Crush the King (Crown of Shards #3)(83)
Cho announced Mercer’s opponent, a man from Flores, and then started the bout.
The Floresian fighter lunged forward, but Mercer coolly spun away. Mercer could have whirled back around, sliced his sword across the man’s exposed back, and ended the bout right then and there, but he danced around, avoiding the other man’s attacks, and drawing out the fight like a cat playing with a mouse.
A few minutes later, Mercer sliced his sword across the man’s chest, ending the bout.
Since the tournament was only to first blood, most of the competitors didn’t wind up too badly injured, but the Floresian fighter screamed and crumpled to the ground at the deep, gruesome wound. Mercer loomed over the fallen man, sneering down at his victim, then raised his arms out to his sides, once again soaking up the crowd’s cheers.
“That’s my son,” Maximus said in a proud tone, his voice booming across the terrace.
Most people politely clapped, acknowledging Mercer’s victory, but I gave Maximus a disgusted look. He smiled back at me.
Cho rushed over to the fallen fighter, as did the bone masters who were waiting in the archways around the arena floor. They managed to heal the Floresian, then carried him out of the arena.
A few other bouts took place, and then it was Paloma’s turn.
I surged to my feet, yelling, cheering, clapping, and whistling. Sullivan, Serilda, and Auster were cheering just as loudly as I was, and Heinrich and Dominic were clapping too.
Paloma looked up at the royal terrace and stabbed her mace into the air. Then she nodded to her competitor, who returned the gesture. Cho started the fight, and Paloma and the other gladiator charged at each other, much to the delight of the roaring crowd.
The other gladiator was a mutt from Vacuna with strength and speed magic, but he was no match for Paloma, who drew first blood less than two minutes later. She helped the man to his feet, then stood in the ring and stabbed her mace up into the air over and over again. I knew that my friend had missed being part of the Black Swan troupe, especially the arena fights, and I was glad she was getting this chance to enjoy the crowd’s cheers again.
“Your guard is quite formidable,” Zariza murmured. The Ungerian queen was still sitting beside me, sipping some apple brandy. “She reminds me of Amira.”
“Is she one of your fighters?”
“No. Amira was Xenia’s daughter.”
Shock knifed through me, and I stopped clapping. “What do you mean was?”
Zariza shrugged. “Amira got involved with a boy that Xenia didn’t approve of and foolishly ran off with him. Of course Xenia tried to track her down, but she couldn’t find Amira, and no one has seen or heard from her in more than twenty years. We all assume she’s dead, including Xenia.”
“Why?”
“Because Amira would have contacted her by now. She might have made a mistake running off with that boy, but she loved Xenia too much to stay angry with her mother this long.”
I glanced over at Xenia, who was standing with the rest of the Ungers. Paloma must have also reminded Xenia of her lost daughter, because the older woman was leaning heavily on her silver ogre cane, and the scent of ashy heartbreak rolled off her in wave after wave.
The longer I looked at Xenia, the more I was reminded of Paloma’s own heartbreak over her missing mother, who had also vanished without a trace. Strange, that two ogre morphs would just disappear like that and leave their families behind.
“What did Amira look like?” I asked.
Zariza tapped her finger on her glass. “I was just a child when she vanished, so my memories are a bit fuzzy. The main thing I remember was that Amira had long, wavy golden hair that bounced and shimmered with every step she took. It was even prettier than mine.” She pouted a bit, as did the ogre on her neck, as if neither one of them could imagine such a thing.
I thought back, trying to recall every single thing Paloma had ever told me about her mother. My friend was still stabbing her mace up into the air, and my gaze locked onto the weapon—Peony.
“Did Amira wear peony perfume?”
Zariza blinked in surprise. “Yes, she did. It was her favorite scent. How did you know that?”
More shock knifed through me, and theories and implications spun through my mind, although I kept my expression neutral. “Just a lucky guess. Xenia wears the same perfume.”
As does Paloma. Although I didn’t voice that thought.
Zariza’s amber eyes narrowed. She didn’t believe me, but she didn’t have a reason to question me either.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Serilda discreetly waving at me. “Please excuse me.”
Zariza turned her attention back to the arena floor. I got to my feet and went over to Serilda and Sullivan, who were standing by one of the buffet tables. Auster was sitting nearby, keeping an eye on Leonidas, who was slowly, resolutely shifting food from one side of his plate to the other and back again.
“It’s time,” Serilda said in a low voice. “If you want to do this, then we need to leave now.”
I nodded at her and looked at Sullivan. Worry filled his blue eyes, and I could smell his concern. He hadn’t liked my plan, but he especially didn’t like this part of it.
“Are you sure that you don’t want me to come with you?” he whispered. “I could help.”
“I know, but it will look suspicious if we all leave,” I murmured back. “Besides, I need you to stay here. If things go wrong, you and Auster need to get Leonidas to safety, along with the rest of the Bellonans.”