by Vi Voxley
I wonder what it is that you think you know?
He said nothing. No use in giving himself away voluntarily.
Grom looked as though he was willing the truth to appear just by staring it down. Areon, for his part, did not yield under the gaze. But that wasn’t all the champion had come to say.
Funny thing was, he’d almost liked Grom. The champion was a respectable warrior; Areon himself was not. He was a rogue type, not one to put his life in needless risk. Helping Ronay had been a fluke, meant to impress Violet and take a calculated risk. Grom, however, was a leader of his people. He was the first to battle and the last out of it. And he had helped him on the arena, for whatever selfish reasons they were. So Areon had been almost sorry at the prospect of having to kill him.
Up until the moment he said: “They told me about you and Violet.”
A smile dragged his lips upward, the one the Raider Prince sometimes gifted to people who didn’t know they were dead yet.
“What about me and her?” he asked quietly.
The champion barked a laugh. “So it is true. You fight for her.”
“I don’t know what you’ve heard.”
“You’ve met the calaya before.”
“I was a guard for the Overlord once, yes.”
“I see,” said Grom, a cruel smile twisting his face into a grimace. “And so you think you’re going to walk away from here with the main prize.”
I am.
He said nothing. There was nothing he needed to prove to Grom.
The champion gave him another hard stare, the twisted grin still on his lips. “I don’t know who you are,” he said at last. “All I know is that you are not what you seem. I find it very hard to believe that you’d be the Prince, or the rumors about him are strongly exaggerated. It makes little difference to me. I will kill you if I have to.”
My job opportunities keep going sour.
“And then I will take your prize. The Overlord isn’t the only one who hates being mocked, or being used for someone else’s benefit.”
The words about him had been easy to bear, but Violet coming up again made Areon’s fists clench. He had to fight down every urge and instinct in him not to strike out and kill the champion. Soon he might have to. He gave the champion a long, measuring look. Reim had been right so far – Grom was the one he had to look out for.
“Violet is mine,” he merely stated, looking Grom straight in the eye.
The champion appeared surprised, like it had been a while since someone dared to do that. Then the bravado returned.
“We’ll see,” he growled. “I almost wish you didn’t have to die, just so you’d know I fucked the little calaya in her tight, juicy cunt. And in that wicked mouth every time she dares to speak of you, until the only name on her lips is mine.”
You’re a true charmer, Areon thought as Grom stomped away. Presumably he thought it was a fitting end to their pleasant exchange.
The Raider Prince grinned. The victory was getting sweeter by the minute.
***
They didn’t go to the arena unarmed this time. Filthy and still quite tired from the gnaour experience, the champions were led to the armory. Several eyes lit up – finally a decent way to defend themselves and kill others, simple and straightforward.
The fact that Grom chose the heaviest, spikiest club on the wall didn’t surprise Areon in the slightest. However, Ronay’s choice of a long spear did, he’d have thought a guy that bulky might have gone for raw power as well.
Areon watched Reim pick a long, two-handed sword from the rack. In fact, all of the weapons were simplistic, nothing more than they appeared. None were mechanically approved or hid secrets. They were what they were, just tools in a man’s hand. It was traditional in the tournaments to not let anyone’s gadgets decide the endgame. The tournaments were won by men, not the equipment they could buy. Or else it would have been child’s play for Areon – his incredible new armor rested well-hidden not far from the arena.
One by one, swords and spears and axes disappeared from the racks. He found himself admiring a shorter sword and the shield that came with it.
No need to overcompensate, he thought, taking them from the wall. Besides, any shield to block Grom’s bloody club is probably a good idea.
He sent a quick reprimanding look to Reim, to see if his second-in-command appreciated him being cautious. An amused smirk told him he did. And then the gong called them to the arena again.
In all honesty, Areon still felt the first trial of the day in his bones. Gnaour were no joke and he’d missed out on a few rounds of the antidote when he met with Violet. Completely worth it, but not helping him on the arena. Compared to him, the others definitely seemed better rested.
Was it too much to hope the Overlord might go easy on them that evening?
Yes. It really is.
He looked at the arena. Nothing gave it away. In truth, everything was reminiscent of a duel round – weapons in their hands, empty arena. Was it really that time already? Areon didn’t mind. He might ask to be paired with Grom. Just to feed those words about Violet back to Grom’s wicked mouth with the steel in his hands.
The Overlord asked the calayas if they wished to give their favor. Despite himself, Areon felt unsure. It was an uncommon feeling for him, tickling sweetly at the back of his mind. Only Violet could make him feel like that.
Maige stepped forward at once, wishing Ronay strength and courage in the upcoming trial, with her favor to guard him.
Good girl, Areon thought, smirking a bit. You didn’t say luck. No luck in the Overlord’s tournament.
And then Violet was up. The audience murmured in surprise, but not half as much as when she spoke his name in a quiet, reverent voice. He couldn’t stop the grin if he wanted to, just for the looks he saw on everyone’s faces. The audience was shocked; everyone knew Violet wanted the Raider Prince.
Don’t worry, he comforted her in his mind. You’ll get your prize too, little one.
