“What do you mean?” I asked.
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “Gravnach killed my brother. He was only fourteen years old, too young for the arena. But our family was so poor and Lorca was determined to win prize money. He—” She put a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes before continuing. “He was the youngest in our family. My mother went mad with grief. I lost my brother and my mother to that monster, and now you’ve killed him. For that, I thank you.”
I was touched by her gratitude, though I didn’t deserve it. I had only been trying to survive. But I understood her need for revenge more than I could say.
She looked up at me with a pleading expression. “I don’t normally talk about it, but I felt I must thank you. If you tell anyone that I’ve spoken against one of the champions, I’ll be punished.”
“I would never tell, Doreena. And I’m glad if his death brings you peace. But I did nothing except what I had to do. I had no choice.”
When I was dressed, my hair loose down my back, she stood and looked at me with a fierce glint in her eye. “I will cheer for you, my lady, no matter what everyone else thinks.”
A few minutes later, guards led me through the courtyard. Heat came off my skin in nervous waves as I tried to block out the cries of “Die, Fireblood, die!”
I knew what to expect in the arena now, but whether I could survive again was completely uncertain. And the thing that had been inside my skin might come again. I was nervous, confused, almost frantic as I paced back and forth in the alcove, grateful that the other fighters avoided me and I had the space to work out my nerves.
“Careful, Fireling,” said Braka, “or you will burn yourself out before you even enter the arena.”
I stopped and turned to her. Thoughts of Doreena’s brother filled my head. If a boy was allowed to fight once, it might happen again. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than having to kill a child.
“Did you ever have to fight an innocent?” I asked. “Someone who you knew had no business being in the ring? I’m guessing you were a champion once.”
She shook her head, the icicles in her hair clinking slightly. “I fought many years ago, under King Akur. It was different then. Only seasoned warriors were sought.”
She opened her mouth and closed it again, perhaps thinking better of some comment. I sensed by her open expression that, like Doreena, she didn’t hate me for being a Fireblood.
“You are to have a sword today,” she finally said, handing me one in a leather sheath.
I eyed the weapon with a sense of repulsion, knowing how the cold steel would feel in my hand, how far it was from my natural heat. “I have little skill with a sword.”
She shrugged. “The king’s choice.”
I drew the blade, testing its weight. It was well balanced and a good size for me, not too heavy.
“You’re a champion this time,” said Braka. “You greet the crowd with the others. It’s tradition.”
I followed the procession through the dim interior of the alcove, which must span the entire perimeter of the arena. In a few minutes, we were on the other side, where I had seen the procession come from the day before. Clustered around the opening were men with spears holding the reins of white horses, handlers wrestling with animals that pulled against their leashes, and fighters of all shapes and sizes, from ragged men and women in chains to warriors in shiny steel breastplates and helms.
The white-haired announcer made his way through our ranks and swept into the arena, striding to center stage. Today he wore embroidered cobalt robes lined with white fur, and his neck and fingers flashed with silver jewelry. He greeted the crowd much like he had the day before, reminding the people that they honored their king by cheering his champions and cursing his enemies. When he was finished speaking, spear-carrying warriors on horseback started the parade. The champions followed on foot, with me last. Behind us were the exotic animals and their sweating handlers.
Dust swirled from under our feet and danced in the sunlight. I found the king’s balcony, his white robes with gold trim glowing in the bright sun. His head swiveled, following my every step. In the periphery of my vision, I saw Marella in a turquoise gown. But my eyes kept returning to the king. Every time, it was harder to tear my attention away.
“We have a singular treat for the good citizens of Fors,” the announcer said. “A spectacle the likes of which you’ve never seen. Today our champions and challengers will be faced with an additional complication. Sizar, the rare and dangerous frost tiger, and Brux, the great bull and ancient mascot of the northern tribes, will also fight. And they care not if they slash or gore a champion or a challenger!”