26. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Two days later, the guards came to fetch Katell but remained tight-lipped about her opponents.
“Be strong, we’ll be watching from the gates.” Sinope clasped hands with her, her complexion paler than usual in the beam of sunlight.
Nik gave her an encouraging nod from his cell.
The guards didn’t lead her to the armoury but to a separate room filled with tunics, tebennas, robes, and other clothes of all shapes and sizes. Costumes, Sinope had once explained. Aurelius organised re-enactments of important imperial or heroic battles from the past, and many costumes were prepared for such occasions to dress up the Samnites and slaves.
Two female Non-Humans brought her pale pink folds of cloth and stripped her of her regular tunic. Speechless, Katell watched as they wrapped the sheer fabric across her body, pinning it at her shoulders and fastening it underneath her breasts with a tight belt.
“No armour?” she asked. Among all the dresses and fabrics, there wasn’t a hint of steel or bronze.
“Chiton,” the one with coarse blond hair and a thick neck answered. With each interaction, Katell realised that Non-Humans understood only a handful of Koine words.
The chiton was the loose Achaean style of dress. The shorter version could serve for combat purposes, but the pink fabric the Non-Humans chose was far too elegant. They tied it around Katell’s body, revealing her curves.
Next, they worked on her hair, braiding it in an elaborate style and weaving tiny golden ornaments and pearls on top like a crown. She stared at her reflection in a bronze mirror and blinked. Was she getting ready for a fight, or had Aurelius planned to marry her off?
The Samnite guards returned, and they took in her appearance with lewd smiles. Her cheeks burned, and she trailed behind them without a word, descending deeper beneath the arena, closer to the feline cages. The air grew cooler and smelled of damp earth. Above her, the ceiling rattled with the crowd’s cheering and stomping.
Aurelius waited ahead amid the orange glow of torches hanging on the stone walls. As usual, he was extravagantly dressed, his belly concealed beneath swaths of colourful cloth. A large gold necklace hung from his thick neck.
At the centre of the empty enclosed area behind him, metal chains hung from a wooden post on a square platform.
Katell froze. Not only was she going into the arena unarmed, but they were also going to tie her up?
“My dear, you are absolutely ravishing,” Aurelius greeted as if meeting an old acquaintance. “This is exactly what I had in mind when I decided you should play our heroine, Atalanta.”
The name meant nothing to Katell, but Aurelius’ smug expression raised alarms in her mind. She thrashed against the guards, but they swiftly pulled her towards the dais and proceeded to chain one of her wrists to the post above her head.
“There’s no need to be concerned. I merely had the brilliant idea of using your healing ability as a form of entertainment.” Aurelius surveyed the guards’ work from afar. They switched the gold dampeners around her wrists for smaller bronze bands around her ankles. “The prisoners from the last Eluvite revolt need to be dealt with, and I decided to give them a fighting chance. Just like Atalanta’s suitors, they will fight for their survival. A footrace was too boring, so they will try to beat you instead. If they succeed, then they will be spared. Of course, they must first get past my army of lions and tigers.”
A biting chill tightened its grip around Katell’s heart.
Aurelius chortled and clapped his jewelled hands together. “So, there you have it. If the prisoners manage to injure you, they can live. I trust you will be fine; you have a knack for surviving all kinds of trouble, and your healing magic should prevent you from dying. Although I must warn you, those bands on your ankles refrain you from having full access to your Gift. We don’t want you using your strength to interfere with the prisoners’ chances, do we now? As for your healing—”
He snapped his fingers, and a guard sliced Katell’s upper arm with a knife. She stifled a cry and craned her neck to see the deep slash running across her skin. Blood pearled along the wound and then dripped down her arm, staining the soft pink folds of her dress. She fought against her restraints, but the chains held tight.
“It appears Castur was right. The smaller bands work marvellously.” Aurelius peered at the gash, his gaze gleaming with excitement.
Katell’s heart twisted in her throat. Though moments had passed, the bleeding had barely subsided. The wound should have already disappeared without a trace.
“I suppose you will still feel the pain, but no matter, as long as you survive.” Aurelius took a step back, signalling to the guards. “Just remember that it’s all for the glory of the arena.”
“You’re a monster,” she hissed.
