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“As are you.”
He nodded. “I had no choice. Iris commanded it. She thought my winning would bring her glory.” He paused as if considering what else to say of his mistress. “And she does not care who lives or dies.”
“I chose this.”
His head whipped up. “Why? Why would you do that?”
“I thought I could get the gift from the gods, and then I could find us a way home. I didn’t know that you would be competing. That you could get that gift and send us home yourself.”
“She’ll never let me claim anything. Your master will allow you to take the gift?”
“It was our bargain. Once I saw you, I knew that I had to do something to get out. Finding my mother has been near impossible. I have no autonomy here. I spent a week just failing at even existing in the world.”
“As did I,” he admitted. He ran a hand back through his midnight hair. “Those were dark times.”
“And your magic? Still leashed?”
He nodded once precisely. “She doesn’t trust that I won’t leave.”
“Because you would.”
“To find you? Anything.”
Frustrated tears came to her eyes at those words. She’d been so mad at him for being here, but it hadn’t been his choice at all. And neither of them could do a damn thing about it now.
“Oh, Ford, what are we going to do? They said I can’t drop out.”
His mask slowly slid back into place as he said, “Then, you’ll have to kill me.”
She slapped him across the face. Not hard, but enough for his indignation to come out over that infuriating blankness. “Don’t ever say that again.”
He actually laughed, and it was a beautiful sound. “How I love you.”
He kissed her again, hard and long and full of promise.
A throat cleared behind them. Fordham jumped away from her. His hands were behind his back, that careful blankness once again on his face.
“My apologies for the interruption,” Constantine said.
Kerrigan released a breath. “You found me.”
“I had a feeling there was only one place you were going.” Constantine looked between them, putting the pieces of what had happened together. “But we should go now. Iris is on her way. You wouldn’t want her to find you together.”
Fordham shuddered at that fact. “Go,” he ordered.
“When will I see you again?”
He glanced at Constantine and back. “The party. Meet me in the gardens. I’ll get away when I can.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you.” She pressed one more kiss to his lips. A promise.
Then, she dashed out of the gladiators quarters. They passed Iris on their way out. She didn’t even acknowledge their presence as she went for her champion. Kerrigan had the sudden urge to jump out at the woman and slit her throat for the horrors she’d done to Fordham.
Constantine must have seen the expression cross her face. He clamped a hand on her wrist. She sighed and followed him away from the princeps’s wife.
“Iris is one of the few female gladiator trainers. There is a reason that she’s had so many win the tournament. Her magic induces intense pain. She might just kill you for the audacity.”
Kerrigan frowned, imagining how that had been used against Fordham. “I’ll kill her.”
Constantine nodded. “As would I.”
She glanced at him. “I still can’t drop out, can I?”
“No.”
“I can’t kill him.”
“I know.”
“What will we do?”
He just shrugged one shoulder. “We’ll figure it out.”
But she very much doubted that.
29
The Victors
The eight winners of the first round of the tournament were invited to a special banquet in their honor. What it really looked like was a who’s who of Domaran nobility, eating large quantities of food from an overstuffed buffet while mostly naked servants refilled wine goblets. Meanwhile, the actual honored guests stood in a stiff line before them. More statues than competitors.
Constantine had been banned to a separate room because he was Andine. Kerrigan didn’t know why he had even been invited at all if he was going to be holed up in some closet with lesser folks. The indignation on his face had only made it worse for her to watch him be swept away.
The competitors were placed in competition order, which meant that Kerrigan stood on one side in the white and gold-trimmed Doma-style dress, and Fordham was on the other in all black. The other winners were a mix of men and women from Domara’s conquered countries—Alfheim, Gallia, Cendrea, Andine, and Rutslan. Only the Larksian competitor had been eliminated by a Domaran. That meant two of the eight competitors left were Domaran, which Kerrigan thought said something for the quality of their fighters. Or perhaps most people refused to risk good Domaran men when there were plenty of conquered slaves to throw at a fight. Either way, it made her blood boil.
If all of that wasn’t bad enough, Tarcus was seated directly in front of her. His smirk said it wasn’t a coincidence. With Constantine absent, she didn’t trust Tarcus not to do something stupid. Especially with his wife throwing furtive looks at her husband and then angry looks at Kerrigan when she couldn’t get his attention. As if Kerrigan wanted his attention.