Irmela seemed amused, if anything, but the Overlord looked seriously taken aback.
He really hates me, huh.
No matter what the Overlord might have thought on the matter, Violet had made her choice. Areon had to admit that for a time there, he hadn’t been sure if she would. The letter from the Prince had been a cruel gamble, a test for her, but how else would he know? He had to know her real feelings before he was exposed on the arena. Now he did and, just like he’d told Violet, everything was fine. They belonged to each other now and everything else was just things that happened.
The look on Grom’s face was precious too.
The rest of the calayas said nothing, as could be expected. It wasn’t often that a calaya announced a favorite, anyway. It was too cruel to them and to the champions, who were usually up for the most dangerous trial yet. Still, from the few glances Areon could spare from looking at Violet, he thought he saw a few looks directed at Reim, Marelle among them. He grinned even wider, two calayas for the Raiders wasn’t a bad haul, not bad at all.
The Overlord was still looking at his daughter, visibly distressed. Areon had to admit he hadn’t thought the man had it in for him that much. And when the old champion turned his cold eyes on him, he understood.
That bastard knew.
It was fair enough. If Grom had picked something up and Ronay had figured it out, it would have been disappointing if the Overlord didn’t have his doubts about him. The look aimed at him was freezing, but he was still Areon. He replied with the same grin, holding on to his charade until the very last moment he could.
What a surprise it was going to be for Violet, he thought, smiling.
For a second there, he thought he saw the Overlord hesitate, for Violet, no doubt. Perhaps he was unsure. It was clear how much he fought the mere idea of Areon being the dreaded mercenary. Then his resolve returned.
“Time for our third trial,” the Overlord said. “Time to end this charade and the reign of the Raider Prince.”
&nbs
p; The prince in question smiled.
Do your worst.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Prince.
The calayas exchanged looks. Finally, they’d know. Everyone would know. They didn’t doubt for a moment the Overlord had devised something to lift the cover of secrecy at last. He wouldn’t make a boast like that if he wasn’t damn sure of his success. The Overlord didn’t make empty promises.
Violet was afraid to know. She’d heard all of the rumors, of course she had. Of the twenty-something still standing, who was it? Was it Reim after all? For years, that had been the most prevailing opinion. Grom, like many speculated? Or someone faceless and in the shadows?
The only one all of them ruled out was Ronay – even Areon was still in consideration, with his damn demon luck.
She measured them all up against Areon. He was big and strong, like all of them were. With good fortune, he might live through the day, if he wasn’t paired with Grom – no luck won against the champion.
Please don’t be Grom, Violet thought. Please don’t be Grom.
“On the first day you proved your skills and courage,” said the Overlord. “Today, you showed endurance and wit against the gnaour. Now, it’s time to show your strength.”
Oh god, it’s the duels. Areon...
Her father’s voice was sharp as he went on. “I have told all of you, and no doubt the Prince knew this beforehand, I do not like to be mocked, especially by competitors in my tournament. So far, the Prince insists this is all a great joke to him. The proxy he sent to us. The way he hides his face instead of fighting under his real name like a man. The way he sends spies to my arena and helps his rivals as he sees fit. So far, the Prince has acted like this is his game. I’d like to remind him it is not. It is mine.”
Violet looked at the Overlord with wary expectation, watching with growing dread as he swept his gaze over the remaining champions.
“I would apologize for the gnaour, but if I felt sorry about them, I wouldn’t have made you fight them. I can, however, rid you of their stink and blood and wash the filth away, along with the lies.”
Another, transparent roof slid over the arena. The champions looked at it with quiet curiosity. Then the water started pouring in from the cracks in the walls. For one crazy moment Violet thought her father would kill the champions after all, for another, she thought she heard Areon laugh.
“Don’t worry,” the Overlord said, “I will not drown you. The water is to purify you. It will wash away the blood and the venom.”
She saw him grinning then. “And any color someone might have used to cover up his calaya mark.”
As the calayas watched along with everyone else, shocked, Pearl said: “Well, the Overlord did say he was going to flush him out. I just didn’t think he meant it so literally.”
Violet watched, her heart beating furiously in her chest, as the champions stayed still while the water kept pouring in. The pressure must have been something, for several leaned on their weapons to keep standing. One thing she noticed was that they kept a distance from each other. Soon the water would reveal the Raider Prince and knowing him, he would not be happy.
The transparent roof wasn’t too high up over their heads. Grom, the tallest, almost came up to it. There was no need to fill up any more of the arena than was absolutely necessary. Violet knew neither the Overlord nor the champions cared about the cleaning purpose of the water. The whole point of it all was to reveal the Prince at last.
Areon was looking at her with that peculiar smile again. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Violet would have put it down as mischievous and amused. She figured he might have thought the Overlord’s plan was good, which it was. So far, everyone had been trying to simply figure out the Prince’s identity, no one had thought to trap him so they could literally reveal him. Of course, no one could have before, not before the Prince walked into the trap voluntarily.
The water was up to their chests now. Violet laughed nervously under her breath when she noticed she was holding her breath along with the champions.
