She couldn’t save herself from the warden, the guards, the prisoners, and the crowd who would be screaming for her blood. He couldn’t save her from them either, which meant they had to work together to keep her alive without revealing who she really was.
“You can join Kali, Intizara, and me. Western edge, the triangle. Grab a weapon on your way to us. Don’t be afraid to move fast enough to get your weapon of choice. No one will remember that once the monsters enter the arena.” He grabbed her hand, her skin icy against the fire that seemed to be burning him from the inside out.
It was one thing to face his own mortality. It was another thing entirely to consider that the girl he loved might die for the crime of protecting him. The thought cut a vicious path through his mind, all teeth and talons and fear, and he had to work to keep the panic from showing on his face.
She opened her mouth to say something, and then the warden’s voice filled the arena as she said, “Our new competitor may not seem like much, but I promise you he will bring a fascinating twist to today’s combat.”
He?
Javan met Sajda’s suddenly panic-stricken gaze as the warden swept an arm toward the stalls and said, “I give you today’s surprise competitor, Tarek B’halim!”
THIRTY-FIVE
“NO!” THE WORD was ripped from Sajda’s lips before she could stop herself.
The warden smiled, and Sajda trembled. This was her punishment for saving Javan. She was going to lose Tarek, the closest thing to family she had since Maeli, the woman who’d shown her nothing but kindness and decency in the six years the woman had spent in Maqbara, had died in the arena two years before.
“I’m going in with you,” she said to Tarek, as the older man lifted one trembling arthritic hand toward her.
“She’ll kill you.”
“She can try.” Sajda shook, every ounce of the composure she’d borrowed from the stone that morning dissipating like it had never existed. “But you aren’t entering the arena without me.”
“He’ll enter with me.” Javan wrapped a hand around Tarek’s shoulder as the guards shouted for him to return to the wall. “We’ll put him in the center of the triangle.”
“But something could still get to him.” Magic screamed through her blood, raking her skin from the inside, begging to be unleashed. Her cuffs glowed, her skin burning beneath the power of the runes.
“Nothing will get to him.” Javan stepped close to her, close enough that she could see his pulse thrumming rapidly in his neck. See the quick rise and fall of his chest.
He was afraid.
So was she.
“Open the gate!” the warden called.
“I swear on my life, I will return him to you,” Javan said quietly. “The only way you can defy the warden and enter the arena is by showing everyone who you really are. They’ll turn on you in a heartbeat. Don’t reveal anything to this crowd, Sajda. I’ll protect him.”
And then they were gone, Javan spinning Tarek toward the arena and rushing in behind the other competitors who were already grabbing the black cloths that covered the weapons and cursing if they hadn’t found the one they’d hoped to use.
She watched, every muscle straining to run after them, stand in front of them, and destroy everything that came through the gate.
But Intizara reached the triangle of weapons first, followed quickly by Kali, and neither of them allowed another competitor to get to the weapons Sajda had hidden specifically for Javan.
The prince pulled Tarek across the arena to the deafening cheers of the audience, many who were on their feet, casting quick glances toward the warden in case she was the one in charge of recording who’d attended and how thoroughly they’d participated.
Sajda wanted to hurt them. Slice into their veins, let their blood pool in her palm, and whisper terrifying nightmares to them until they understood what it was to be afraid. To be certain that survival was impossible. Maybe she’d even take bets on how long they would last before their minds broke and they were lost.
“Is this the first crate?” a guard asked her, and she whipped her head around to glare at him.
He froze, and then glanced at her wrists. She followed his gaze to find that the runes were still glowing, her skin sizzling and scarring beneath them.
A quick look at the arena showed Tarek in the center of the triangle of Kali, Intizara, and Javan. Javan had the quiver strapped to his back, the short swords looped into his belt, and the bow in his hands. His expression was deadly calm as he faced the gate.
She knew him. He would protect Tarek or die trying. He’d give everything he had to keep his word, even if it meant he’d lose his chance at the final competition.
Her body shook until it felt like her bones were rattling beneath her skin, until the fraying thread that held her together inside felt seconds away from snapping.
She had to trust him.
She did trust him.
The realization did nothing to make her feel better.
The crowd was chanting now. “Release the beasts! Release the beasts!”
Sajda swept them with a glare. The beasts had already been released, and the crowd was sitting in comfortable chairs sipping dainty drinks and screaming for the blood of those who had no power to refuse their demands.
Still, she had a job to do if she didn’t want the warden to decide to come after Tarek herself.
“Ready for the first crate?” the guard asked.
“Not yet,” she snapped. Grabbing a dagger and the pouch of grave dirt Hansel had given her, she stepped into the arena, magic snapping, runes burning.
“We have some special monsters for you today as well,” the warden boomed. “And to make the combat effective, our competitors have to be prepped.”
Sajda moved quickly from prisoner to prisoner. A quick slash of the dagger across their arms. A handful of grave dirt smeared across their chests. She ignored the crowd. Ignored the muttered curses of the prisoners until Hashim whispered that Tarek was his. Then her hand lingered on his chest, full of grave dirt and magic, as she imagined sending her power into his veins to tear through his bones and boil his blood.
The buzzing swarm of magic in her palms bit into Hashim, and he stumbled back, cursing, his eyes widening as he stared at the burn on his chest in the shape of her palm. She bared her teeth at him and moved on.
She was fury and fear and magic held at bay by her cuffs. Every breath she took was tinged with desperation. Every step she took unraveled her a little faster.
“Some of our monsters are hunters.” The warden sounded cheerful. “We have three reiligarda, and every prisoner now wears a bit of the grave dirt from the sites these creatures were supposed to guard. The scent of the dirt will bring the reiligarda straight to them.”
Sajda’s hands shook as she laid the tip of the dagger against Javan’s arm while the crowd cheered.
“He’ll be safe,” Javan whispered.
She couldn’t answer as she gave him a tiny cut and then smeared a small amount of grave dirt on his chest.
“As our grand predator today, we have a roc, captured high in the mountains that skirt the Samaal Desert.” The warden’s voice boomed. “Every competitor has been cut so that the scent of their blood will draw the bird.”