Slave, Warrior, Queen

by Morgan Rice

  “I thought you were dead,” he said, stroking her back, squeezing her tight.

  He rained kisses on her face, drying up her tears, and then he pressed his soft warm mouth to hers. But his lips were gone even before she had a chance to enjoy their first kiss.

  “I was worried sick about you,” he said, clutching her tightly. “Sartes said he saw you outside your father’s shed, but that you vanished after that.”

  “Are my brothers here?” she asked.

  “Not at the moment,” Rexus replied. ‘They are on an assignment.”

  Ceres felt her heart sink, but she nodded and took a step back.

  “This is my friend Anka,” she said, placing a hand on her new friend’s shoulder. “She was also in the slaver wagon. She needs a place to stay.”

  “In a slaver wagon? That’s why you look the way you do,” Rexus said, playful eyes running up and down her body.

  Ceres socked him in the shoulder.

  “You certainly don’t look any better than me,” she said with a smirk, causing Rexus to laugh.

  “Please get Fausta for me,” Rexus said to a guard. He turned to Ceres, a conflicted look on his face. “Are you not staying?”

  Ceres was torn. Part of her wanted to stay here with Rexus and her brothers, but a huge part of her wanted to work as a weapon-keeper.

  “I have been hired by Prince Thanos as his weapon-keeper.”

  Rexus’s eyes flared, and then he nodded.

  An elderly woman waddled toward them with the guard, her crinkly skin white as snow, her eyes filled with years of suffering and wisdom.

  “Fausta,” Rexus said. “Please see to it that Anka is given a place to stay. And make sure she has food and dry clothes.”

  The old woman opened her frail arms and embraced the newcomer.

  “You have a new home now, and we will see each other often,” Ceres said to Anka. “I owe you my life and I shall never forget you.”

  Anka smiled softly and nodded. She gave Ceres a hug, and then she followed Fausta into the courtyard.

  Taking Ceres’s hand in his, Rexus grabbed the horse’s reins and escorted them toward the stable. Once there, he let go of Ceres and led the horse to the water trough.

  “You have a new sword,” he said, not looking back, stroking the horse’s mane.

  The mare whinnied in approval.

  “Yes. A gift from my father,” she said, her hand automatically feeling for it, a pang of sadness overwhelming her.

  But she didn’t want to talk about sad things.

  “The rebellion seems to have grown,” she said.

  “Since I last brought you here, our supporters have tripled in number,” he said.

  It made Ceres happy to see wonderment in his eyes.

  They walked outside and sat down on a wooden bench, Rexus facing her. He gently stroked her hair, and then caressed her face.

  A void opened within her chest when she thought of saying good-bye, and again she entertained the idea of remaining here.

  “Perhaps I will stay with you,” she said.

  Rexus pressed his lips together.

  “I would love that, but I think the best thing is if you keep your appointment at the palace,” he said.

  Ceres knew he was right, but still, it hurt to hear him say she should go.

  “Here, we have many supporters,” Rexus continued. “But we have no one working within the palace walls.”

  “I don’t know how much access I would have to the inside or the other royals,” she said.

  “If you gain Prince Thanos’s trust, I’m certain he would give you access to all the rebellion needs. When the moment is right, you could lead us inside the palace, securing our victory,” he said.

  Ceres’s stomach churned at the thought of gaining Prince Thanos’s trust only to betray him. But why? Perhaps it was because he did trust her and had given her a chance where others would not. Or perhaps it was because he despised his family and what they stood for just as much as any commoner.

  Either way, Rexus was right: by doing this, she could help the rebellion like no one else. In fact, her presence inside the castle walls was just what the rebellion needed, and could very well play a significant part in the downfall of the Empire.

  She nodded, and for a brief moment, they held each other’s eyes.

  Not wanting to drag out the farewell, the sadness already overwhelming her, Ceres rose to her feet and walked into the barn. Just as she was about to mount the horse, she heard Rexus enter behind her. While securing the saddle, she glanced back.

  “I must go so I am not late for the palace. Please take care of my brothers, and Anka,” she said.

  Rexus placed a hand on her shoulder and tingles spread through Ceres’s body. Ceres thought about the kiss they had shared earlier. Had he meant to kiss her as a friend, or something more? She wanted it to be more. She knew if she turned around, she would find his eyes and his lips would meet hers. And then she wouldn’t be able to tear herself away.

  So without another word she mounted her horse and kicked, galloping away, far from this place, and toward the palace—determined not to look back for anything.

  CHAPTER NINE

  As the sun broke over the horizon and with hardly a second to spare, Ceres galloped through the palace gates, dropped off the horse at the royal stables, and darted toward the palace training ground. When she was almost halfway, she noticed her sword brushing against her leg, and she stopped. Would someone see her sword and perhaps even steal it from her if she brought it? She knew there was no time, and she could be fired for being late, but under no circumstances could she afford to lose this sword.

  As fast as her feet could carry her, she sprinted back to the blacksmith’s chalet, and finding the place empty, she climbed up the ladder to the loft. There, behind a pile of old planks and crooked twigs, she hid her sword before tearing toward the palace training ground.

  When she arrived—breathless, heart thumping wildly— to her surprise, she saw that the entire court had gathered around the practice arena. The king and queen sat on their thrones, princes and princesses on chairs beneath the willow trees, fanning themselves, and the advisors and dignitaries sat on benches, whispering to each other.

  In the practice arena, combatlords sparred against royals, and weapon-keepers were watching their masters, handing off swords, daggers, tridents, shields, and floggers. Since she could remember, Ceres had yearned for an opportunity like this, but now that the moment was here, she felt empty inside.

  “Ceres!” Thanos yelled, waving to her.

