Crush the King (Crown of Shards #3)(112)
Seeing, sensing, feeling that love made the butterflies in my stomach finally, fully evaporate. I dipped into the traditional Bellonan curtsy, trying to show them all how deeply I respected them and how very much their friendship had meant to me over this past year.
Then I straightened, left my friends behind, and headed into the arena.
Cho was the only one who came with me. The others were going up to the royal terrace to keep an eye on Mercer, Nox, and Maeven. Maximus might have to finally face me himself, but I wouldn’t put it past the king to order his other relatives to try to assassinate Heinrich, Zariza, or another royal during the bout. Today wasn’t just about my winning—it was also about keeping our allies safe.
Cho and I stopped in the shadows that filled the archway, and I stared out at the spectacle.
I had always thought the Black Swan arena was massive, but the Pinnaculum easily dwarfed it. Thousands upon thousands of people were packed into the arena, and every available seat was taken. Those who hadn’t been able to get a seat had lined up along the wall that circled the arena floor, as well as the one that cordoned off the very top of the structure.
Vendors carrying wooden trays filled with bags of cornucopia, cups of flavored ices, and other sweet and savory treats were hustling up and down the bleacher steps as fast as they could, desperately trying to make a few last sales before the battle royale began. Above the conversations, I could hear the distinctive clink-clink-clink of coins changing hands as people bet on the outcome. The sound was strangely comforting and reminded me of my first black-ring match against Emilie. I had given Serilda some gold crowns this morning and told her to make a bet for me. We’d see whether or not it would pay off.
“You’re going to do fine, Evie,” Cho said. “No, wait. Scratch that. You’re going to go out there, and you’re going to kick Maximus’s ass. For everyone in Bellona and beyond that he’s ever hurt. And then you’re going to kill the bastard.”
I smiled at him, and he winked back at me, as did the dragon on his neck.
“All right, then,” Cho murmured, his black eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Let’s start the show.”
He straightened the sleeves on his red jacket, then squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and stepped out into the arena.
The crowd erupted into cheers at the sight of him, and Cho raised his hand, smiling, waving, and playing the part of the ringmaster to perfection. I stayed in the shadows, shifting on my feet and trying not to notice how sweaty my palm was against the hilt of my sword.
Cho waved to the crowd again, then held up his hands, asking for silence.
“Welcome, lords and ladies, high and low!” His voice boomed out. “I know you thought yesterday’s Tournament of Champions was the highlight of the Regalia, but we have an even better, bloodier treat today! A black-ring match between two royals!”
The crowd roared again, although they quickly quieted down. No one wanted to miss a word.
Cho looked across the arena at the archway opposite mine. “And now, introducing the king of Morta, His Royal Majesty Maximus Mercer Morland Morricone!”
For a moment, nothing happened, and I didn’t see anyone lurking in the shadows. Then a figure strode forward.
Maximus was also dressed in fighting leathers—a sleeveless shirt, a knee-length kilt, and sandals—all done in a midnight-purple that was so dark it almost looked black. He was holding a sword that seemed to be made of pure gold, given how the weapon gleamed in the noon sun. He wasn’t carrying a shield, and his face hadn’t been painted like mine, but his glorious mane of golden hair was perfectly brushed and styled and gleamed almost as brightly as his sword did.
The crowd surged to its feet and roared, and Maximus held his arms out wide, just like Mercer had, further inviting the people to cheer, yell, scream, clap, and whistle. The applause went on and on and on, with Maximus smiling the whole time.
Finally, the Mortan king stepped into the ring in the center of the arena. The wood was painted a dull, flat black, signaling that this fight would be to the death.
The crowd slowly quieted, although tension and excitement filled the air.
“And now,” Cho’s voice boomed out again, “introducing the queen of Bellona, Her Royal Majesty Everleigh Saffira Winter Blair!”
I drew in a breath and let it out, knowing that this was perhaps the last—and most important—fight of my life. So I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin, and plastered a smile on my face. Then I stepped out of the tunnel and strode forward.
Showtime.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The second I appeared, the crowd erupted into cheers, yells, claps, screams, and whistles again. The atmosphere for a black-ring match at the Black Swan arena had been loud and raucous, but the noise here was deafening, and the overwhelming sound felt like a wave pushing against my body, trying to shove me back into the archway.
Unlike Maximus, I didn’t preen, hold my arms out, and play to the crowd. I didn’t need their applause. I only needed him bloody, broken, and dead at my feet. That would be satisfaction enough for me.
I crossed the arena floor and stepped into the black ring. The crowd continued to cheer, and Cho held up his hands, calling for quiet, although most people kept right on screaming. While he got the crowd under control, I looked up at the royal terrace.
Eon, Ruri, Cisco, Heinrich, Zariza. All the other kings and queens were gathered there, surrounded by their regular entourages, along with scores of guards. The other royals weren’t taking any chances with their own safety. Good.