Through his anger, I see an admiration that I’ve recognized his greatness.
“I haven’t come to take your place. I’ve come to give you knowledge to help cheat death itself.”
His brow furrows in confusion.
“In the Wendigo, there was a man named Faria the Red. I suspect you’ve heard of him. He competed in the Combat over a hundred years ago and forced Chilleus of the Julii to cry for mercy. He taught me the deadly secrets you’ve witnessed me use. The power was not originally created to kill. That is simply how it has been twisted by the weakness of men.” I step closer, baiting him. “Your enemies have poisoned you, aging your body beyond its years. I’ll give you the power to counteract this. With my knowledge, you’ll live much longer, perhaps decades.”
“You’d gift me this knowledge?” His eyes narrow.
“For my freedom? Yes.” The only way to destroy you is to be free of you for all time.
“I’ll teach you to tame the cells within your body. With this power, you can fight the pathogen. It will not be easy, but you are Edric the Leviathan, two-time champion of the Combat. You will do this and then supply me with passage off this world. I’ll fade into the vastness of space. You’ll sire a new son, a better son. In time, no one will remember Edmon Leontes. Do you accept?”
Silence hangs between us like a thick umbilical cord, waiting to be cut.
He sighs. “You’ve defied me at every turn, proven that you can turn my greatest hopes into my utmost shame, but House Leontes must survive. At last you are right, Edmon. Only I can do what must be done. Go.” He waves his hand. “We’ll begin tomorrow.”
I bow and leave the withered king on his throne.
A faint pulsing twitters beyond the edge of hearing. The rhythm grows as I shift in the blackness of unconsciousness.
Wake up, Edmon!
I struggle to open my eyes from a drowsy coma. Eventually, my eyes flit open, and I take in the blurry light of a white room. This is not my bedchamber.
“He’s returning to consciousness, lord,” a voice says.
“Leave us,” my father replies to a doctor in a white lab suit.
What’s happened? I open my mouth to scream, and no sound comes. My view rushes into focus. I’m in a white room with healing tanks and instrument racks. I lie in bed with a monitor reading my vitals. Edric sits at the foot of my bed, his long robes trailing on the floor. He looks like a corpse in midnight blue.
The last thing I remember was lying in bed, a clicking sound from the wall, and a sudden sting at my neck, my hand quickly flying to the site of the sting.
I try to speak, and nothing but a faint whisper passes my lips. My father raises a bony hand to quiet me. “After your speech last night, you’ll not be speaking again. Or singing.”
What? Again, no sound emerges.
“To cheat death, if only for a few more years, what more could a man like me want? It was a clever offer. I thought about it for a long time. An hour to be exact. For a man who prides himself on split-second cunning, that was an eternity, I assure you.”
No!
“I don’t have years to learn as you have had. As a warrior, I accept my fate. What I do not accept is a son who refuses to understand his place or his responsibilities to his people.”
He doubles over with violent hacking. I watch the old man writhe in silence until he can speak again.
“A new path must be forged, and I’ve already lost too many sons. You will succeed, Edmon, because I’ve cut off your options. You must become what I’ve made you, or all is lost.”
My body moves slowly, anesthesia still in my system. I push through it to force my hand to my throat. I feel a smooth, waxy scar, a line that runs the length of my neck from chin to collarbone. How long have I been under?
“Your vocal cords are gone. You’ll never sing again. You’ll never speak again. You’ll never disobey again.”
The scream inside my head is louder than any leviathan roar. I push the air out with every ounce of my soul, and all that emerges is a gasp, the merest exhalation of breath. Silent tears batter my cheeks, more devastating than thunder as I shake, not even able to truly sob.
“When you’ve triumphed in the arena, maybe you’ll find a way to replace what you’ve lost.”
He’s taken every person I cared for, every hope I ever had, and torn them to ribbons. Now he’s taken my song. Who am I? I am a mere shell. All the music is gone.
The old man reaches under his robe and pulls out an elegant, white stick. It looks like an elongated bone. He hands it to me.
“It may be mistaken for a cane,” he says. “But it is much more.”
On closer inspection, I see the bone is a scabbard fashioned from sea coral with an ivory inlay.
“The coral was taken from the reefs near your home. The inlay from the horn of the narwhal . . .”
I slowly unsheathe a blade.
“The singing steel was tempered in the forges of Albion. If Phaestion of the Julii has a siren sword, so shall you have one, too.”
I remember holding Phaestion’s blade as a boy. The metal sings but not joyfully. It is the lament of a siren who has lost her home.
“It’s based on an ancient Jian design. More refined than a rapier, quicker, and stealthier than a katana . . .”
The pommel is silver and hollow with a leviathan bisecting the empty space. I’ve seen the design before. The mirror-Edmon in the Arms of Agony held the same sword. How is that possible? The siren steel sends vibrations into my body.
“She will be your voice now.” The old man stands. “We must see this to the end.”
CHAPTER 28
ORACION
Weeks pass. I move through them lifeless. I eat mechanically. Bathe as if I’m an automaton. I fight as if I am a beast. Perhaps that’s what men are when they are violent—mere animals. Even the extrasensory experiences of my other faculties, which I learned under Faria’s tutelage, seem dulled. I walk in a world of shadow. Only death can end the suffering.
Twelve nobles, winners of the Upper Circuit, and twenty-four winners of the Under Circuits will enter the arena on Combat day. The nobles will have trained their whole lives for the event; the underclass competitors, some who have never held a weapon before being forced to step into the sands of the ring, will fight their way to the top by killing their opponents.
Edric wanted me to prove myself in the Under Circuit as he had done, but now that I’ve won my first match, he transfers me to the Upper Circuit, where bouts are determined by stun harness or first blood. He wants no chances that I will be less than perfect in the final Combat, where I will surely face my foster brother, Phaestion of the Julii.