Page 172 of Bloodguard

I slow my pace to take every bit of it in before focusing on the arena. An orchestra tunes its instruments just to our right on a newly constructed platform, also decorated in white.

On the arena floor, eight large crates are arranged in a circle. My attention shifts to the royals on my left. Everyone there is either casting their bets or trying to guess what fresh torment they’re going to put the gladiators through today. Having been sequestered since Aisling’s disappearance last night, I haven’t learned a thing. But based on the size of those crates—my eyes widen when I glance down to see two of the boxes thrashing independently—these poor people are up for the torture session of their lives.

“Sit down,” Soro hisses.

For a moment, I picture gouging his eyes out with my bare hands, but I resist the temptation.

I sit, horrified by a glimpse of caged gladiators through the arched opening at the other end of the arena. I desperately wish I could do something—anything—to help them.

Soro empties his goblet down his throat. A servant appears and sets the contents of a brass container on fire while another sets a quiver full of arrows beside it. A third offers Soro a bow. He examines it carefully and pulls on the string. My attention jerks back to the boxes in the arena. What are these gladiators in for? And how many of them are mere civilians who will die for the crime of seeking refuge in our land?

These “royals” have poisoned my kingdom, and I don’t believe I can ever atone for my part in allowing it to happen.

The quieting of the crowd gives everyone around me pause. Their chanting begins low, building upon itself until it reaches a mighty crescendo, and everyone is on their feet.

“Bloodguard!”

“Bloodguard!”

Soro rises slowly beside me. I stand, too, whenLeithenters the arena and marches across the sand.

I cannot breathe or even form a coherent thought. Leith shouldn’t be here. Hecan’tbe here. I agreed to marry this despicable man beside me today and live a life without him so he wouldn’t ever have to enter this arena again.

So he wouldn’t die.

It takes a while for Leith to reach the area closest to the royal boxes, given the massive diameter of the arena, and I swear to the moon and stars my heartbeat stalls with every step he takes. No guards escorted him into the arena. No one commanded him here.

He’s here by choice.

His eyes meet mine, and I take my first full breath since he stepped onto the sand. My heart hammering so hard I fear it will break through my ribs, I place a hand over my chest. This warrior—the man I love—is here for a reason. He’s here forme.

“You,” Soro says.

“That’s right.Me,” Leith shouts back.

Soro’s body stiffens, and he scowls, clearly unhappy that the crowd is losing their collective selves at Leith’s presence. But then, Soro smiles.

Oh, mercy. I glance between them. All Soro has to do is find an excuse not to put Leith in the arena, but he’s too cocky for that.

“You made a blood oath that he would not be called into the arena to battle,” I say, panic causing my voice to come out thin and raspy.

Soro’s smile remains in place. “He was not called here.”

No, but he intends for Leith to die today regardless.

And Leith couldn’t give a damn.

“You think you call the shots? You think we fight foryou?” Leith says, his ire elevating each word to a credible threat. “Today,I’mthe one in charge.” His voice reverberates through the massive amphitheater as his gaze sears to mine. “Today, I fight for Maeve of Iamond, my queen.”

chapter 63

Leith

My gloves and boots are leather, my pants and shirt black, as I prefer. I’m here to fight on my terms. I’m here for the title, because so help me, I owe Maeve as much.

As the crowd settles, Soro raises his arms, his voice booming for what I intend to be the last time.

“Gladiator,” he calls.

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