Page 91 of A Pact of Blood

I have no doubt that if her neck was on the line, all thoughts of “friendship” would fly out the window. But I’ll accept the overture, however calculated it might be. “I’m glad you’ve come to see things that way. I wish my presence hadn’t come at such expense.”

Her jaw tightens, presumably with the thought of her own lost friend. “Yes. You’d save us all if you could, wouldn’t you?”

Before I can decide what to make of that ambiguous remark, louder cheers roar from all around the stands. Today’s warriors are striding out from the ground-level doorways at the edges of the arena.

Raul is among them. I’m not surprised, but my heart squeezes for the moment I let my gaze linger on his brawny frame. His mouth is set in a cocky grin, and he whirls his blade in a showy circle, all confidence.

Then a gleam of white-blond hair catches my eyes as it emerges from a far doorway, and my gut plummets.

Prince Neven is striding out onto the sand-strewn earth, his expression rigid and a mace clenched in one hand.

I turn to Marclinus with an arch of one eyebrow, suppressing my queasiness. “You decided to bring an untried teenage prince into the mix?”

I keep my tone dry, as if I find the matter bemusing rather than horrifying.

Marclinus smirks. “He begged for the chance. Why not two princes rather than one? The audience loves it. He’ll have easier opponents for his first time. The last thing I need is a second revolt on my hands, hmm?”

He doesn’t sound as if he’s taking the possibility of the prince’s death all that seriously.

As he stands up to welcome the crowd and encourage their enthusiasm, my attention slides back to Raul. His stance has stiffened as he stares across the arena toward his younger foster brother.

Neven didn’t mention his intentions to the other princes, clearly. What is the kid thinking?

Maybe it’s a momentary impulse driven by the need to prove himself, and after he’s conquered the arena once, that’ll be enough for him.

Assuming that my husband has judged Neven’s abilities correctly and hewillconquer whatever’s thrown at him here today.

As with the earlier exhibition, this one starts with the warriors facing off against each other in pairs. After the first few blows, I’m as relieved as I can be to see that Neven has been pitted against a man of similar size whose movements look a bit clumsy.

Out of all the skirmishes, Neven manages to heave his opponent to the ground first. When he looms over the other man, shoving him harder into the ground with a booted foot on the chest, Marclinus leaps up.

“Let’s have a proper ending!” he hollers into his amplification charm, which carries his voice through the whole arena. “Claim yourself some bloody triumph, Prince of Goric!”

Neven has watched enough of these exhibitions to know what his emperor means. He hesitates for a split-second and then drives his sword straight into his opponent’s neck.

Bile rises in my throat. Is that the first time the teenaged prince has killed a human being? As part of an imperial spectacle, with a horde of Darium citizens whooping and stomping their feet in approval?

I can’t even begin to conceive what that would do to a person, let alone one little more than a boy.

Raul finishes his own opponent off without need for encouragement, though I notice he makes it quick and clean rather than some of the more brutal executions carried out by the other warriors. I sink into my seat, knowing the second part of the exhibition should be less fraught. The animals are dangerous, but far more predictable than a fellow human being.

As with the person-to-person matches, the beast released near Neven is a smallish leopard that doesn’t look as if it’ll prove much of a challenge. With powerful efficiency, Raul faces off against a hulking tusked boar.

I have a suspicion he wants to finish this particular performance even faster than usual so he can go give the younger prince a piece of his mind.

When all the animals have fallen and four of the warriors are left standing, my stomach’s churning starts to settle. The spectacle is awful, but it’s over. Now all that’s left is?—

Marclinus’s jaunty voice breaks through my thoughts. “Hold there, Prince Raul. You’re going to be the star of our show this afternoon.”

My gaze jerks up. Raul is just coming to a halt where he was heading toward one of the doorways like his fellow warriors. He stares up at Marclinus warily, his massive frame tensing all over again.

Whatever my husband is up to, the prince wasn’t prepared for it.

I will my expression to stay carefully blank. Any concern I reveal might incite Marclinus further.

He does glance down at me briefly before going on. “Some of my foster brother’s countrymen have disgraced themselves before the empire, throwing the good we’ve done for them in our faces. I’m sure the prince of Lavira would be more than happy to demonstrate how valiantly he’ll fight foruswhen called on.”

Raul gives his emperor a salute that might contain a trace of the crude gesture I’d imagine he’d rather be making.

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