Page 27 of Rise of a Fallen Man

The games master rushed to us.

“Princess Aniri! Lady Chamberlain! It’s an honor to see you at our small soiree.” She gave me a deep bow. “It’s such a rare treat to welcome you into our humble quarters, Your Highness.”

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” I replied mechanically, searching through the people in the room with my gaze.

Salas wasn’t here. The tight string of worry inside me vibrated more urgently. I had to know how he was. I needed to see him.

Falo rose from one of the couches and sauntered to us. After a polite but brief greeting to me, he grinned at Gem.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Lady Chamberlain.” He took her hand in both of his. “I have your favorite tea served already.” He gestured at the low table set with tea by the couch.

“Aww, aren’t you the sweetest?” she cooed, letting him whisk her over to the couch and leaving me with the games master.

“The show was great today,” I said, clearing my throat.

The games master’s smile grew wider.

“Thank you, Your Highness. We do our best every week. But today was special. The crowd simply went wild with delight. It’s so rewarding when that happens.”

I could no longer put off the one and only thing I’d come here for.

“Master, how are the gladiators doing after today’s games?”

“Oh, everyone is fine,” she assured me confidently. “My boys are highly trained. They’re used to pulling off miracles in the arena and escaping the most dangerous situations unscathed.”

The image of blood dripping down Salas’s arm was too vivid in my mind to believe her reassurances.

I couldn’t keep beating around the bush anymore and asked directly, “The new gladiator got hurt today. How is he?”

“You mean our wild Mountain Bear? Oh, it was just a scratch,” she dismissed with a sly smile. “Nothing that small could bring that beast down. Trust me.”

The only thing I’d trust right now would be seeing Salas alive and well.

“Why is he not here tonight, then?”

“Right.” She twirled between her fingers the fringed end of the scarf tied around her head. “He’s with our healing witch. We treat even minor injuries with the utmost care.”

That felt reassuring. At least Salas was getting the care he needed.

“Did you plan for the bear to attack him today?” I asked. “Was it in the script?”

The games master huffed in offense.

“We don’t have a script, Your Highness. Everything that happens in the arena is genuine and spontaneous.” She winked at me. “That’s how I always answer these kinds of questions. Why strip magic from the show that so many people enjoy?”

“All right, but that gladiator—”

She glanced behind me. “And there he is. The man of the hour!”

I spun around to find Salas standing in the doorway. He was still wearing his costume, only his helmet was gone, and instead of the bear hide, a hunter-green dressing robe was draped over his wide shoulders. His arms weren’t in the robe’s sleeves. A thick white bandage on his left arm peeked from under the jacquard fabric of the robe.

His eyes found mine.

And time froze.

Here, outside of the arena, he no longer appeared like a feral beast or a stranger. He looked like the Salas I knew. Directed at me, his brown eyes filled with the familiar warmth—the expression I’d grown to like so much. A gentle smile played on his lips, partially hidden in the deliberately disheveled beard.

Relief flooded me in a tingling wave. They hadn’t changed him. He was still him.

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