Page 36 of The Sun God's Prize
Such dichotomy, Remalla.
There’s a large structure ahead, curved but open to the sun like the Dome of Women, if massive in comparison, so much so that we’re still a long way from it and it already dominates the view, towering over the golden city beneath it, squatting like a benevolent giant in the fading sun.Here, everything is decorated with gold, though I doubt it’s real, likely some trick of paint or light.Then again, for all I know, the Sun God really is that excessive and extravagant.
Were this Heald, the populace would have scraped the value from every crevice by now and laughed at my mother for her ridiculous choice in the process.They honored her, yes, but this level of waste would have had her run out of Heald with her braids shorn from her head and her swords broken in dishonor.
We’re noticed as we rumble past, and when the first young man rushes forward, throwing something at the cage, I’m half-standing, reaching for a sword I don’t have access to, the habit of arming myself at the sight of a threat impossible to break.
Brem pulls me down as Kasha catches the bouquet of flowers, making a big deal of smelling them before blowing the young man a kiss.He swoons into his friends, who all laugh and wave, and then we’re past them, more bunches of colorful, fragrant blossoms begin to rain down on us from overhead as well as from eager watchers on the street.
“They’re excited to see us fight,” Brem assures me with an easy grin, taking a flower herself from a brave woman who rushes forward and presses it against the cage.My friend sniffs it before offering the full, purple bloom to me.It’s sweet, almost cloyingly so, the pollen making my nose tickle.“We’ll gain many favors over the next few days.”She shrugs.“As long as we…”
Live.She doesn’t finish that because it’s an unspoken truth.All of the training and fighting and laughter, the mock battles and competitions we’ve endured against the few stables who’ve come to fight us, are only preparation for what’s really coming.
Death.Death is coming, and probably for many of the women I’ve come to call my family.It’s no different than riding into battle, from the uncertainty of war.I’ve done so year after year, campaign seemingly unending, lost friends and soldiers and whole companies to ensure victory.This feels unlike riding off under the banner of Heald, though.My army is so small, and each of them must stand alone, in the end.
I can’t dwell on it.It’s too painful to contemplate.And while it means I’m softer of heart, weaker in emotion if not in body than I was at the beginning of this whole adventure I find myself on, I don’t mind so much if it means I’m turning into someone worthy of the fate I’m told awaits me.
All I can do is fight.Death will not claim me, not here.
I willnotallow it.But it does mean that it’s time to step up and claim my truth to ensure the best chance I have at winning.
I’m thinking about how best to approach that idea when we ride through gates into the massive arena, the layout uninspiringly similar to our own, if on a vast scale.I can see there are tiers of fighting quarters, other warriors lining the balconies of the residential section on the far right, watching us as we pull in.This place must house hundreds, and the arena itself will seat thousands, the size finally shutting down my ability to think as I look up and around and realize that I’ve underestimated the intimidation after all.
But not of the city itself.Of the thought of stepping out into that sandy arena under the scrutiny of all of the people who will fill the benches with their screaming, cheering and booing, and I shudder at the very idea.
Brem’s hand squeezes mine, nodding to me silently when I meet her eyes.She knows, she feels it, too, even if it’s clear to me she’s been here before.
And survived.We don’t all have to die, but they will have to concede or be spared to fight another day.I have no idea what to expect and brace myself for far too much loss, just like riding to war.
“You’re going to shine like a star,” Brem says to me, voice cracking a little as she blinks tears.“They’ll love you, Remi.”
They will.I must make sure of it.
Before we’re even stopped, I’m on my feet, heading for the end of the wagon and the cage’s exit.Romouth raises an eyebrow at me when I nod to her.
“I need to speak to you,mistresse,” I say.
She leads me with her while the others are guided to the residences, Brem hesitant but going with the others while I stand in the shade of the massive walls and address Romouth.
“I haven’t been completely honest,” I say.“There are truths in my past that might be of use to us here.”
“You’re a soldier,” she says.“But more than that.I’m aware.You were a general, then, of the Healdian army?”
I shake my head at her, jaw aching from clenching my jaw.“I am Remalla, the War Queen’s daughter, true heir to the throne of Heald, and if they want a show, I’ll fucking give it to them.”
***
Chapter Eighteen
I find myself in her private quarters, led rapidly and silently away from the tunnel to the animals’ housing, up two flights of stairs, and through a carved doorway that matches the one she has at the Dome of Women.I barely have time to register the luxe interior, the young woman who bows her way out when Romouth shoos her away, how I’m led by mymistresse’s firm grip on my wrist, through a wide, cushion-strewn room, and past another archway.This is an office of some kind, with a large desk curving along the inner wall, heavy tapestries of purple and gold hanging from the tall ceilings to the matching rug on the floor.
She finally releases me when we hit the center of the room, though she carries on, leaning out the window overlooking the street below, inhaling a long breath while the breeze from this height cools my heated cheeks.
“Remalla,” she says.“You’re the fucking War Queen’s daughter.”She turns to face me, eyes narrowed.“You do know she’s a legend here, Jhanette of Heald?”She’s said as much to me, which is part of my reasoning for telling her now.If I can leverage that bit of notoriety, lean into my foreign blood, perhaps it will be easier to gain notice for my skills.“Do you know that she’s the only warrior to ever fight off the legion of the Sun God at the border?”I shake my head, but Romouth doesn’t notice.“She personally—her blades alone—kept a line of warriors from crossing the pass at Wernuth, held the bridge for a full day without flagging, so her army could reach her.”I’m speechless and still as she finishes, tossing her hands with a stunned expression.“You’re the fuckingWar Queen’s daughter.”She’s breathless and shaking her head, and laughing brokenly at the same time.“How are youhere?”
“You believe me,” I say.I’m surprised by that.I thought I’d have to convince her.
She exhales a long breath, hands shaking when she runs them through her long, dark hair, as silken as mine, as Mother’s was.“I do,” she says.“I’ve known since the moment you took that girl down in the market, since your throw of a blade that killed the captain.Not specifically, but I knew you were no ordinarygladatte.”Romouth looks ill, vaguely green, but catches herself with a wave at me when I sway toward her in concern.“What do you want to do?”
