Crush the King (Crown of Shards #3)(81)
Many spectators sported painted faces and were enthusiastically waving pennants featuring the colors and crests of their favorite troupes and gladiators. The merchants were already hawking their wares, their voices ringing together in a chorus of commerce. The smoky sizzle of frying bacon mingled with the buttery, sugary scents of freshly made cornucopia and other decadent treats. I soaked up as many of the sights, sounds, and smells as possible, especially since I didn’t know if I would actually live through the day.
Given my plans, I might not even make it until lunchtime.
Together, my friends and I headed toward the long tables that served as the registration area.
“This is where we leave you,” Cho said, then looked at Paloma. “Are you ready for this?”
As ringmaster, he was announcing the tournament, while Paloma was competing. Cho was wearing his red ringmaster’s jacket, while Paloma was dressed in light gray fighting leathers. She had a shield strapped to her forearm, and her mace was dangling from her belt.
“Of course I’m ready for this,” she said, then glanced at me. “Aren’t you going to wish me luck?”
“Luck is for fools and children,” I replied. “Isn’t that what you said to me in Xenia’s dance hall last week?”
She rolled her eyes at my teasing, but I reached out and squeezed her bare muscled arm.
“You don’t need luck,” I said. “You are going to go into the ring and show everyone that you’re not just the best gladiator in the Black Swan troupe or in Svalin, but that you are the best bloody gladiator in all the kingdoms. You are going to win, and you are going to look fierce and fabulous doing it.”
A grin slowly spread across Paloma’s face. “Queen Everleigh is getting pretty good at giving inspiring speeches.”
I grinned back at her. “Well, I’m glad you think that I’m finally getting good at something.”
She smiled at me a moment longer, then her face turned serious, and she stabbed her finger at me. “You’d better not die while I’m fighting, and you’d better be here to see me win.”
“I won’t, and I will. Promise.”
Paloma and Cho headed over to the tables. Sullivan, Serilda, Auster, and I headed into the arena, with Leonidas sandwiched in the middle of us and the Bellonan guards.
We threaded our way through the crowd and climbed the bleacher steps to the royal terrace. Dozens of minor royals, nobles, advisors, and others were already milling around, laughing, gossiping, and enjoying refreshments. Driscol was speaking with a servant, while Seraphine was standing by his side, another blank smile on her face.
Eon, Ruri, Cisco, Zariza, Heinrich. All the other kings and queens were already here, including Maximus, and I was the last to arrive. Good. I wanted everyone to see my special guest.
Maximus turned toward our group, a sneering smile on his face. I didn’t know what he had hoped or expected to see, but it definitely wasn’t Leonidas standing next to me, and Maximus’s smile vanished like a snowman melting in the sun. Maeven also turned around, wondering what her brother was staring at, and she stiffened in surprise. So did Nox, who was standing next to her. Mercer wasn’t here, since he was competing in the tournament.
I ignored the Mortans and made a slow circuit around the terrace, greeting the other royals. Eon and Ruri were polite, Cisco was cold and dismissive, and Heinrich and Zariza were warm and welcoming. Nothing had changed from last night, including how angry Maximus was, anger that grew with every second I ignored him. Even though the scent of his hot, peppery anger burned my nose, I breathed it in over and over again.
I did so love the smell of my enemy’s impotent rage.
Finally, I deigned to walk over to Maximus. Nox stepped up beside his uncle, but Maeven hovered a few feet away, as did Driscol and Seraphine.
“Hello, Maximus,” I purred. “Isn’t it a fine morning?”
He stared at me, and I smiled back, as if it were perfectly natural for his bastard nephew to be a part of my contingent. Everyone else had noticed Leonidas trailing along behind me, and whispers were already swirling about what I was doing with the boy.
Maximus frowned, clearly not understanding what I hoped to gain, but he couldn’t contain his curiosity. “Is there a problem?”
I frowned back at him, as though I were puzzled. “Problem? Why would there be a problem?”
He gestured at Leonidas, who was standing behind me, right in between Sullivan and Captain Auster. “It seems as though you have my nephew in your custody.”
“Leonidas? In my custody?” I laughed. “You make it sound like he’s my prisoner. Quite the contrary.”
“What do you mean?” Maximus asked in a suspicious voice. “Has something unpleasant happened?”
There was that damn word again, but I waved my hand. “Oh, some assassins infiltrated the Bellonan camp last night and tried to kill me, but of course they didn’t succeed.”
“Yes, I can see that,” Maximus muttered, shooting a nasty look at Driscol, who visibly paled.
The Mortan king faced me again. “But that still doesn’t explain what you’re doing with my nephew. We were all quite concerned when we couldn’t find him in our camp this morning.”
I had to give him credit for saying the lie with a straight face, but Maximus had just given me the perfect opening to spin my own tale. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Leonidas and his actions last night.”