Page 18 of Rise of a Fallen Man

Of an average height and size for a woman, she looked tiny compared to the gladiators. Yet she didn’t need a size advantage over the men for them to do as she said. Her words lashed harder than a whip.

“You two. On the rink. Now.” She snapped her fingers and flicked her wrist at the oval rink roped off in the middle of the courtyard.

Packed with dirt and sawdust, the rink was smaller than the Royal Gladiator’s Arena, but it had the same shape and proportions. We’d used it to practice our formations that morning. And now, Lerrel wagged her finger between Falo and me.

“Whatever is going on between you two, get on the rink and work it out. Now.”

Cursing under his breath, Falo stomped over to the rope stretched between the low poles that marked the rink.

I tossed a wistful glance at the succulent ribs on my plate and my uneaten slice of bread before following him. My emptystomach spasmed in protest, but no one seemed to dare disobey the games master, and I wasn’t going to be the one to set that example.

Judging by Lerrel’s clothes, she was a Roamer from the traveling tribes. Roamers were notorious for their street fighting skills, but Lerrel had made a career out of it, rising all the way to the Games Master of the Royal Gladiators.

She was dressed in a frilly, colorful skirt and a sleeveless blouse with flowery embroidery in the front. Her black, thick curls were cut to just above her shoulders and held away from her face with a red scarf tied around her head. With her hands propped on her hips and her dark eyes narrowed at us, she watched closely as Falo and I stepped over the rope and got into the rink.

Falo spat on the ground. “Lady Gem doesn’t give a fuck about you, Raeb. Don’t you imagine even for a moment that you’re her boy now just because she put a word in for you on a whim.”

I shrugged. Lady Gem spoke to me for the first time ever just a day ago. She’d talked through her teeth, avoiding eye contact and clearly hating every minute spent in the same room with me. She might’ve given me the official reference, but I had a strong feeling she wasn’t really the one behind my sudden rise from a slave to a gladiator.

As Lady Gem had reluctantly explained, there might be a murder accusation looming over my head. She also had made it clear that becoming a gladiator might shield me from my past catching up with me if I remained a slave. It seemed I had a high-standing benefactor who was concerned about my safety, but it couldn’t be Lady Gem. Princess Aniri was the only one who’d shown me any kindness lately, and I believed it had been her idea all along. There simply wasn’t anyone else who would care about me or my future.

With his fists raised, Falo circled me, and I rotated to keep facing him.

“Stay away from the lady chamberlain,” he snarled.

“Gladly.”

But he was too wound up to listen to reason. Launching forward, fast like lightning, Falo executed a maneuver I’d never seen before, slamming his fist into my ribs.

“Slow like molasses,” he gloated. “You’re a waste as a gladiator. You may’ve gotten here by giving Lady Gem a satisfying fuck or two, but that’s as far as you’ll go.”

He kept jumping around me, searching for another chance to strike. His leaping around proved disorienting, giving me a headache.

“What are the rules?” I asked.

“There are no rules, you oaf,” he spat out.

Lerrel grabbed a roasted rib from Falo’s plate and ate it with her foot propped on the bench.

“The rules are no killing your opponent and no broken bones on the training rink,” she said between the bites. “Save the real stuff for the arena.”

That was good to know, since I’d broken a man’s arm in my last fight. It hadn’t been intentional. I’d grabbed his wrist, and when he’d jerked one way, I’d pulled in the other. The bone had snapped.

That day, we worked on fixing a giant pothole in the road leading to the palace. A few wagons passed by, and I recognized one as Traeh’s. I should’ve just let her pass. But I hadn’t seen Traeh for years and didn’t give it a second thought, running up to her to say hi.

“Traeh, it’s me, Salas. How have you been?”

She squinted at me, her hand pressed to her chest. “Salas? Is that really you?”

She didn’t recognize me, unsurprisingly so. I hardly recognized myself when I had a chance to look in a mirror. I’d grown wider and rougher since my days at the fun house. I’d also stopped shaving, letting my beard grow.

Seven years had passed since I saw her last. Her face, however, held the mark of sorrows worth far more than just seven years.

We chatted briefly. Erif had survived the fire but died five years later, succumbing to the aftermath of the injuries he’d gotten that night. All the other men who’d worked for Traeh had found positions in other fun houses.

“You’re the only one who never went back,” Traeh said.

“Pure luck and a lie helped me get away.”

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