Areon gave her another grin and then they all took a deep breath. The water rose up over their heads. Violet could see the audience look for any sign of color in the water, but it was too murky. The champions were filthy and so was the arena. They’d see the Prince when the champions did.
The water reached the transparent roof, glittering in the evening light. Next to Violet, Maige was holding her breath too – they all were, to be honest. The trial was at its breaking point. With the Raider Prince on the arena, his beloved tricks robbed from him at last, anything could happen.
They stayed like that for so long that Violet started to think the champions might drown after all, but just then the water started to recede. Inch by agonizing inch, they watched first Grom and then the others appear from under the purifying surface.
They didn’t see him immediately.
The first thing they noticed as the water dropped fast down to the warriors’ knees and stopped there, was that not everyone had stayed in place. Grom was where he’d been before, most of them were.
In the middle of the arena, three men stood who hadn’t been there before. Reim being there didn’t surprise Violet in the slightest. Of course the Raider Prince’s second-in-command would join his lord. Ronay was more surprising – and she heard Maige’s shocked breath – but it was understandable as he possibly owed the Prince his life.
The third one stood with his head bowed, the water drops glinting on his skin in the evening rays – the Raider Prince.
He was stunning, in every sense of the word. Strong, lean muscles shining in the light, flexing as he chuckled. He stood in a relaxed battle stance, both of his powerful feet placed firmly on the ground, posed to accept any attack. The Prince’s head was bowed, the mess of dark brown hair falling over his eyes. The sword in his sure grip was ready as well. He exuded power, drawing every look to him simply by existing. It seemed to Violet like air itself made room for him to stand there, magnificent and unmatched. He made her mouth water in desire, bringing a guilty shame to her cheeks. She wasn’t supposed to –
The Prince was laughing, silently and then louder by each breath.
“Well done,” he said in a familiar, deep voice. “Very nice. I have to admit it’s been a while since someone surprised me. I expected nothing less from you, Overlord.”
As he looked up, Violet’s heart nearly stopped. The smirk on the Raider Prince’s lips was familiar, but the strand of ivory in Areon’s hair was not.
It was stupid. No, she was stupid. Babies learned to breathe the very second they came into life, so why was it suddenly so hard for her to remember how to do that. Violet gasped for air, her hands clutching the edge of the podium to stop herself from shaking apart.
Things that should have fallen into place quite a while ago stormed her brain. The last line of the Prince’s letter danced before her eyes: I hope you know where your heart lies. And Areon’s words in her ears: I’m glad your heart lies with me.
Oh god, she was an idiot. She just... She couldn’t...
Halley appeared beside her with a sympathetic smile. “I guess he didn’t have the chance to tell you?” she asked.
“I’m going to kill him,” Violet said, her voice shaking so violently she could hardly speak. “I want him to win now so I could kill him myself. Him, then Reim, then that proxy of his...”
“I hope I’m safe,” Halley said.
“I’ll deal with you as well,” Violet said, but her anger had no bite. Things had gone upside down and then upside down again. Her world was spinning wildly and she had no idea what to grasp on to.
Areon was the Raider Prince. Areon, the man who had made her laugh and who she had liked. The man she had fallen in love with. The Raider Prince had come to her tournament to win her hand, like he’d promised her three years ago. It was so good and so unbelievable at the same time that Violet kept waiting to wake up from a dream.
So many things suddenly
made sense to her – every happenstance, every little thing she’d written off as his luck, every miraculous escape. The incident? It brought a loud growl to Violet’s lips when she was forced to consider whether or not Areon’s fall had been accidental. Looking at him standing there with that demon grin on his lips, she was instantly certain it hadn’t.
Perhaps he heard her growl, but Areon looked up at her. No, the Raider Prince looked at Violet, a teasing smile on his lips.
She was going to kill him, or kiss him or rather vice versa. Maybe more kissing and more being in his amazing, strong arms, but she definitely was going to kill him too. She was starting to get why the Overlord hated being mocked.
The idea of her father brought her crashing back to reality. Violet’s eyes snapped from the arena to the high podium where the Overlord was eerily quiet. Everyone waited.
With all sorts of realizations hitting Violet one after another, she finally understood what was going on. The Overlord hated the Prince. During a tournament, all feuds were off, but it only applied to those who weren’t in the arena. Short of killing the champions, her father had his hands free to deal with Areon any way he could think of.
And he had twenty killers at his command to do his bidding, all of whom had just proven they had what it took to take down four gnaour – although Areon had done his share.
Violet ran in the absolute silence that had followed the astonished gasp of the audience. Down in the arena, no one moved, but that stillness was deceptive. Violet had watched them for two days, had watched warriors fight all her life, she knew how fast they could move if needed.
The Overlord gave her a heavy look.
“I’m sorry, Violet,” he said. No denial, no feigning ignorance.
“Don’t,” she said. It came out as a command and a plea all at once. Neither moved the Overlord.
“I can’t give up such a chance,” her father said. “And in truth, I don’t want to. He is no warrior. Not worthy of a calaya, certainly not worthy of you.”
