He gestured to the animals with a wide smile. The tiger prowled back and forth, baring its teeth and snarling at the crowd. The bull snorted and pawed the ground, yanking against the yoke held by men on each side.
“One champion, one challenger,” said the announcer, “and two beasts in every match. If the beasts survive, they both go on to the next match. But only one man or woman, or perhaps only an animal, will leave the arena alive.”
The stands erupted in cheers and applause.
The blood had drained from my face. I trembled and leaned against a wooden pillar in the alcove, waiting for the world to stop spinning. People were going to have their throats ripped out for the enjoyment of the crowd. I wanted to push the announcer out of the way and rage at them.
“But before we bring out our champions, the animals look a bit hungry, don’t you think? Perhaps a couple of traitors will fill their bellies.”
The crowd roared again.
Two men in chains were pulled toward the arena. As they passed, I realized one looked familiar.
“Clay,” I breathed, hardly believing that it could be the butcher’s son, who had given me my first kiss, and who had told the soldiers I was a Fireblood, ending my life as I knew it.
It seemed like a hundred years since I’d seen him, but it was definitely Clay. He had a distinctively crooked nose, which he’d broken in a fight. I remembered how my mother had admonished him for not coming to her for healing sooner, before the bone had started to set.
I hesitated. I could let him walk into the arena and I’d never have to see him again. But he was from my village and no matter what he’d done, he was here in this awful place, same as me.
“Wait,” I said to the guard who held his chain. “Please, I know him.”
“Nobody cares, Firefilth. Get out of the way.”
Braka turned from where she spoke to one of the fighters and put her hands on her hips, leveling the guard with her stare. “One of the king’s champions made a request. You can spare a minute.”
The guard returned her stare, but he was the first to look away. “Only a minute.”
I nodded my thanks to Braka and stepped up beside Clay. He gave me a harsh look, but then his eyes widened. “Ruby?”
“What happened?” I asked flatly. “You were so helpful turning my mother and me over, but now they’re calling you a traitor.”
He shook his head, his eyes intense. “I didn’t mean to betray you or your mother.”
“Before or after you summoned the soldiers?”
“I didn’t,” he said urgently. “But once they were there, I had no choice. They threatened to kill us one by one if no one told them where the Fireblood lived. I don’t know how they knew about you.”
“You knew about me. It wasn’t hard to figure out I’m a Fireblood when… after you touched me. And I didn’t kill your brother. I tried to save him!”
“I know, but… I didn’t want to be branded a traitor. My family would have suffered—you know that. And I swear, they didn’t come because of me.”
“And yet here you are. What happened, Clay?”
The guard started to pull Clay forward.
“Listen, Ruby,” Clay whispered, leaning toward me and dragging his feet against the guard. “That day changed me. I couldn’t forget what happened to you. What I’d done. So I left the village and found other people who’ve had enough of the king’s cruelty. They’ve been gathering support for the past year.” He turned and spat on the ground. “That’s what I think of the Frost King who sits on the throne.”
The guard swatted the back of Clay’s head, making him stumble. My hand came to steady Clay’s arm.
“Enough talk,” said the guard.
And Clay was pulled into the arena.
So someone else had drawn the soldiers to the village. He’d revealed me only because he’d had no choice. As much as I didn’t want to excuse him, I had to recognize that he’d been terrified, caught between swords and torches, protecting the people he loved.
The handlers had backed into an alcove, a gate now between them and the animals so they’d be safe when they let go of the leashes. As the tiger pulled free, I noticed that Clay and the other prisoner still had their hands shackled. They’d have no chance at all.
The tiger shook itself and snarled at the handler behind the gate before turning and pacing the arena. The other prisoner made a run for the alcove, but shiny spears pointed at him from that direction had him veering away. Clay just stood in the center of the arena, his eyes closed, mouth moving. It looked like he was praying.
Something flickered into life in my chest: anger, bitterness, pain, all swirling together and pushing heat into my limbs.
The tiger finished its prowling exploration of the edges of the arena and turned its attention to Clay. It approached slowly, sniffing the air and snarling before taking an experimental swipe with its paw. Its claws slashed Clay’s already ragged pants, tearing a hole and opening a gash in his thigh. The smell of blood seemed to incense the animal. It slashed again and then lunged, its mouth open.
Before I knew what I was doing, I was sprinting into the bright sun of the arena.
TWENTY-THREE