Chapter 2
THE OBLIGATION
VEXAR
“IUNDERSTAND THE risks, Marius. We have been over this.” I run a hand over my face and scratch the stubble already forming on my chin as Marius continues to drone on about the many risks I am unnecessarily assuming.
This is our last opportunity to speak before I sign my contract, and his repetitive nagging has my finger hovering over the mute button of the holoCom.
“If you would just accept the mate that was chosen for—”
“Marius,” I interrupt, “I am not interested in accepting that proposal, and I do not need to absolve myself of my vow.”
Marius makes a huff of frustration and brings the camera closer to his face. His dark brown eyes look almost black in the sunlight of my home-world as he whispers, “Drusa is a fine mate, and if you just agree to the proposal, we can ensure your safety.”
I nearly laugh. He thinks pairing me with Drusa will keep me safe? And that whispering will keep my refusal quiet? This news will spread no matter what we do, so let it. I will not allow my honor to be tarnished by whispers alone. My choice is one I stand by.
“I am not here to ensure my safety,” I say calmly. “I am here to prove my worthiness. To fulfill the Obligation. If the Obligation were without risk, there would be no point in doing it.”
Marius shakes his head. “If you are truly intent on fighting without medical care…” He trails off when he notices my stern expression. “Apologies. I will not bring it up again.”
His tone of defeat stings. I care about Marius, but his desire to protect me has eclipsed his reason and is bordering on disrespect.
We are a people of honor and strength. How can I lead such a people if I give in to a pairing with a female whose familial line has violently fought to overthrow my own?
It would be a stain on my reputation and a poor way to begin my rule.
No. I will rule the same way my ancestors did. With honor and strength. Besides, I have trained my entire life for this. My vow will not be a hindrance, of that much, I am certain.
“I am grateful for your concern, but I will be fine. You have trained me well, and my opponents will certainly pale in comparison to your skill.”
The hint of a smile on Marius’s face tells me the flattery is working. “You have seen your matches?” he asks.
I sigh and lean back in my cushioned chair, grateful for these last few moments of comfort. By the end of the day, I will be sleeping on a cot in a dank cell.
“I was given a brief overview,” I say. “No specifics, of course, but I know I will be paired with a low-level gladiator today, and the following two fights will be against mid-level fan-favorites. As discussed, Gaius has agreed not to pair me with any of his ‘criminals’, so all fights will be consensual. There is no need for concern.”
“Good. Remember your training and come home safe.”
“Thank you, Marius. I will speak to you in three days.” Almost as an afterthought, I add, “And please make sure my siblings do not cause too much chaos in my absence.”
Marius laughs. “Of course. I will speak to you again, mek Tyrna.”
I smile at the premature use of the moniker and end the call.
Gaius’s office appears to be more of a museum than a place of work, and I find myself staring curiously at his overflowing collection of artifacts.
Every wall is lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves, covered in an array of both strange and familiar pieces of technology from the empire’s past and present.
While I am certain he did not build this collection himself, it is interesting nonetheless.
“And you have reviewed the contract?” Gaius asks, folding his hands over his ample belly.
I settle into one of the unyielding stone chairs, crossing an ankle over my knee. “I have.”
Gaius, the Magistrate of this planet, watches me with a predatory gaze. He is Vhortahi, like myself, but it is painfully clear that our only similarities lie in our DNA. He has never lived on our home planet, nor does he have any interest in our people’s values.
In a crowd of Vhorathis, he would stick out like a blood stain on a white tunic.
Not because he is different, but because he is insecure about those differences.
He is a bit under two meters tall—which is not unusual—yet he wears shoes to give him added height.
His horns are underdeveloped and show signs of premature cracking, but he has gilded them to hide their imperfections.
He pretends to be fearless, and yet he wears a personal electron shield generator around his neck.
His rule over the Coliseum has been marked by dubious methods and erratic laws, and while his methods are technically legal, they lack any sense of honor.
Despite this, he has maintained his position for a surprisingly long time.
At least 15 cycles on this planet. Needless to say, his replacement is high on my list of priorities.
“Excellent,” he shouts, clapping his hands together.
“I am glad you have read and understood the agreement. Just to confirm, you still agree to the addendum on your medical care? You have not had any … life changes since we last spoke?” He raises his brows and scratches the base of one of his gilded horns.
Word does travel fast.
“I understand your propensity for hiring female nurses and the position that it puts me in, yes. And there have been no life changes.”
Gaius stares at me, clearly waiting for a further reaction. I hold his gaze and wait for him to continue.
“Right, yes. And you are aware we have not stocked any sedatives for you? Even for an emergency?”
“As I have already stated, I have read the contract.” This is becoming tedious.
Gaius unfurls a ridiculous scroll and gives me a curt smile. “Of course. If you accept the terms, please place your print here.” He points to a blank space at the bottom of the page.
Without hesitation, I sink a fang into the pad of my thumb, squeeze out a bead of blood, and stamp the contract. I was hoping this moment would be more … celebratory, but I suppose that is the way of things. You build them up in your mind until reality has no way of competing.
Gaius smiles. “Excellent. I will have the guards escort you to the preparation chamber.”
“When will the fight begin?”
His eyes narrow, and in a voice dripping with disdain and pomp, he says, “You are not a Prince of Vhorath right now. You are a gladiator. My gladiator. And you fight when I say it is time to fight.”
I do my best to hide my amusement.
Now that the power dynamic has flipped, the hungry cretin I have heard so much about appears.
Many people try to paint Gaius as mad, but he has held this position for a long time, and I doubt someone lost in the storm of insanity could accomplish that.
No. He is not mad. He is just driven by an insatiable thirst for dominance, and now that he has the future King of the Vhorathi Empire in his grasp, he is salivating.
It is as ridiculous as it his hilarious. Yes, we have a contract, but the contract is between him and me. It is only binding while we both draw breath, and he only draws breath because I let him.
I wonder if he realizes that?
Naturally, I could not kill him without consequences, and I would not want to anyway. He is lucky, really. It is not in my nature to disrespect his position of power. But, neither will I allow his arrogance to go unacknowledged.
When I stand, I do so slowly, rolling up to my full height until I am towering over his bent form.
Taking my time, I examine a collection of old hand-held holoComs on a dusty shelf, poking one out of its neat alignment while watching Gaius scowl out of the corner of my eye.
He does not scold me, and that alone tells me all I need to know.
With a curt nod, I duck through the doorway, gripping the stone arch with enough force to crack it before saying, “I will see you in the stands, Magistrate.”