Golden Age (The Shifting Tides, #1)(86)

As Chloe was about to thrust, she saw motion out of the corner of her eye.

Time stood still.

The bowman was in Ilean clothing: white tunic and trousers, common dress she might see on any of Lamara’s streets. His sandy hair marked him out as different, but there were many different peoples in the sun king’s capital. He stood just outside the wooden rail girding the arena floor, where a gap in the broken fence enabled ingress.

He had his bow drawn, about to loose an arrow. Chloe knew she had the briefest instant to react.

She dropped the sword and ran at Tomarys.

His eyes widened with shock and surprise as she struck. Chloe hit him with her shoulder tucked in, shoving him forward. She felt the whistle of the arrow as it missed her head by an inch. Tomarys grunted, but although knocked back he stayed standing. Chloe’s mad lunge meant she fell to the ground, tumbling onto the sand.

She rolled on to her back and saw Tomarys spy his assailant and make a swift assessment. The archer fitted another arrow and drew and released in a single smooth motion.

But Tomarys was aware of the attack now, and weaved as he ran directly at him. The second arrow flew past the big warrior’s shoulder. Realizing he didn’t have time to release a third shaft, the bowman dropped his bow and charged.

The two men crashed into each other and went down in a mess of flailing limbs. The archer got on top and smashed a fist into Tomarys’s jaw, but the bodyguard merely grunted and brought the heel of his hand into his opponent’s chin.

The strike resounded like an axe splitting kindling. The bowman fell backwards and his eyes rolled. Tomarys shook his head to clear it and climbed to his feet as his opponent moaned, on his back and senseless.

Tomarys scowled and rubbed his jaw. He reached down and with his left hand grabbed hold of the archer by the throat, lifting him into the sky. The bowman’s feet were now dangling and he gurgled as the bodyguard looked into his face.

As Tomarys held him high, squeezing his neck, he clenched his right fist and smashed it into his opponent’s chest.

Chloe winced, hearing ribs crack. Another strike hit the bowman’s face, near his eye.

Breathlessly, she managed to get to her feet as Tomarys pounded the bowman again and again. She saw that his face was turning red; his struggles were now pitiful. Tomarys was going to kill him.

In that instant, despite his foreign clothing, Chloe suddenly recognized him.

Her face drained of color.

Tomarys was beating Dion, prince of Xanthos, the second son of King Markos. He was the last person she expected to see.

The pieces fitted together. He had used the boy to pass Chloe a message in the street. He had seen Chloe holding a sword pointed at Tomarys. Dion had come here to rescue her.

‘Stop!’ Chloe screamed. She ran to Tomarys and pulled at the arm holding Dion by the throat. ‘Stop! Don’t kill him!’

Tomarys looked at Chloe and she saw the madness of rage in his eyes. But he let go, and Dion fell to the ground. He was barely conscious. His lip had burst, covering his mouth and jaw in blood. His right eye was puffed up and nearly closed shut. His fingers twitched as he lay prone on his side, the only sign that life was still in him.

‘You know who he is?’

Chloe thought furiously. ‘No . . . He must be part of the group that attacked us in the alley.’

Tomarys glanced down at him again. ‘He chose the wrong people to waylay,’ he muttered. ‘I should kill him.’

‘Tomarys . . . Don’t. Let’s just leave.’

He scanned the arena, looking for more enemies, but saw that his assailant had acted alone. ‘This place is no longer safe,’ he said. ‘We need to leave. Now.’

Chloe nodded. She wondered if there was anything she could do for Dion, but any help she gave him would arouse Tomarys’s suspicions.

She felt terrible leaving him this way, but once she’d saved Tomarys there was no other path before her. She was confused. Tomarys was her friend. She had no wish to see him dead on the ground with an arrow in his back.

They left the arena. Chloe glanced back once.

Dion still hadn’t moved.





38


The sun king was back.

Solon had returned while Chloe and Tomarys were at the arena. Chloe was now terrified, for as soon as they returned soldiers took Tomarys away while more guards escorted Chloe to the women’s quarters. Tomarys had been as confused as Chloe. Their manner hadn’t been friendly.

She spent the night wondering what was happening. When she woke in the morning, her bodyguard’s presence had been so constant that she felt strange not seeing him. The only information she got from the eunuchs was that the sun king had defeated the uprising in Shadria. She knew nothing more.

The day passed interminably. Chloe struggled to maintain her composure but couldn’t contain the dark thoughts that kept bubbling to the surface. Had the sun king learned about her training sessions with Tomarys? Did he think that they had been spending too much time away from the palace? Was he planning to launch an attack on Phalesia?

A sudden fear clutched hold of her chest. She lifted up her bed pallet to look for the sack of flower pods.

It was gone.

Chloe hunted underneath and searched the area frantically. She heard a man clear his throat.

The wild-haired eunuch with pockmarked skin stood looking down at her. Beside him were two soldiers of the palace guard.