Something dark crossed the arena master’s features, and a tight smile settled on his lips. “No, my dear, I am what the people of Bruna need me to be in order to keep them happy and entertained. We mortals can’t help being drawn to violence. We might maintain a fa?ade of civility, but deep down, we all long to flirt with death. And I provide the means for it.” He cocked his head as if speaking to a child. “Try not to save too many prisoners today. They don’t make the best household slaves, and Emperor Tarquinius prefers to see his enemies dead.”
Katell cursed him, thrashing against her chains, but the ceiling groaned, drowning out her voice. The trap door opened, and beams of blinding sunlight shot down, accompanied by the roars of the crowd. The platform shuddered beneath her feet and rose, jerking her from side to side.
When she emerged from the dark tunnels into the open stadium, the stands screamed and chanted her name.
Her pulse raced. The dais lifted higher and formed a stepped pyramid. From the top, the cheers were deafening, and the crowd appeared like a colourful mosaic undulating with excitement.
Once the platform stopped, she tugged on her locked wrist again, using her feet as leverage against the wooden post. The chains didn’t budge.
Trumpets and horns blared through the arena. The announcer emerged from the canopy where the nobles sat and presented the battle to come. “I give you Atalanta’s suitors, the vile prisoners who dared to defy the Empire: the Eluvite rebels!”
The crowd reacted accordingly, booing and howling at the huddled group that was pushed through the main gates. The men were dressed up like Achaean warriors of the past, armed with bronze breastplates, spears, and shields. Beneath their armour, they looked haggard and thin. Hiding among them, women and children clung to each other, their wide eyes darting about the Pit.
Katell stilled, her fear melting away. Aurelius had mentioned war prisoners. She’d expected hardened soldiers ready to slice her to pieces. She’d never imagined the arena master would send villagers and children against her.
“Let the games begin!” The hidden trap doors groaned again, and hungry felines leapt out: lions, leopards, and tigers. They trotted around the arena, assessing their prey. The strongest men among the prisoners took charge, keeping the beasts back with their spears while the women and children rushed towards the raised dais.
A tiger growled, baring its fangs, then pounced on the nearest woman. She fell with a piercing shriek. Despite the men’s attempt to rescue her, the beast’s strong jaws crushed her throat.
Panic rippled through the group, and they fled in all directions, screaming and stumbling over each other. Some were pushed to the ground, while the majority scrambled towards the stepped platform.
Spears soared through the air in Katell’s direction, but none reached her.
At last, a tall, sinewy man threw his spear, and it grazed her thigh. She hissed through her teeth, and the pink cloth covering her leg bloomed red.
Without warning, sharp pain tore up her arm, bright and merciless. She gasped, thrashing against her chains. When she looked, a leather hilt jutted from the flesh above her elbow; the blade itself had gone all the way through her arm. Warm blood soaked her skin at alarming speed. Gritting her teeth, she blinked her tears away and grasped the knife. Every movement was agony, but she fought through it and pulled the blade out with a swift jerk.
Her arm burned like a thousand bee stings, and white spots exploded behind her eyeballs. She howled, falling to her knees, and waited for the pain to subside. In the distance, women and children screamed, but their heart-wrenching cries were no match for the tumultuous roar of the crowd.
Spears flew over her head, missing her as she slumped against the wooden post. When her healing magic surged forth and the pain receded at last, she opened her eyes again and watched the massacre below.
The sinewy man who’d grazed her thigh and the one who’d thrown the knife had been allowed to escape. The others remained trapped in a nightmare.
The leopards pounced on every prey they could. Many children were dead, their mothers beating their fists against the felines feasting on their tiny bodies, to no avail. The men sacrificed themselves to save the remaining children, who scrambled to safety up the steps. The lions soon caught on and followed their prey.
Katell was their only chance for survival. And in a moment of clarity, she knew what she needed to do.
Wounds half-healed, she pushed up to her feet and spread her arms, making herself as tall and wide as possible.
The perfect target for the handful of prisoners still alive.
A spear flew towards her. She threw herself in its path and the sharp tip grazed her side, slicing her skin like ripe fruit. Blood beaded along the cut before soaking her ruined dress. Lightheaded, she stumbled, pressing her free hand against her ribs. Without warning, she was struck again in the back and toppled forward. Her chained wrist twisted behind her with a snap.
White-hot pain rolled through her body, and a scream tore through her lips. Then, something cold and sharp dug into her shoulder blade, and another wave of agony clouded her sight. The world spun around her. She whimpered and folded into herself, kneeling against the rough wooden post. Her chained wrist would heal, but whatever weapon had embedded itself in her back needed to come out.
