He was walking into a pit of corruption, violence, and injustice, and by sitting in the royal box, he was sanctioning it all. Did he know that? Or was the confusion on his face a symptom of a once-great mind that no longer understood his present circumstances?
Javan’s heart ached as he watched the king. He wanted to run to his father. To speak to him and hear him call Javan by his name. Whatever his father had become, he was still the gravity that had held Javan to his duty for ten long years. His respect, his regard, was what Javan had been working so hard to earn.
Javan clenched his fists and held himself still as the impostor took the king’s arm, purple sash flowing, face alight with fierce pride.
Hashim wasn’t the only person Javan needed to silence today.
Another trio of royal guards followed the pair as they slowly made their way to the closest staircase and up to the first level. Javan frowned. Uncle Fariq hadn’t come. Javan didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Without his uncle’s influence, it might be easier to convince his father that he was the true prince. But he’d also wanted to confront his uncle’s betrayal in front of all of Akram.
The warden stepped to her platform as the king and the impostor took their seats above Javan’s head. He craned his neck, but he wouldn’t be able to see into the box until he was in the arena, and at that point, he couldn’t afford his focus to be split between his father and the monsters who were coming to kill him.
The crowd fell silent as the warden raised her arms. For a split second, she locked eyes with Javan, and he shivered at the fury on her face. Turning away, he met Sajda’s gaze, his heart thudding in strange, jarring beats.
He might die.
He might win.
Either way, he might not see her again for a very long time.
He tried to put everything she meant to him in his expression. Her eyes darkened, and she pressed one pale hand to her heart, and then she lifted her chin, jerked it toward the arena, and gave him a look that was pure challenge.
She wanted him to win. To gain an audience with the king, be restored to the throne, and leave Maqbara. Even though it meant leaving her behind.
“Competitors, enter the arena!” the warden called.
Hashim was first through the gate, and he went immediately for the short swords lying in the center of the arena. Javan sprinted past him as Iram went for the whip and then the long sword. The prince had just put his hands on the bow and arrow when the warden yelled, “Bring in the beasts!”
Slinging the quiver onto his back, he hooked the bowstring over one arm and raced for the battle-axes. With only one sharp edge, they weren’t as good as the swords, and they were certainly heavier, but they were better than fighting with his hands.
The crowd was seething with anticipation. The monsters for the final round were a mystery. The scoreboard was shrouded with a black cloth, and the crowd would get the excitement of seeing each creature as the warden announced it.
Javan whirled toward the gate in time to see a guard yank on the rope that held the netting above the arena. The crowd clapped wildly as the netting fell. The prince risked a quick glance at the royal platform and found the impostor glaring at him with naked hatred.
The king was sitting quietly, a frown on his face. He wasn’t looking at the arena.
The crowd erupted into cheers as Sajda and another guard ducked under the netting with a cage the size of a barrel of mead balanced between them.
“Our first creatures are vampire bats that can smell blood from three leagues away. They attack in swarms and drink the blood of their prey until the prey is dry.” The warden sounded cheerful at the prospect. “Each kill is worth ten points.”
Sajda lifted the latch on the cage door, and the bats flooded the arena, leathery wings beating the air, fangs gleaming as they circled, searching for blood.
Javan was going to give them what they wanted. Whipping an arrow into his bow, he sent it straight for Hashim.
It buried itself in Hashim’s shoulder, and he went down on one knee. The crowd surged to their feet in a frenzy as Hashim pulled the arrow free and threw it to the ground, but Javan couldn’t hear them. His world was the thunder of his heart, the weight of his weapons, and the horrifying beasts being led to the gate by Sajda.
The bats shrieked and dove, a spiraling swarm of black bodies and white teeth. Hashim screamed as they landed on him, tearing at his bleeding wound with their fangs. Javan focused on the gate as Iram moved to stand beside him.
“Sa’ Loham, what is that?” Iram breathed, his hands clutching his weapons with desperate strength.
The warden’s voice echoed over the sound of bats. “Our next pair of beasts are the legendary rencapal! Each kill will be worth fifty points.”
The two enormous horselike creatures Sajda was leading into the arena were nearly twice as broad as an Akramian racing stallion. Their coats looked to be made of shadows that shifted and twisted independently of the creatures’ movements; their eyes glowed black; and their hooves and teeth were iron.
“Demon steeds from the mountains north of Loch Talam,” Javan said quietly, another arrow already at his bow. “Don’t let either of them get close. They can trample us in seconds.”
He sent an arrow into the chest of the rencapal on the left. It screamed in furious pain and charged.
Whipping another arrow into the bow, he shot again.
The beast kept coming.
Yl’ Haliq be merciful, what did it take to kill this thing?
The second rencapal took its cue from the first and charged as well.
“The whip!” Javan yelled as he nocked another arrow.
Iram slashed at the incoming beasts, his iron-studded whip cracking through the air. One rencapal shied. The one with the arrows sticking out of its chest kept coming.
It was twenty paces away.
Javan sent another arrow, this time into its neck, and its nostrils flared as it bore down on him, black eyes glowing with rage.
All he’d managed to do was anger it.
Tossing the bow to the ground, he grabbed the battle-axes and readied himself. When the steed was five paces out, he dove to the side, slashing at the tendons on the creature’s massive forelegs as he went.
The rencapal crashed to its knees. Leaping on its back, Javan quickly sliced the artery in its neck. Blood gushed, and the beast slowly toppled.
Javan leaped clear, and it was only after he heard the rush of leathery wings that he realized his hands were covered with the creature’s blood. Iram’s long sword swooped past Javan’s head, and the bodies of five bats went skimming across the arena floor.