Be brave, Amari. Be brave.
Binta’s voice rings through my head with such clarity, it makes my eyes sting. When she was alive, the sound of her voice fortified something inside of me, but tonight her words are drowned out by the arena’s calls for carnage.
“They’ll love this.” The announcer grins as he leads the three of us underground. “Women never compete as captains. ’Cause of you, we got to charge double.”
Zélie snorts, but it lacks her usual bite. “Glad our blood is worth a little extra.”
“Novelty’s always worth extra.” The announcer flashes her a disgusting smile. “Remember that in case you ever go into business. A maggot like you could turn a fair amount of coin.”
Zélie grabs Tzain’s arm before he can react and fixes the announcer with a murderous glare. Her fingers slide along her metal staff.
Do it, I almost whisper.
If she beats the announcer senseless, perhaps we’ll have another shot at stealing the sunstone. Anything would be better than the fate that awaits us if we board that boat.
“Enough talk.” Zélie takes a deep breath and unhands her staff.
My heart sinks as we continue forward. To our deaths we go.
When we enter the rusted cellar housing the ship, our designated crew barely looks up. The laborers appear small against the vast hull of the wooden vessel, weakened from years of hard work. Though most of them are div?ners, the oldest appears to have only a year or two on Tzain. A guard unshackles their chains, a moment of false freedom before the slaughter.
“Command them as you wish.” The announcer waves as if the laborers are cattle. “You have thirty minutes to strategize. Then the games begin.”
With that he turns, retreating from the dark cellar. As soon as he’s gone, Tzain and Zélie pull loaves of bread and canteens from our packs and distribute them throughout the crowd. I expect the laborers to devour the meager feast, but they stare at the stale bread like it’s the first time they’ve ever seen food.
“Eat,” Tzain coaxes. “But not too fast. Go slow or you’ll get sick.”
One young div?ner moves to take a bite of bread, but a gaunt woman holds him back.
“Skies,” I mutter. The child can’t be much older than ten.
“What is this?” an older kosidán asks. “Your idea of a last meal?”
“No one’s going to die,” Tzain assures them. “Follow my lead and you’ll leave with your lives and the gold.”
If Tzain feels even half the terror I do, he does not show it. He stands tall, commanding respect, confidence laced through his voice and gait. Watching him, it’s almost possible to believe we’ll be alright. Almost.
“You can’t fool us with bread.” A woman with a grisly scar running across her eye speaks up. “Even if we win, you’ll kill us and keep the gold.”
“We’re after the stone.” Tzain shakes his head. “Not the gold. Work with us and I promise you can keep every piece.”
I study the crowd, hating the smallest part of me that wants them to revolt. Without a crew, we couldn’t enter the arena. Zélie and Tzain would have no choice but to stay off the ship.
Be brave, Amari. I close my eyes and force a deep breath. Underground, the memory of Binta’s voice is louder, stronger inside my head.
“You don’t have a choice.” All eyes turn to me and my cheeks flush. Be brave. I can do this. This is no different from elocution at the palace. “It’s not fair and it’s not right, but it’s happening. Whether you want to work with us or not, you have to get on that boat.”
I lock eyes with Tzain and he nudges me forward. I clear my throat as I walk, forcing myself to sound strong. “Every other captain competing tonight just wants to win. They don’t care who gets killed or hurt. We want you to live. But that’s only going to happen if you trust us.”
The crew looks around the cellar before turning to the strongest among them—a div?ner almost as tall as Tzain. A tapestry of scars ripple across his back as he walks over and meets Tzain’s eye.
The air seems to hold its breath as we wait for his decision. My legs nearly collapse when he holds out his hand.
“What do you need us to do?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
AMARI
“CHALLENGERS IN POSITION!”
The announcer’s voice booms below the arena. My heart lurches against my chest. Thirty minutes have passed in a blur as Tzain discussed strategies and delegated commands. He leads like a seasoned general, wise from years of war. The laborers hang on Tzain’s every word, a spark alight in their eyes.
“Alright.” Tzain nods. “Let’s do this.”
With more nourishment and renewed hope, the laborers move with purpose. But as everyone shuffles onto the deck of the ship, my feet grow heavy like lead. The roar of rushing water approaches, bringing back all the bodies that drowned in its wrath. I can already feel the water pulling down my limbs.
This is it.…
In moments, the games shall begin.
Half the laborers settle into their rowing stations, ready to grant us speed. The rest take position around the cannons in the efficient formation Tzain conceived: two laborers maneuver the muzzle for aim, two load the blastpowder into the breech. Soon, everyone is on the boat.
Everyone except me.
With the water rising, I force my leaden feet to move and I board the ship. I walk across the deck to get in position behind a cannon, but Tzain blocks my path.
“You don’t have to do this.”
Terror rings so loudly in my ears it takes a moment to process Tzain’s words. You don’t have to do this.
You don’t have to die.
“There are only three people who know about the ritual. If we’re all on the boat…” He clears his throat, swallowing the fatal thought. “I didn’t come all this way for nothing. No matter what, one of us has to survive.”
Alright. The words slip to the edge of my lips, desperate to escape. “But Zélie,” I choke out instead. “If anyone stays behind, it should be her.”
“If we stood a chance in hell without her on this ship, I would be persuading my sister instead.”
“But—” I stop as the water of the arena surges, splashing onto the boat. In minutes the chamber will be covered, trapping me inside this burial chamber. If I’m going to run, it has to be now. In a moment it’ll be too late.
“Amari, just go,” Tzain presses. “Please. We’ll fight better if we don’t have to worry about you getting hurt.”
We. I almost find the heart to laugh. Behind us Zélie grips the railing, eyes closed and lips quick as she practices the incantation. Despite her obvious fear, she still fights. No one allows her to run away.
If you’re going to act like a little princess, turn yourself in to the guards. I’m not here to protect you. I’m here to fight.
“My brother is after me,” I whisper to Tzain. “My father, too. Staying off this boat does not keep me or the secret of the scroll alive. It only buys me time.” As the water splashes my feet, I step forward, joining a team at the cannons. “I can do this,” I lie.
I can fight.