Page 29 of The Sun God's Prize
Why does that simple query make me choke?I force down my last swallow and answer, voice thick.“She died in battle,” I say, “as it should be.”
They both murmur agreement, these two women my mother would have broken bread with herself, given the chance.
Romouth had welcomed me home, last night.Is it wrong that I feel like she knew what she was talking about?
“There is an exhibition match in two days’ time,” Romouth says.“A trial to test you against another arena.”She doesn’t sound concerned.If anything, she’s eager.“I hope you’ll show the same talent then as you have today.”Themistresserises without waiting for my assurance and leaves us, taking her cup with her, heading for her quarters while I watch her go.
“This will be fun,” Brem chortles, taking the last piece of bread.When she splits it and offers me half, I’m surprised and honored and accept it, though I’m stuffed already, nibbling as she goes on, eyes bright.“We’ll be facing the Dome of Death from Cheseco.”Her grin has me smiling back, even if I don’t know why she’s excited.“Theirmasterre, Noloc, is an asshole, andmistressehates his foul guts.”
“Then, by all means,” I say, “let’s fuck his shit up.”
Brem laughs and bumps me with her shoulder.
It’s not until the sun is fading and our next meal is over that, exhausted but satisfied, I accept that I’m making progress.As frustrating as it is to feel any kind of weakness, I’ve done what I can for today, no weaker than I would be after a long campaign of low rations and too much fighting.
It will do, and I’ll only get stronger from here.
That part of my plan moving in the right direction, I march back to the armorer and enter, spotting Prenese hunched over her bench, muttering to herself, working on something.I’m storming over to her, ready to force her to listen, when she looks up and sees me coming.
She lurches toward me like a woman with intent, grasping me and jerking me toward the bench, too, standing me in place, hands busy on my garments.
“I need to talk to you about my armor,” I say, batting at her while she spins me and starts unlacing the vest, stripping me bare, and then turning me around again.“Prenese, listen to me.”She’s saying something under her breath, tossing the pieces as she unwinds them, my biceps sighing when they’re freed, as does my stomach, though I’ve come to appreciate the tightness of the bindings and realize she’d somehow known where my weaknesses were.
That stops me in my attempted complaints as I stare down at her.She’s squinched her face into a scowl while she mutters and mutters.
“How did you know where I needed support?”I try to stop her from stripping the leather bottoms away, but now I’m fully naked, and she’s turning away from me, reaching for something that she holds up to me.
When I look down, I realize what she’s done.What she’s made.And I gasp at it.Not the armor I’m used to, the fitted full-body leather that usually sheathes me from head to toe, knee-high, steel-studded boots, and full belt and tall-collar fastened to my chin, all fitted to me so well that I can sleep in it and feel rested.No, not that, far too heavy for this climate.
But her equivalent of what I need?Yes, this I can work with.Thin of grain, but carefully crafted, the edges curved and flattened, somehow bonded to a depth that I know won’t chafe, metal studs hammered to a polished sheen where the pieces connect.It’s still short in the leg, but this set comes to my mid-thigh, and while there’s a gap in the midriff, it’s decorative, my sides covered fully, the gap enough for a flash of flesh rather than an invitation to stab.It’s not ideal, no, but perhaps it suits this arena far more than my armor would.
“Test and test and try and see,” she whispers, “still not perfect, Prenese, not perfect, but it will be.”She backs away, ignoring me completely, leaving me to find my tunic and dress myself, but with more faith in her than I had before.
I will trust, even if, as with much these days, I don’t understand.
***
Chapter Fourteen
My life is training, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.The rich food and available rest helps, as do the offers of massage that the two young women provide, their strong hands probing deeply into my tired and aching muscles at the end of each day, long soaks in the shallow pool proving an amazing place to recover, thanks to the copious amounts of salt added to it.So much so that I’m far more buoyant than expected, floating lazily on the warm surface as though suspended on a cloud, at times drifting off into sleep only to wake when my toes bump into the side.
Most of the fighters keep their distance when we’re not in the arena, and there, too, though Morinthi and Hloraine tentatively join me for meals, waiting for Brem’s approval before doing so.
The small woman who leads this stable speaks no further of her history, and I don’t pry, because my own isn’t for sharing, either, nor are my plans to free myself of this place at the first chance I have.The dragon’s voice has gone quiet, even when I try to speak to her, so my need to do just that grows to anxiety by the time my first event opens on my third day here at the Dome of Women.
The unimaginative names they use for their stables made me snort at first, though at least the Dome of Death fighters who parade into the packed arena shortly after noon to an excited and cheering crowd appear to match their name as much as we do ours.The men who bear their arms into the arena, grim-faced and aggressive, all wear tattoos on their faces that look like skulls.
“It’s just makeup,” Brem tells me with enough cynical amusement that I’m no longer impressed.“Honestly, I could take them all myself if I were allowed to.Enough muscle in the group to smother their minds, if you get my meaning.”
I do, very much so, and now my hopes are high, even if I can’t afford to go into this battle with anything but the determination I always feel for victory.
I was wrong, though, about their armor, the men as artfully and ridiculously outfitted as the women, with fancy bits and bobbles of leather barely covering their dicks, let alone protecting them from harm.The Sunnish are equal in their opportunities to humiliate and costume then for allgladatte.
At least Prenese has come through for me, her attention to the details of my costume making it much less decorative and further along the spectrum to actual armor.It will never protect me the way my own always has, but at least I don’t feel naked and exposed, even if she’s carefully crafted it to show off the round of my breasts through the low-cut of the neckline.
It took me far too long—and cost me aching arms that challenge my recovery—to braid my hair in the early morning.It’s long past due time to cut a good foot from it, if not more.But when I tried to bind it all, Brem appeared at my door and shook her head with her own uncovered and only the top section plaited, the rest of hers hung around her like a cloak.
There would be no scarf for her hair and face today.
