Frostblood (Frostblood Saga #1)(67)
She shrugged. “The king’s choice.”
I drew the blade, testing its weight. It was well balanced and a good size for me, not too heavy.
“You’re a champion this time,” said Braka. “You greet the crowd with the others. It’s tradition.”
I followed the procession through the dim interior of the alcove, which must span the entire perimeter of the arena. In a few minutes, we were on the other side, where I had seen the procession come from the day before. Clustered around the opening were men with spears holding the reins of white horses, handlers wrestling with animals that pulled against their leashes, and fighters of all shapes and sizes, from ragged men and women in chains to warriors in shiny steel breastplates and helms.
The white-haired announcer made his way through our ranks and swept into the arena, striding to center stage. Today he wore embroidered cobalt robes lined with white fur, and his neck and fingers flashed with silver jewelry. He greeted the crowd much like he had the day before, reminding the people that they honored their king by cheering his champions and cursing his enemies. When he was finished speaking, spear-carrying warriors on horseback started the parade. The champions followed on foot, with me last. Behind us were the exotic animals and their sweating handlers.
Dust swirled from under our feet and danced in the sunlight. I found the king’s balcony, his white robes with gold trim glowing in the bright sun. His head swiveled, following my every step. In the periphery of my vision, I saw Marella in a turquoise gown. But my eyes kept returning to the king. Every time, it was harder to tear my attention away.
“We have a singular treat for the good citizens of Fors,” the announcer said. “A spectacle the likes of which you’ve never seen. Today our champions and challengers will be faced with an additional complication. Sizar, the rare and dangerous frost tiger, and Brux, the great bull and ancient mascot of the northern tribes, will also fight. And they care not if they slash or gore a champion or a challenger!”
He gestured to the animals with a wide smile. The tiger prowled back and forth, baring its teeth and snarling at the crowd. The bull snorted and pawed the ground, yanking against the yoke held by men on each side.
“One champion, one challenger,” said the announcer, “and two beasts in every match. If the beasts survive, they both go on to the next match. But only one man or woman, or perhaps only an animal, will leave the arena alive.”
The stands erupted in cheers and applause.
The blood had drained from my face. I trembled and leaned against a wooden pillar in the alcove, waiting for the world to stop spinning. People were going to have their throats ripped out for the enjoyment of the crowd. I wanted to push the announcer out of the way and rage at them.
“But before we bring out our champions, the animals look a bit hungry, don’t you think? Perhaps a couple of traitors will fill their bellies.”
The crowd roared again.
Two men in chains were pulled toward the arena. As they passed, I realized one looked familiar.
“Clay,” I breathed, hardly believing that it could be the butcher’s son, who had given me my first kiss, and who had told the soldiers I was a Fireblood, ending my life as I knew it.
It seemed like a hundred years since I’d seen him, but it was definitely Clay. He had a distinctively crooked nose, which he’d broken in a fight. I remembered how my mother had admonished him for not coming to her for healing sooner, before the bone had started to set.
I hesitated. I could let him walk into the arena and I’d never have to see him again. But he was from my village and no matter what he’d done, he was here in this awful place, same as me.
“Wait,” I said to the guard who held his chain. “Please, I know him.”
“Nobody cares, Firefilth. Get out of the way.”
Braka turned from where she spoke to one of the fighters and put her hands on her hips, leveling the guard with her stare. “One of the king’s champions made a request. You can spare a minute.”
The guard returned her stare, but he was the first to look away. “Only a minute.”
I nodded my thanks to Braka and stepped up beside Clay. He gave me a harsh look, but then his eyes widened. “Ruby?”
“What happened?” I asked flatly. “You were so helpful turning my mother and me over, but now they’re calling you a traitor.”
He shook his head, his eyes intense. “I didn’t mean to betray you or your mother.”
“Before or after you summoned the soldiers?”
“I didn’t,” he said urgently. “But once they were there, I had no choice. They threatened to kill us one by one if no one told them where the Fireblood lived. I don’t know how they knew about you.”
“You knew about me. It wasn’t hard to figure out I’m a Fireblood when… after you touched me. And I didn’t kill your brother. I tried to save him!”
“I know, but… I didn’t want to be branded a traitor. My family would have suffered—you know that. And I swear, they didn’t come because of me.”
“And yet here you are. What happened, Clay?”
The guard started to pull Clay forward.
“Listen, Ruby,” Clay whispered, leaning toward me and dragging his feet against the guard. “That day changed me. I couldn’t forget what happened to you. What I’d done. So I left the village and found other people who’ve had enough of the king’s cruelty. They’ve been gathering support for the past year.” He turned and spat on the ground. “That’s what I think of the Frost King who sits on the throne.”