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“Yes. That’s not something you hear every day.”
“That’s not exactly what happened.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“They overtook the government and killed all dissenters in one big show. I was their …” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I was raised up by the leader as a symbol of what half-Fae and humans could do if they were given enough power. I was what his people always feared.”
“Because you had a dragon?” he said as he tried to piece together what she’d told him.
“Yes. That was part of it. But really, it was because … I had magic.”
Now, both eyebrows went up in surprise. “You are a Doma then?”
“No. Just a half-Fae girl who had more magic than they expected. Most half-Fae barely have any magic at all.”
“You don’t have any magic now. I’d have noticed.”
She swallowed back the rush of panic again. “They took it. They took my magic.”
The color drained from his face. “That’s possible?”
“They did it. They put me in a circle of thirteen Fae magic users and drained it out of me.”
A deep grief etched into every inch of his skin. “I am so sorry for your loss. I couldn’t imagine if they …” He sighed, weary. “Well, enough terrible has been done to me and my people, but not that. Never that. The Doma would have already stolen all the magic for themselves if they could.”
Kerrigan swallowed back her own sorrow at the loss. “The reason I keep making those gestures … is because I was trained to fight with magic. I don’t know how to trick my brain into not doing it.”
Constantine’s gaze was pensive. “I have an idea. How do you feel about skipping afternoon training and watching some of the fights?”
Her eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Yeah. There’s something I want you to see.”
“Count me in.”
Constantine ignored her request for a bath and threw water at her to wash off some of the sand. She grumbled at him, but he claimed he wouldn’t do any better for his male gladiators so she needed to stop complaining. She at least changed into a fresh dress. She might be able to wear the pants and loose shirt for training, but the city was still too prudish for that out in public.
He nodded at her as they exited the house and made their way toward the coliseum. The stink that came off the river as the crowds took over the eastern side of Carithian was like nothing she had ever endured. It was as if the mass of unwashed bodies mingled with spilled wine and piss on every corner.
“Tournament manure,” he grumbled.
Constantine kept a tight grip on her arm as he maneuvered them through the crowd. He paid their fees and then entered the coliseum. Her breath caught at the full magnitude of the arena. Thousands of people filled the stands, cheering on the events on the sand. The floor had been divided into various obstacles. At the moment, sword fighting and staff fighting took up the majority of the space. Hand-to-hand combat had a circle drawn with white chalk in one corner, and men grappled within their circle.
Kerrigan was drawn to one sword fight where a woman with the onyx skin of her best friend, Darby, stood more than six feet tall. Taller even than the man she was fighting against. Her sword was more than half her length, and she whaled on the man with ease. Kerrigan had never seen anything like it.
“Wow,” she breathed.
Constantine followed her gaze. “Cendrean,” he explained as if that made sense to her.
She elbowed her way past a pair of drunk men. “What’s that?”
“Another country conquered by the Doma. It resides across the Bearr Sea. Cendrea was the home to great kings and queens that ruled far and wide for a long time. They say that their gods lived among them, influencing the events of the day. If they did, then they didn’t account for the Doma.”
“Of course.” Kerrigan couldn’t take her eyes off of the woman. She was so fierce and strong. “She’s formidable. Why is she in the sword fighting and not the main match?”
He shrugged. “Probably makes decent money in the lower fights for her master.”
Right. The woman didn’t get to make her own choices. She was owned by someone else. Even having spent nearly so long in Domara, she still was not accustomed to the realities of slavery. She hoped she never was.
Constantine finally settled on one match in a far-off corner. There were just as many people shouting and jeering at the competitors. This was a hand-to-hand match, and both men were large and Domaran. There was no clear winner by the time the match ended. The two shook hands and walked off.
“Disappointing,” she muttered.
“We’re not here for them.” Constantine gestured to the next pair who stepped into the ring. “See the smaller of the pair?”
