor tried to throw an elbow at me, which caused him to lose his footing and crash to the ground, taking out three other racers with him.
I had to get ahead of the pack and stay there.
Making my way through the crowd of racers felt like negotiating a battlefield. I never knew where the next attack was coming from or how much damage it might do. I needed to get away from the fight.
So I spun and darted and found openings through which to move.
Despite all their best efforts to stop me, I finally made it to the front.
Zain wasn’t far behind me. He was fast. Surprisingly so.
I actually had to work a bit to keep my lead on him.
I reached up to my hairline. Sweat. He had made me sweat.
That hadn’t happened since I’d been a child.
The finish line was quickly approaching and Zain was nipping at my heels. Time to end this.
I ran faster than I had ever run in my life. I would be first. That was the only acceptable outcome.
But he wasn’t far behind. He was challenging me, making me work for it, and it made him even more attractive to me.
The final stretch. The finish line was in sight.
I reached deep inside myself and pulled out every bit of reserve energy that I had left and sprinted.