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I hesitated, not wanting to burden her with the truth. But then I shook my head. “No, they do not.”
“Then what am I supposed to do to increase my chances of surviving? Huh? This isn’t like making a sale, like pandering drugs to a salivating medical community desperate for the next big breakthrough for their ailing patients. I’m not a fighter. Hell, I barely make it through hot yoga without dying. I can’t do this.”
Before I could respond, before I could find the words to soothe this stranger, a brisk knock sounded on the chamber’s double doors.
Her gaze flicked to the carved ivory, face flushing a lovely shade of pink.
I stood, offering my hand. She refused it, scrambling to her feet on her own power. She stood before me, four heads shorter than my own frame. Tiny, yet determined.
“We are in the same vessel, Gwen. We will both survive.” My fingers flexed, wanting to lift and reset on her shoulder in comfort.
She blinked, looking up at me. Lightning flashed in her eyes.
“No, Your Highness, we are in the same storm, but our ships? Those are very, very different. You’re royalty, and I imagine you dying in these games would look pretty bad for those in charge. But me? I’m a nobody. I’m cannon fodder. Someone distracting you send to the front lines to be slain first. But I’ll tell you right now; I’m not going quietly. I’m not going down without a fight. I’ll die trying to get home.”
Dismor burst into the room then, spear lifted and ready to fight. I hadn’t responded to her, and she’d gone into battle mode. Her posture calmed once she saw I was unharmed.
Behind her, retired gladiators stormed in with a yellow-haired human at their helm.
“You,” the woman seethed, “I told you no funny business.” She walked right up to Gwen and slapped her across the face. Gwen stood her ground, not so much as a whimper escaping her lips as a trickle of blood reddened the corner of her mouth.
It was all I could do not to attack the woman. To fight them all and protect this stranger I found so intriguing.
Yet I could do nothing now, not here. Not when I needed to protect my entire planet. It was imperative that I entered the competition without unknown variables mucking up the works. As soon as the bonding ceremony was over and I found myself in the midst of battle, then my contract would be fulfilled. For I did not have to survive to the end. I only had to show my face at the beginning. No doubt Bloodworm was already plastering my visage on every advertisement for his perverse game of death.
Though Gwen had one thing right—it would not be good optics for royalty to die in the Galactic Gladiator Games. I was sure, should I be on the brink of death, I would be rescued and restored. A King’s blood would not wash away so easily.
And the woman had another thing right, she was unimportant in the scheme of things. Just another sacrifice.
But I knew there was a way… a way to keep her safe.
