Page 17 of Bloodguard

Of course I’m upset. I have no power. No way to free my father. No right to even visit him, to see with my own eyes that he’s okay. And what happened today in that arena— “Neela, there was only one survivor in the match I watched. All ten gladiators were forced to fight at once, with only one winner in the end.”

She sighs. “General Soro is cruel.”

My uncle might sit on the throne and rule in my stead, but in doing so, he allowed Soro to rise to High General of Arrow. And the general has final say on all matches in the arena games.

“But I think Vitor is in on it, too,” I tell her.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“Aisling was all too happy to share that Vitor has been killing fighters about to be crowned Bloodguard. She said he doesn’t much care for allowing gladiators he hasn’t sponsored to win.”

Neelatsks. “The High Lord has always been a fair man, Maeve. That doesn’t sound like him at all.” She smooths her hands down her apron as her gaze focuses in the direction of the arena. “Although…I have heard the odds have been favoring the Commons lately. And you know how the Middling hates to see a commoner rise in rank.”

“Almost as much as the nobles hate for someone to jointheirrank, I’d imagine.” I frown, realizing Aisling might have been right. “Between the dragon and the surprise melee combat, I must wonder if Soro intendedanyoneto walk out of that match today, favored or not.”

Neela plucks a speck of fuzz from the ends of my hair, her opinions clear in the silence.

“Life should not be wagered for sport,” I mutter.

“It wasn’t always like this,” Neela tries to soothe, but her words only make my stomach twist more. She means the fights weren’t to the deathbefore Papa struck down my grandmother.

“I’m going to the garden,” I announce abruptly.“Father has gone to fetch a gladiator. He’s hurt and needs my herbs to heal him.”

Her eyes darkenas she stares at me.“Be careful, child,” she says. “Gladiators are not soft—or easy to win over.”

She knows me too well.

“I mean it, Maeve,” Neela says, her crackly voice stern. “They break those fighters down until they have nothing left to lose—and that makes them more dangerous than evenyoucan realize.”

As I head toward the back stairs, I toss over my shoulder the absolute truth.“That’sexactlywhat I’m counting on.”

chapter 8

Leith

Considering I was summoned to screw Jakeb’s daughter, her staff has stuffed me dangerously close to exploding. I’m sitting alone in a small cottage away from the main house, waiting for the woman in question to appear. And waiting. And waiting some more.

I look out the only window to a garden filled with wildflowers and greens, their stems stretching tall and proud in spite of the wind. For reasons I can’t explain, they remind me of the brown-haired elf from earlier. Defiance, maybe…something about sheer force of will. Or I just want an excuse to remember the first pretty face I’ve noticed in a while. A rusty laugh builds in my chest as I recall her reaction to Lord Peacock’s untimely demise. Hell, maybe I’ll even imagine her face tonight while I’m screwing whatever royal is beneath me.

The manor is a good distance away across the garden, which means whoever is coming for me probably likes to scream and yell all night, then continue the facade of a good, chaste royal when she leaves in the morning. Whatever. Coin is coin.

The dwelling holds no bed, only a large kitchen featuring a hand-pumped sink and a rack of strange, colorful spices, with a fireplace in one corner and a large empty bathtub in the other.

This is a strange place for sex, but I’ve seen stranger.

Two servants sweep up the remains of the meal they served an hour ago—a full loaf of bread, savory braised lamb, and perfectly crisp rosemary potatoes. The portions were enormous—enough to feed my whole family and then some—and it was a struggle to pace myself so I didn’t get sick. It almost physically hurts to watch them carry the leftovers away.

Then they start filling the large tub with buckets of hot water they carry in from outside.

I cock my head when I see steam rise from the water.A hot bath. Nice.

I look outside again, wondering when Jakeb’s daughter intends to show up, but all I find is some stable hand crouched in the garden just below my window. They set down a basket of berries, back to me and hood tucked over their head. The servant offers the fruit to a small group of estrellas who raced from where they were playing in the garden.

“Neela’s coming soon, and I’ll bet she brings dessert,” they tell the small creatures.

That must be the daughter of the manor, I surmise, swooping in after the real work is done. Royal women are obsessed with those puffy motherfuckers—treat ’em nicer than they ever deigned to handle me, that’s for sure.

This “Neela” is taking her sweet time, though. Or…is she waiting for me to bathe first? No, I must be given permission to use anything in a noble’s home, even the damn chair I’m sitting on. It’s the only reason I’m not already enjoying a hot bath.

---