Trembling, she gingerly patted her back with her free hand, searching for the blade. Black dots clouded her vision, but she pushed on until her fingers touched the hilt, and mustering her strength, she took a deep breath and pulled.
Pain bloomed behind her eyes, robbing her of rational thought, and she let out a strangled cry. The blood-covered dagger clattered to the side. Warm blood gushed down her back like a waterfall.
She curled in on herself, shaking all over.
This was the end.
She couldn’t survive such a deep wound, much less two.
Every jostle, every gasp was agony. Katell closed her eyes and drew in short, stuttered breaths, waiting for the release of death.
Perhaps it was better this way. After all, what had she done with her life except fail everyone around her? Damocles had kept so many secrets. He must not have thought her strong enough to hear the truth. The Freefolk hated her, Scylas more than anyone, and Alena…
She’d failed her sister the most.
She’d failed to keep her safe from the dangers of the world and had left her in the care of a stranger they’d barely known.
She didn’t deserve to live after what she’d done, but the idea of losing to Aurelius—of all people—of leaving Sinope behind and disappointing Nik was more intolerable than any wound inflicted on her body.
Her fingers curled into fists against the wooden dais, and her eyes flew open.
By the Moon! This would not be the end for her.
Gathering the last dregs of her strength, she lifted her head. A blond boy, scrawny and bug-eyed, watched her lie in a pool of blood. Clutching a small girl with matted blonde hair beside him, he took a hesitant step forward. A lion with a dark, shaggy mane roared below, and the girl sobbed, burying her face in the boy’s tunic.
The boy advanced another step, whispering into the girl’s ear, all the while keeping his wide eyes fixed on the hungry lion, which was headed straight for them.
Katell pulled herself up, ignoring the pain that flared within her. Aurelius and her patron be damned, she would save them even if it killed her.
Crawling closer, she nudged the discarded dagger towards the boy and extended her trembling leg as far as possible. “Do it.” Her voice came out scratchy and raw. “Save yourselves!” She nodded in encouragement.
The boy snapped out of his stupor, and picking up the blade, he slashed her calf. Katell muffled her strangled cry and dug her fingers into the wooden post behind her, fighting against the searing pain. The boy turned ashen at the wound. Then he pulled the girl closer, wrapped her small hand around the dagger, and stabbed the soft flesh of Katell’s calf again.
The little girl screamed, thrashing and crying. Tugging her away, the boy glanced back at Katell one last time before running from the approaching lion.
Wracked with pain, Katell’s vision blurred, yet through the torment, she smiled.
The children were spared. She had saved them.
It was the only comforting thought that ran through her head as she lay, shaking, in a pool of her own blood.
Her breathing turned shallow, her healing Gift unable to keep up with all the open wounds. The pounding rhythm of her heartbeat echoed in her ears, drowning the frenzied chants and cacophony surrounding her.
After an eternity, trumpets blasted through the arena. The raised platform shook and began its slow descent back into the arena’s underbelly, where Aurelius surely awaited to gloat about the show’s success.
Something caved inside her chest, and a suffocating darkness erupted within, enveloping her heart as the underground tunnel closed in around her.
As soon as the platform stopped moving, the guards unlocked her broken, chained wrist, and a familiar face swam before her.
“Katell!” Sinope’s shimmering eyes looked like two stars coming to guide her to her ancestors. “You saved them!”
She could barely hear the Amazon against the thunderous roars above.
“Can you hear the crowd? They’re chanting your name! You saved them and they love you for it! Your patron is furious with Aurelius. He hadn’t expected this at all. No one did, but you did it.”
Sudden pain radiated through Katell’s leg, and she snapped back into full consciousness.
“Hold on,” came Nik’s apologetic voice. “You won’t heal unless the dagger comes out. Hang in there, Kat.”
By the Moon, she wanted to scream at him to stop. To leave the blade in her flesh and let her die in peace. To stop calling her ‘Kat’, because only Alena had that right.
But in the next beat, the blade was out, and Nik was hoisting her up in his arms. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
His deep voice was a gentle murmur against her hair, the only source of comfort amid all the pain. She buried her face against his warm chest and welcomed the overwhelming darkness.
“Sleep now, you deserve it.”