In the pale morning light, snow had begun to fall.
The king’s guard crossed the room to my side with the athletic grace of a mountain cat. “My lady, the king has assigned me for your personal protection and to escort you to the coliseum for the battle,” she said.
I went hot and then cold. How could I fight like this? I hadn’t had any time to recover from my injuries—and more important, to confront Nismae about her theft of the Fatestone.
“These vestments were sent for you, my lady,” the maid said, holding up a simple dress in shades of crimson and a bloodred wool cloak lined with brown fur.
“As long as I can wear my own cloak as well,” I said. Red was the king’s color, not mine. I belonged dressed in shadows—in my mother’s legacy. I wanted her protection for the battle to come.
The maid put my hair into a braided crown, then helped me into the crimson dress and placed the red cloak over my shoulders. All the while, I shot Hal a series of desperate looks he seemed to understand. He regretfully gave Iman to Zallie and pulled on his boots, subtly stashing his weapons in the hidden places where he always carried them.
“Keep them safe,” I told Zallie. “If the unthinkable happens, run. Go as fast as you can. One or both of us will meet you where we agreed.”
She nodded her understanding, her face pinched with worry. It wasn’t far to the Switchback Inn, our rendezvous point, but it might seem that way with two babies and the chaos that would take over the streets after the battle regardless of who won.
I kissed Iman and Nera good-bye, and then Zallie’s cheek, too. She blushed.
Then the king’s guard led us away.
We met with the king’s procession and paraded through the streets surrounded by onlookers. The Nightswifts’ stream of white pennants made its way through the city on a lower street, flooding in the direction of the coliseum. Thick flakes of snow pelted our faces as we walked. The noise of the crowd was deafening. I gripped Hal’s hand like I was trying to crush the life out of it.
“What are we going to do about Nismae and the Fatestone?” I asked. It was the only way I could have stopped this day from unfolding as it had.
“I’ll enter the coliseum with you and then go to Nismae. She and Ina will be settled in the challenger’s quarters soon.” His voice was resolute.
Nervousness raced through me. As if crossing lines between the challengers wasn’t bad enough, I hated the idea of him leaving now. If something went wrong, we’d be separated during the battle. I’d be occupied managing the king’s enchantments, but it would have felt better doing it with Hal by my side. But what choice did we have?
“She isn’t going to give it to you,” I said. The chances of Nismae parting with it now seemed very small. I’d have to make a trade I wasn’t willing to, like giving up helping the king. Could I make that sacrifice? If he won, he’d surely kill or imprison me for treason. I shuddered. I couldn’t spend the rest of my life locked away in some dank cell. I couldn’t let Iman be abandoned a second time.
“As you once pointed out, I’m a thief. I’ll find a way to get it,” he said.
The coliseum loomed before us. Some of the Swifts had chosen not to walk, and instead swooped down from the sky to line up outside the gates. Gone were the subtle vestments of trained killers and thieves. Today they dressed in white to honor their champion for the crown.
“I don’t want you to go,” I whispered.
“I don’t either,” he said.
These might be our last moments together before the battle. I hadn’t expected them to come so soon.
“Go now, before I change my mind and decide I can’t do without you,” I said.
He smiled. “I’ll be thinking of you every moment,” he said.
His words sent a thrill through me—the only reprieve from my anxiety.
He kissed me, and I let myself get lost in it for just a few heartbeats until he reluctantly pulled away.
“Be swift and be safe,” I said.
He nodded, and then he split away from the group at the coliseum’s entrance.
Once inside the king’s quarters, I turned back to watch the end of the procession.
Ina was last to appear, and I shuddered when I saw her. She winged through the low clouds, white against white, until she finally burst free with a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the city. Onlookers pointed and screamed, some of them fleeing. How long had it been since anyone had seen a dragon in Corovja? Or anywhere?
Those who had come to Corovja in the past moon were finally going to get the show they’d been waiting for.
Ina landed in front of the escort that had preceded her, and they saluted her with their white flags. She roared again, then loosed a plume of flame. Steam rose from where she’d melted the snow, leaving the cobblestones scorched black.
The challenge had begun for the crown of Zumorda.
CHAPTER 36
THE COLISEUM WAS ALREADY FILLED FROM TOP TO bottom upon our arrival, thousands upon thousands of people waiting for the show to begin. I tried to ignore the dull roar of the crowd and the impossible level of fatigue in my body as I set up my work area in the king’s preparation chambers.
Eywin greeted me with a warm hug when he arrived. “We were so worried,” he said. “Where were you? Hal seemed to have some idea, but he didn’t have any luck tracking you down.”
A swell of gratitude for Hal rose in me. It must have been hard for him to keep from Eywin what I had been up to, but I was grateful that he had. I didn’t know if Eywin could be trusted not to tell the king what we knew of the Fatestone, and the last thing I needed was another complication in getting it back from Nismae.
The king strode in just as I set out the last of my vials.
“All ready?” he asked.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” I turned to face him. He wore simple leathers meant to go under heavy armor—breeches, a fitted vest, a black shirt. Some of my blood would go on his temples, but I also planned to paint a few symbols where they couldn’t be seen. Ina and Nismae would have a hard time telling what I’d done without using the Sight.
I did not hold back as I drew the bloody symbols on his skin and armor. Once the battle began, there wouldn’t be any opportunity to add more. With each symbol I drew, more and more threads of magic connected us until a web of power lay between us, initiating a gentle exchange of energy that would become fierce when the time required it.
“The final ones will go on your hands, Your Majesty,” I said.
He held out his hands to me.
The Fatestone adorned his ring finger.
I felt dizzy. It wasn’t Nismae who had stolen the Fatestone from me.
It was the king.
The truth slammed into me like a battering ram. I stared at him, frozen. “You took it from me,” I finally said.
“Only for your protection. It’s very sought after, you know—it would not have been safe for you to carry around such a powerful artifact. Someone might hurt you to get it, and I couldn’t risk losing my most important battle asset right before the challenge.” He spoke with the calm and rehearsed manner of someone who expects to be believed.
“Yes, you could.” My voice rose. I’d dispensed with formality. “Whoever attacked me left me there to die!”
He chuckled, like it was all some sort of joke to him. “I wouldn’t have allowed that to happen.” He glanced at Eywin, and I knew then that he hadn’t expected me to survive my ordeal in the tomb. That was why Eywin was here today—because the king hadn’t known I would come back.
“But you did,” I said coldly. “Why do you think my fingers look like this?” I held out my hands. The ends of my fingers were still scraped and tender from clawing my way out of Veric’s coffin.
He shrugged. “It’s not important now. Finish your work. You can’t turn your back on me without risking Zumorda losing its magic. You’re half made of magic, so that seems unwise at best.”