Akadian silently mulled over what they’d told him. If it were true…
“Okay. I’m in. But if you’re wrong, they’ll kill us all.”And a magnificent death it would be…“Areallof you prepared to die?”
Magnus placed a hand on his beard, something in his eyes twinkling as he lifted his chin, his robes swishing around him as he did so. “I’m not wrong. And for her? I’d gladly lay down my life.”
“For bond and bloodlines,” the other three said in unison.
“Always,” the hostile female with reddish brown hair finished, her brows pressing together.
The corners of the prince’s mouth curled upwards. “Good.”
Chapter 11
Weeks passed without Ambrose speaking to anyone aside from Magnus or Akadian. She’d been taking private lessons with Magnus and had yet to be allowed into a group setting. The servants didn’t speak to her out of fear, and she couldn’t blame them. The nobles watched and whispered whenever she passed but never spoke directly to her, and she had little to say to them. Kept under a careful watch, Akadian never let her out of his sight unless she was with the Grand Mage. Even in the moments that appeared as though no one were watching, he was there, never far, like a panther on the prowl. Only in the dead of night did she have a quiet moment to her own thoughts. So far, she found no way of getting out of Akadian’s sight long enough to try and make her escape, but that didn’t stop her from searching for new opportunities every day.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re kinda creepy?” Ambrose rubbed the sleep from her eyes as Akadian unlocked her door that morning. “I heard you shuffling outside for hours last night.”
“Good morning to you too,” he replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he ran a hand through his messy curls. “Your day is going to be different today.”
“Do I finally get a group Magick lesson?” she asked eagerly, desperate for anyone else to talk to.
“Today, you’re fighting.” He threw a pile of clothes at her as well as some leather shoes. “Get dressed.”
Ambrose stood there as his words sank in and her excitement grew. “Fight training?”
“No, Little Rose.” He sat in one of the arm chairs and bit into an apple, tossing her one of her own. “Fighting. It’s time to see what you can do with a weapon. Put those on.”
Weeks gone and in all that time, they’d refused to put a sword in her hand. She was beginning to worry that they weren’t going to give her one at all and throw her into the arena with nothing to defend herself. Something leapt in her chest at the idea of holding a sword again.
She was going to get to fight.
She couldn’t help from enjoying the rush of anticipation that filled her veins, her muscles craving the weight of a sword again.
Who would she be facing?
Ambrose turned around and closed the bed chamber door behind her. Once back inside, she got a good look at the clothing he brought her. The leather pants slid up her legs like they’d been crafted to perfectly fit her. Tough—but soft. They allowed movement while giving no lag. The shirt was a simple white material, but on closer inspection, she saw it was made from arachne silk, the strongest fibers in the kingdoms. She cinched the leather of her corset around her body in expert timing and finished by lacing the shoes on, tying them up her calves. Forcing a few deep breaths, she straightened, and walked back out to Akadian.
As she emerged, he looked as though he wanted to say something, assessing eyes moving over her, mouth slightly open, before he closed it and decided against whatever it was. Instead, he said nothing and led her from his chambers, out of his secret garden, and into the heart of the palace. They continued in that silence until they reached one of the fighter training yards, which was already full of warriors paired off and challenging one another.
One man had his opponent trapped underneath him as he brought his club down over and over until the fighter’s face was unrecognizable. The fact that the man was dead didn’t deter him from continuing to crush his skull in. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Another set faced each other, blades crossed. One of them held their sword in one hand while he tried to hold in the contents of his abdomen with the other, a large gash carvedinto his stomach as blood poured from his mouth. The other brought his sword down in one finishing sweep and removed his head in one strike.
Paired off, each couple was surrounded by a group of onlookers who placed bets and exchanged silver and bronze crowns between hands as winners claimed their prize. Many cheered and shouted as they eagerly waited for their turn to step over the next dead body and face the victor. The deadliest fighters in the five kingdoms gathered in a brutal, bloody display.
“I’ve never seen fighting like this in my life.” Ambrose stared, horrified. Bodies lined against the wall had started to pile up as servants removed the fallen warriors.
“These are the rest of the Trial Champions,” Akadian explained.
So immersed in the sight around the courtyard, Ambrose jumped at the sound of his voice.
“They’re…” She tried to find the word.
“Monsters.” He finished for her.
“Terrifying.”
The air between them went as stale as the air in the lungs of the bodies piling up along the wall. The nervousness she’d been feeling that morning turned to full-blown terror. It was no secret the tournament would unveil monsters beyond one’s worst nightmares, things only the darkest of minds could conjure. Looking around it wouldn’t matter much, she wouldn’t make it far enough to see one anyway. She’d be dead as soon as it started. “I’m fighting one of them?Today?”
“Yes.”
