No speechwriter had written what he said. It was unpolished, blunt, straight to the point and televised.
“A long time ago, I made you a promise. I said there would be law in this demesne, and I said it would be a fair one. I told you there would be protection for those of you who could not protect yourselves. As a result, the Wyr demesne remains one of the strongest Elder Races demesnes in the world, and the sentinels are a key part of that promise.
“Six months ago I put out the call, and Wyr from all over the world answered. Every candidate who will fight in this arena has chosen to be here, including each of my current five sentinels who have already served both you and me for a very long time. They could have taken the opportunity these Games presented to retire with honor. None of them chose to do that.
“Of the others, we have screened each applicant carefully until only the most qualified Wyr will enter this arena. They’re smart, experienced and capable, and I would be proud to have any of them stand at my side. But not all of them will. The only thing we have left to discover is which of these contestants are the seven strongest. Those will be the Wyr who stand by my side on Friday. They will keep the peace, uphold the law, protect our borders and both they and I will hunt down anyone foolish enough to try to harm the Wyr in any way.
“That continues to be my promise to you and to the rest of the world. Today we start with four hundred and forty-eight contestants—the best and the brightest of the Wyr. Each will fight, and if they lose, they’re out, including my current five. Tomorrow we start with two hundred and twenty-four. Friday morning, there will be fourteen left. By Friday evening, the Wyr demesne will have its seven. That way everyone will know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the strongest and the best Wyr hold this demesne safe.”
Then he took a deep breath, filling his lungs. He brought his Wyr form close to the surface and let it glow like lava in his eyes.
With enough Power to shake the entire building, the dragon let out a deep roar.
“LET THE GAMES BEGIN!”
Both the crowd and the contestants surged to their feet and roared with him. He walked off the floor while the Games manager took over. It was a strong beginning to the week, a show of Wyr solidarity to the watching world and no doubt it made damn fine TV.
And, bloody hell, he was glad it was over.
Because he couldn’t wait for nightfall.
Pia had better be able to get to sleep. If she couldn’t, their plans were fucked.
THREE
The rest of the road trip down to Charleston held more challenges for Pia, after she and the others piled back into the SUVs. Despite the antinausea charm she wore almost constantly, the concentrated smell of so much greasy meat from the many breakfast sandwiches the others had ordered from McDonald’s, combined with traveling in the passenger seat, caused her a miserable spell of nausea.
She never actually vomited, but they had to roll down the windows and let frigid air blow through the vehicle until the others had consumed their food. Then they had to stop again to throw away the bags so the smell would really dissipate from the SUV. She couldn’t even stand to keep the hash browns they had bought for her. McDonald’s used “natural beef flavor” in their hash browns, and she couldn’t tolerate how they smelled.
Eventually the group could roll up the windows again. In sharp contrast to the barbed tension and outright antagonism from earlier, the others were really very good about it all—patient and concerned, and without a hint of irritation.
So at least she had made some progress.
The temperature warmed as they traveled south, but the day never brightened. They drove into a steady drizzle, again in almost perfect contrast to her previous trip. This time too there was no need to stop at a superstore for supplies—a pair of mated Wyr had traveled down a couple of days earlier to prepare the estate Dragos had rented. The couple would keep house and provide any cooking that the group would need, which included high-end catering for any guests Pia might invite. They were especially versed in vegan cuisine and coached to provide meals for Pia that were high in protein.
Charleston was a gray smear of rain-dulled cobblestone streets, the windows of gracious homes shining with warm, golden light.