Chapter 16 #2
“That is not what I meant. But removing your head permanently would work,” I say sweetly, and his smile widens.
“Breathe, Ara,” he taunts, and I swallow because his words remind me of how concerned he was the last time he said that and how he held me.
I stare at him, my throat suddenly too tight.
“Is that too hard for you?” he asks, and for a second, something flickers in his eyes, then they harden again.
I glare at him. I bet using him as a target would improve my strikes considerably.
Then I huff out an irritated breath. This training is not about him, and I want to improve, so I do as he asks.
“Again.”
I comply, and he has me simply breathing with my eyes closed for what feels like eternity. It doesn’t help against the anger burning my skin from within, but I do manage to wrangle down the urge to attack him.
“Now try again,” Tate states calmly, and at first, my magic flows up easily. My hand heats, and a small flame dances over my palm.
But then memories come up, my handprint on the door, the one on Tate’s chest. My breathing picks up, and the images of my nightmare are back. Faces engulfed in flames, twisted in agony. Tate is begging me to stop. My breath becomes ragged. I shake the images off and try to catch my breath.
Tate watches me with an unreadable look. My hand is curled into a tight fist, my nails digging into my skin. The flame is gone.
“What happened there?” Tate asks, his voice softer now, but I evade his gaze and shake my head.
“Don’t act like you care,” I hiss.
“I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”
“You are the last person I’d let in,” I tell him. He tenses, but otherwise shows no reaction. None. Anger floods me like a tidal wave. Why am I still so affected by him when he is not?
“Try again,” he instructs.
I call the fire, and a darting flame shoots up into the sky.
It’s even more erratic than before, and just before I’m about to release it, there’s a surge of power, like my gift is spilling over.
I grasp for it, trying to hold it back, and the coolness of my magic gift tangles in it.
The result is an explosion unlike anything before.
It knocks me on my ass. Tate swears behind me and quickly smothers the flames that are billowing up into the sky.
“What the fuck was that?” he asks, his eyes running over me. My skin is hot. Whether it’s due to my embarrassment or my gift, I don’t know. I swat at a small flame dancing along a hair band wrapped around my wrist.
“Somehow, my curse became tangled up in it,” I grumble. Tate checks our surroundings, but it’s still just us. I get back up.
“Let’s not do that again,” he finally says, running his eyes over me again.
“That’s enough for today. Until we are back from patrol, I want you to do the breathing exercises at least twice a day and practice getting your emotions under control.
” It’s an order, but his voice isn’t as cold as before.
He’s sounding more like the old Tate again. I swallow.
There is no old Tate , I remind myself. He was just a lie.
When I realize he is waiting for an answer, I nod, my cheeks burning.
We walk across the sand and then step into the shadow of the cool passage leading out of the arena, our steps echoing on the smooth stone. There is the clatter of metal against metal somewhere in the distance, but we don’t see anyone apart from the guards at the entrance.
The silence is too heavy between us, vibrating with everything unsaid, and when my eyes fall on the guards at the door, I blurt out the first thing on my mind.
“Who would try to attack a building filled with warriors?”
Tate gives me a strange look. “They are for keeping people in, Ara, not out,” he says, and I feel foolish. I have never been to a gladiator fight and never thought about where they originated or why they fought. But there are some big names even I have heard of, and now he implies…
“The gladiators?”
“Them, the slaves serving them.” He shrugs. “One of the many things my father and I fought over many times.”
“But how can the king…?”
Tate shakes his head at me. “Don’t say it … not while others can hear you.”
We pass the guard, and he barely spares us a glance.
“How do they know who to keep in and who to let go?”
“They have marks, Ara. The gate might be enchanted, too, and the guards probably know everyone living here.”
I’m disgusted by this whole new side of the kingdom. Tate’s eyes soften a bit when he sees my face.
“I take it you didn’t have any slaves at Fortress Blackstone then?”
I shake my head.
“You grew up even more sheltered than I thought possible,” Tate murmurs, and I’m afraid he’s right.
The way back is silent, and I don’t even want to know what is running through Tate’s head.
He’s probably laughing about my naivety.
Only next to the revelation that there are people forced to fight for the entertainment of others and the debacle with Tynan’s people do my own problems seem insignificant.
“How did it go?” Calix asks when I’m back in the common room. I slump down onto the couch next to him. Joel sits on the opposite couch, with Mariel curled up next to him. They stop talking, their attention on me.
“Don’t ask.” I push a strand of hair out of my face, and his gaze snags on the charred band around my wrist.
“That good, eh?”
“Worse.” I pause. “Did you know that gladiators are slaves?” I ask, but I already know by the look they give me that they did.
“They are enemies captured during battles or criminals. Everyone knows that,” Mariel says.
“Well, I didn’t,” I snap and get back up. “I need a shower.” But what I need even more is time to myself. It's time to come to terms with the fact that if Mariel's claims are true, my family may have played a part in putting those people there.
It suddenly makes me question the image I had of my father and my brother. I remember that Dar was ready to sacrifice a girl to keep me safe. What else did they do over the years to protect me?
And what about Tate? He said he is against it, but is he telling the truth? And even worse, once I end up on the throne next to Frederick, and he doesn’t intend to change it… Would I even have the chance to disagree openly?
More sheltered indeed. I’m a blind woman trying to play a game I don’t even know the rules of.
My guilt about helping Tynan lessens. At least I’m doing something.