Lieza was on her back, pinned beneath her, the concern in her eyes now turned to fear. Reva couldn’t recall leaping from the bath. Lotarev didn’t speak as she raised the axe. It made a crunching sound as it bit into his spine, just like the prisoners and the Free Sword, Fatherless sinners all . . .
She shuddered and scurried away from Lieza until her back met the wall, drawing her legs up and burying her head in her knees. She felt Lieza come to sit beside her, soft fingers gently tracing through her damp hair until Reva raised her head. Her kiss was tentative, so unlike Veliss in its lack of experience . . .
Reva moved back. “I can’t . . .”
“Not for you,” Lieza murmured, kissing her again, more insistent now, Reva finding her heart pounding, knowing she should push her away and yet her arms opened to enfold her, drawing her close. Lieza drew back a fraction, their breath mingling as she stared into Reva’s eyes. “For me.”
? ? ?
Varulek arrived after the morning meal with a dozen female slaves, some bearing clothing, others combs and various concoctions used for dressing hair or painting faces. They dressed her in armour, of a sort, specially tailored to her size judging from the closeness of the fit. The breastplate was tight around her torso, fashioned from stiff leather but too thin to ward off anything but a glancing blow. Similarly the kilt of leather strips, each weighted at the lower end with a brass stud, was too flimsy to afford more than basic protection. She soon realised this was not truly armour; she was required to play a role and this was her costume. However, she took some comfort from the fact it was light enough to allow her to move quickly.
Lieza was dressed in a long gown of flowing silk, dyed a pale shade of violet that complemented her eyes. Her hair, grown longer than any slave was usually permitted over the weeks of seclusion, was moulded into a lustrous ebony cascade, adorned with a small silver diadem.
“Avielle was a queen,” Varulek explained. “Granted the throne by her elder sister who eschewed power for service, preferring to fight rather than rule. When the Dermos fired Jarvek’s lust to carry Avielle off to the dark places, they baited a trap Livella could never resist.”
Reva met Lieza’s gaze and the girl smiled, seemingly immune to fear now. Reva had woken awash in memories that alternated between Veliss and the previous night, guilt and delight stirring to a fugue of confusion. She disentangled herself from Lieza’s embrace and roamed the chamber, vainly searching the Ten Books for some words to comfort a betraying soul. Lieza was markedly less confused, waking and coming to her with more kisses.
“No.” Reva turned away, softening the rejection with a clasp to her hand. “No. Today we fight. One last practice before they come for us.”
Varulek dismissed the slaves when Reva grew fractious at their constant fussing, snarling at a matronly woman attempting to brush some reddish powder onto her cheeks.
“I doubt the Empress will notice any imperfections,” he said when they had gone. He glanced at the two Kuritai at the door, presumably to confirm no Arisai had joined them in the interval. “Rumour has it your queen is fifty miles from the city. Panic spreads but the Empress has her spies everywhere. A hundred free men received the three deaths yesterday and she has decreed all citizens of age attend the arena.”
“The bow,” Reva said.
“There’s a motif carved into the centre of the lintel under the Empress’s balcony, an eagle with wings spread. The bow is beneath the sand fifty paces directly in front of it. You will have six arrows.”
With luck, five more than I’ll need. “I have another condition,” she said, turning to Lieza once more. “Should I fall, you will secure her escape from this place and take her to the queen. She will be my assurance your words are true.”
“The task we face is perilous. I can make no promises . . .” He trailed off in the face of her glare, eventually giving a reluctant nod. “I will do what I can.”
? ? ?
The trumpets blared as they were led into the arena, the tiered terraces so filled with people it seemed they might overflow the walls and spill onto the sand. Apart from the trumpets, however, there was barely any sound save the continual faint groan of thousands drawing breath. Reva picked out numerous specks of red and black amidst the throng; Kuritai and Arisai strategically placed to ensure their continued attendance. She shifted her gaze to the lowest tier, scanning the faces within sight. There was none of the bloodlust she had seen before, just a parade of scared people, tense with dreadful expectation.
Was this her intention? she wondered. To make them hate the spectacles they loved?