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A laugh cracked the emptiness in her chest at those words. “Everyone.”
He nodded as if he were looking at a fellow soldier. As if maybe he saw her for what she really was and not the porcelain doll everyone had been dressing her up as since she’d landed in the gods-forsaken country.
Then, the look disappeared, and he was back to business as usual. He couldn’t see her for her reality. Not when it didn’t fit into his world view.
“This way,” Constantine said.
She had no fight in her. Not after the senseless slaughter she’d witnessed. It wasn’t as if she had been under some illusion that Domara was a great and wise country. Only a few weeks in the country had wiped away that illusion. But sometimes, it was still hard to reconcile it with the romanticized land of the gods she had always believed it was.
Constantine moved to the front of a line and showed a man with all gray hair a large letter with a coat of arms on it. The man inspected it, sucking on his teeth as he considered the letter against the man behind it. Then, he waved him through.
“General Constantine Pallas of Leon,” the man said, “in which events are your gladiators participating?”
Constantine passed him another letter, which the man unrolled and read out loud. Each of the soldiers came forward to beat their fist against their chest twice in acknowledgment of their entry.
“Excellent. These seem in order.” The man scratched his quill against a list. “There has been a change in the final tournament. Are you aware of this?”
“A change since when?”
“Yesterday. The prize money is the same, but Doma Vulsan has raised the stakes and offered the winner a Gift.”
Constantine blinked in apparent shock. “A Gift from the gods for a tournament win?”
“Indeed,” the man said. “He wanted to get in as many competitors as he could.”
Kerrigan looked between the two men. Both seemed shocked by the news. The pot money for winning in the final tournament was already astronomical. She’d heard the men discussing it on the boat ride here. But a gift from the gods?
Her heart thumped in her chest. The Doma had the power to get her home. They had the ability to stop what was happening in her world. And all she had to do was win a tournament. A plan began to form in her mind. She suddenly knew exactly what she needed to do.
15
The Party
“You can’t enter the tournament,” Danae said later that day.
“I can’t enter on my own,” Kerrigan agreed.
Danae shook her head. “No. There is no way anyone would let you enter.”
“Why? Because I’m a woman?”
“Women enter the tournament. Domara has conquered many other countries than just Andine. Their women are more formidable than ours were ever allowed to be. You’ll see many of them at the tournament.”
“So, why not me?”
“You could enter the nonlethal fights,” Danae argued, “but you’re talking about entering the main fight. The fight to the death!”
“And?”
“You look like a Doma!”
“And?”
“There’s no magic allowed.”
“All the better because I don’t have magic.”
Danae huffed noisily. “You have magic resistance.”
“Will that disqualify me?”
“Well, no …”
“Then, I’m going to enter.”
“My father will never approve that.”
Kerrigan chewed on her lip. That was the rub, wasn’t it? Constantine didn’t even believe that women should fight. Let alone enter the tournament. He wasn’t going to want his pretty investment to enter with the possibility that she might die.
She shrugged. “I’ll figure it out. I have to enter.”
“To get home?” Danae intuited.
Kerrigan sighed. “Yes. My people are my first priority. I was sent here to get help.” She opened her mouth to tell Danae about her mother, but the thought withered in her mind. She couldn’t explain her parentage without opening up a whole can of worms. “This is the easiest way to get the help I need.”
Danae cut her a sharp look. “You’ll have a mighty time convincing my father. He’s not going to do it willingly.”
“I know.”
A knock sounded at the door, and then the older Andine woman, Agnes, entered the room. “I was told to prepare you for the festivities this evening.”
Kerrigan glanced at Danae in confusion. “What festivities?”
“The week before the tournament, there’s always hundreds of parties,” Danae said.
“The general was invited to about a dozen over the course of the week,” Agnes said.
“Is that normal?”
Danae shook her head. “He never gets invited. But he’s never had a gladiator in the main tournament before either.”
“So … this might have nothing to do with me?”
Danae looked dubious. Kerrigan felt similarly.
Still, she let Agnes do her job. Danae had pointed out public bathhouses along the roadside yesterday. But Constantine had refused to let her go for this event. And since the house wasn’t equipped with a private hot spring like in Eivreen, heated water was brought in from the kitchen for Kerrigan’s bath. Agnes worked a miracle with her natural curls, piling most of it on the top of her head and leaving the rest of the tendrils flowing. She’d scoffed at a similar style when Flavia made her wear it, but she’d seen enough Domaran people to understand it was very in fashion. She applied cosmetics, highlighting her Domaran features and leaving her skin as porcelain pale and freckled as ever. Her Fae-touched ears were revealed for dramatic effect.
