Page 79 of Thief of Hearts

If that Daemonian had chosen to shoot the Epirian in the neck instead of the chest, it would have gone through and hit Zain. My heart thundered in my chest, making me feel panicked. I had come so close to losing him.

And for what?

I reached over to hug him, just to reassure myself that he was intact and safe. If something had happened to him, what would I have done?

“Were you worried about me?” he teased as his arms went around me.

I couldn’t respond. I didn’t trust myself. I just hugged him tighter.

“Do you hear that? You won the last event, my illora.”

I pulled back so that I could see his face. “That’s not fair. You didn’t lose. You weren’t defeated by anyone in the arena. There was outside interference.”

“I’m on the ground, aren’t I? That’s the rule. You won. You were the last one standing.”

The stadium chanted my name and this time it felt like everyone was saying it. It was everything that I had thought I wanted, but it paled in comparison to the man in front of me.

I had gone and done what I’d been afraid of. I felt a real connection, an emotional one. I wanted more from Zain. I wanted to see him after the tournament ended.

And if that wasn’t possible, I decided that I would give myself this one night with him. A memory to hang on to for the rest of my life. It might break my heart, but I was willing to pay that price.

“Tonight,” I said.

“Tonight?” he repeated, unsure.

“We’re going to have a proper goodbye.”

His dark eyes lit up with understanding, and a barb of heat pierced me. He looked as if he was about to kiss me when the stadium fell silent. I turned to see the announcer on the dais. “The judges have voted and it is unanimous—Basileia of Thrace has not only won the final event, but she is the overall winner of the tournament!”

It was like the stadium exploded with sound. I grinned at Zain.

“Good moment?” he asked.

“Good moment,” I affirmed.

“Tonight will be better,” he promised.

Before I could respond, officials and judges were crowding around us, all speaking to me. Congratulating me, urging me to come with them so that I could be crowned.

I wanted to tell them all to go away and to have tonight start right this moment.

But this was all part of it. I would have to perform for them so that I could get my prize. I looked back at Zain, who mouthed the word “Later” to me, and I nodded and left with the Sagari.

They put me up on the dais. Music was playing, the crowd was still chanting my name, and they only got louder whenever I waved to them.

The announcer tried to call for silence but no one listened. They all continued to cheer, and so he gave up and motioned to one of the judges. That judge came over to place a golden crown of laurels on my head. It was a bit too big—it had obviously been made for a man.

But it stayed put and I waved again to the audience.

“Thank you so much,” I said to the people around me, hoping to beg off soon.

“Now you must come and let us celebrate you properly!” a different judge said.

“I—”

There was no time to protest. I was being prodded along, through the lower levels of the stadium and to the party room in the barracks. It was just as elegant and beautiful as it had been before, but no one was dressed formally this time, as we’d all just arrived.

People who hadn’t been interested in speaking to me or associating with me a few days earlier now all wanted to talk to and praise me. Several Sagari offered to become my sponsor for next year’s game, but I declined. The faces had started to blend together as one person after the next came up to me.