AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The second in line to the throne of Ardora.
And she was standing right here, just fifty yards away.
With a chill far detached from the warmth of low summer, Teigra knew that Zosime would have already told Calix of Aurelius’s intended trickery. The whole royal family probably knew by now!
Her fingers went numb.
Aurelius was halfway toward the tunnel now. She hadn’t wanted to tell him about bringing the folio. And she’d certainly not wanted to tell him about losing it! The thought of what that betrayal might cost her filled her with such pain she couldn’t dwell on the thought for long. Aurelius was the only family she had left anymore. The only one who cared about her. Who trusted her.
And after this, he might never trust her again. She might lose him as well, and she couldn’t bear the thought of that!
But it was too late for that now. He was in grave danger. And she couldn’t let him face it without knowing.
She would admit everything! No matter what it cost her. She had to! She had seen how her cousin had reacted at the death of the harpies. He was no fighter. But Calix was. One of the best in the land. And if the prince knew what Aurelius intended, then there was no telling what he might do.
Teigra stood with sudden purpose, pushing past the cheering spectators, and coming alongside the fence of stabbed steel. She couldn’t just chase after him. Aurelius had gone around the edge, but he was too close to the tunnel now.
But she could catch him on the diagonal, if she ran across the wrestling grounds.
The sword wall glinted a cold warning—no higher than her waist, but as tall as city walls with menace.
Beyond here there is violence.
Beyond here there is combat.
She gulped, her whole body screaming for her to return to her seat. But it was too late. She couldn’t allow Aurelius to be in that danger. She just couldn’t!
She jumped over the swords and ran through the combatants, eyes fixed on the tunnel that Aurelius was just moments from entering. The grains burned hot as they flowed through her sandals, but she kept going, weaving past goliaths of men slamming together. She ducked and darted on legs well-honed from years of exercise. She—
The body came out of nowhere. A man darted to one side, not out of malice to get her, merely a fighter trying to avoid getting hit. But it was enough.
The impact knocked her back hard across the sand with a great, sweaty smack to the side. Stars filled her eyes as she rolled to a stop and tried desperately to blink the daze out.
“Well done,” came a bright and boisterous voice as she pulled herself up, unsure of which way she was even facing. “That’s what we like to see. Got the snot knocked out of you without even a simper.”
“Yes, Hoplite Afigi. Thank you, Hoplite Afigi.”
“Good lass. Now, head back and grab a steam. Captain Megala ’as been looking for a girl like you to join her Sisterhood for years! Tomorrow, you’ll head to the Stormkillers to join them. Life as a Sister starts today. For you at least.”
The female speaker stood as tall as Calix above the circle of women that formed a ring. And she looked just as strong too, with skin that held a gray-blue undertone, like a paler shade of that possessed by some of the giants they’d passed in the street. Atop her rugged, square-featured face was a sweep of silver-black hair, trimmed almost to the skin at the sides.
“But look at the rest of them, Pikra!” the tall one continued. “Standing back with their knees a-shaking? Don’t no one else want to challenge ’er Highness?”
There came sharp tutting from somewhere unseen, until Teigra caught a glimpse of a much shorter woman pacing the front row.
“Typical, Elexis. Just typical!” she sneered.
Unlike the tall one, this “Pikra” lacked the physical size to back up her directness. She was small and sinewy, with features that were sharp, although not unattractive. She had a narrow nose, full cheeks and lips, and a pair of defined eyebrows set in a mocking scowl. Despite barely coming up to breast height, the circle flinched more under her gaze than they had from Elexis. “You’re an insult to Ardor, you lot! Where’s your passion, eh?”
Amidst the dressing down, Princess Zosime stood radiant in the middle of the circle, looking as if she hadn’t even noticed the other women, let alone felt threatened by them. Her muscular legs were sun-kissed as summer wheat, set astride in the stance of a warrior. Her shoulders were relaxed but strong. Even her hair, tied back in a loose ponytail, was black and sleek and strong.
Back in the orange grove, among the bodies of the harpies she’d sliced apart, Zosime had appeared powerful. But standing here, in little more than a light glisten of sweat and a few pieces of red linen, she seemed the most beautiful, the most powerful, the most commanding woman that Teigra had ever seen.
Teigra shook the last of the daze away and got fully to her feet, remembering why she was in the wrestling ground in the first place. She looked around desperately, finally falling on the tunnel where Aurelius—
Was already gone.
Her blood went cold.
