But am I really going to stay here and watch him be hurt?
“Are you all right, Your Highness?” This comes from Yarl, and he at least sounds concerned.
“Yes, of course.” I manage a watery smile. “It’s just that I find myself a tad anxious on the king’s behalf.”
He trades a puzzled look with Fuller.
“Perhaps you would like some refreshment?” Fuller says.
I stare at him like he’s mad. Refreshment? At a time like this?
“I doubt there’ll be time for that,” Boyd says from behind. He sounds like he’s yawning. “He’ll be crying for mercy before anyone can get up here.”
This is more than I can bear.
“How dare you,” I hiss, rising at last and rounding on him. The guard, his face paling, drops to his knees in shocked subservience.
“He didn’t mean to offend, Your Highness,” Yarl says, springing to Boyd’s side. “Please forgive him.”
I level a condemning finger at the kneeling guard. “He maligned the king as if I’m not sitting directly in front of him.”
Boyd wags his head from side to side. “No, never. I would never malign the king.”
“Did you not just say he willwhinefor mercy, Boyd?”
“I did, but about Seltzen, Your Highness.”
Seltzen? Boyd’s eyes dart behind me, only for an instant, but it’s long enough for me to mark his alarm and realize the crowd has fallen silent. Slowly, I turn to face The Pit.
Soren, his jaws locked around the neck of a writhing Seltzen, stares at me from across the arena.
“What is he doing?” I whisper, my eyes locked on the dragon.
Yarl bows low. “I believe he is pausing the fight until you return to your seat, Your Highness.”
Pausing the fight? The king and I gaze at one another as Seltzen continues to struggle beneath him. “He’s not in danger?”
“No, Your Highness. Not at all.”
His words settle over me like cool water as I gaze at the two combatants. While Seltzen thrashes like a caught fish, Soren doesn’t seem to be putting in the least bit of effort.
I was so wrapped up in my worry that I alone couldn’t see what everyone else was watching.
I face Boyd, my shame immense. “My deepest apologies, Boyd.”
He sets his gaze on the ground. “You owe me nothing, Your Highness.”
I find my own gaze dropping low. “But I do. I owe you my apology, and I pray you will accept it. Please stand up.”
He does so, and I move to my seat, the crowd’s eyes heavy on me. The dragon watches as I sit, and at the faintest nod from me, he releases the wyvern. Snarling with rage, Seltzen shakes himself and snakes back, his tail at the ready.
This time, I look with clear eyes. Seltzen lumbers forward, and once again, the tail comes flying out. Every move the wyvern makes seems to involve the appendage, as if he’s never trained the rest of his body. He brings the spiked end down like an axe, and I finally recognize the flash of motion that follows after for what it is.
Soren is nipping the wyvern’s ankles with all the indifferent and maddening persistence of a gnat.
Despite the disquiet my outburst caused, chuckles ripple through the crowd, and I understand at last that Soren’s subjects aren’t laughing at their king.
They’re laughing because he’s mocking his opponent.