  She didn’t know why, but when she saw him again, her heart stirred. Then she reprimanded herself. She had to remember why she was here, which was to befriend her enemies and gain their trust, not be amused by a handsome prince who somehow seemed to put her under his spell.

  Ceres ran over to Thanos.

  “Right on time,” he said with a nod.

  “Of course,” she said as if getting here hadn’t been a miracle and a half.

  An Empire soldier marched to the center of the arena.

  “All royal warriors, hastily line up before King Claudius, your weapon-keepers behind you,” he said.

  The royals stopped what they were doing and Ceres followed Thanos, taking her place behind him. She noticed that Lucious was back. Had he reconsidered? Been forced to return?

  “You’re wondering about Lucious?” Thanos asked, glancing back at her.

  “Yes.”

  Ceres wasn’t sure whether she hated it or liked it that he was so in tune with her thoughts.

  “One doesn’t say no to the king,” Thanos whispered.

  She wanted to ask why, but the king rose, holding a golden bowl up, and the gathering hushed.

  “This dish is filled with the names of each of our royal warriors,” the king said. “Today I will select three names who will fight in the Killings at noon.”

  The crowd gasped, each royal warrior and their weapon-keepers included.


  But the Killings weren’t supposed to be until next month, Ceres thought. Had the king just on a whim scheduled the Killings for today?

  She glanced at Thanos, but he stood rigid as a board, his face forward so she couldn’t see his expression. They weren’t ready to fight in the Killings, Ceres knew. None of them were. They hadn’t been given enough time to train together, to get to know each other’s fighting styles.

  Winding her hands tightly into fists, she focused on keeping her breathing steady. Only three of twelve would be selected, so there was still a chance they didn’t have to fight today.

  The king reached his chubby hand into the bowl and pulled out a slip.

  “Lucious!” he yelled, an evil grin emerging on his lips.

  Ceres exhaled and glanced over at Lucious, seeing that his face had turned as red as a beet. The onlookers clapped, although their applause was far from enthusiastic. Did they think this was unfair, too? Ceres wondered.

  The king reached into the bowl again and drew a name.

  “Georgio!” he hollered, his eyes slithering to the end of the line where Georgio waited.

  A woman who looked old enough to be Georgio’s mother stood up began to sob, yelling obscenities toward the king, but when she stepped onto the practice arena, she was escorted away by Empire soldiers.

  Ceres huffed and kept her eyes trained on Thanos’s broad back. Only one name left, she told herself. The chances of Thanos being selected were slim.

  Reaching his hand into the bowl a third time, the king glanced at Thanos and the right side of his lip rose.

  Ceres saw Thanos’s shoulders tense, and immediately she knew something wasn’t quite right. Had the king planned this? Rigged this?

  Her heart nearly stopped.

  “And last but not least, Thanos!” the king exclaimed with a smug smile.

  The crowd went silent for a moment, but when the queen started to applaud with fervent enthusiasm, the others followed.

  “The risk of death is great, my chosen ones. May you each represent your sovereign and Empire with honor and strength,” the king continued.

  The king sat down and an Empire soldier explained the rules of the Killings, but Ceres could hardly listen to a word he said, she was so shocked.

  “Weapon-keepers who assist in the battle will be put to death…no more than three weapons on any one warrior at one time…no helping other combatlords…thumbs-up means the defeated lives, thumbs-down means the defeated must be slayed…” the Empire soldier said.

  When he finished, Ceres stood frozen, staring out into thin air.

  She vaguely registered that Thanos had turned around and was facing her. He grabbed her arm and shook it.

  “Ceres!” he said.

  Disoriented, she looked up into his face.

  “Bartholomew is back. If you would like, I can have him be my weapon-keeper today,” Thanos said.

  At first, her heart leapt in her chest and she wanted to shout yes. Yes! But then she thought of the conversation she had had with Rexus. How would she earn Thanos’s trust if she backed out now? She wouldn’t.

  “Is that what you want?” she asked.

  “I prefer to work with you, but seeing the rules have changed, I will not hold it against you if you decide to sit this round out,” he said.

  She couldn’t believe it. Here he was giving her freedom, and she was scheming how to best earn his trust so she could destroy him and his family. A feeling of guilt began to take root.

  But then she remembered her people’s suffering: the young boy who had been whipped in Fountain Square and hauled off to an unknown destination, the girl who had died in the slaver wagon alone and afraid, her brothers who never went to bed with full bellies, and her father who had to leave his family to make money elsewhere.

  If she didn’t stand up for them, who would?

  “Then I will be your weapon-keeper today and for as long as you would have me,” Ceres said.

  Thanos nodded, and a hint of a smile graced his lips.

  “We shall conquer together,” he said.

  *

  With sweaty hands and an unsettled stomach, Ceres peered down the tunnel underneath the Stade. The passageway was crawling with Empire soldiers, combatlords, and weapon-keepers, weapons of every kind lining the walls, strewn across the gravel floors.

  She sat down on a bench mere feet away from the iron gates, waiting for her and Thanos’s turn, the crowd chanting like a dragon outside.

  “Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!” they shouted.

  The onlookers roared, and not a minute later, the iron gates opened, chains clattering, and in strode two Empire soldiers, each hauling mutilated, dead combatlords. They threw one corpse on top of the other onto the dirt floor right across from where Ceres sat, and then they darted back out into the arena.

  Ceres startled when the iron gate slammed shut behind them, and she couldn’t help but slide her eyes toward the lifeless bodies. Just minutes ago, those men had stood in front of her full of vigor, certain they would be triumphant in today’s competition. Now they rested in a heap on the floor, never to rise again.

  When she glanced up at Thanos, his eyes were already on her, those impossibly dark irises carrying solemnity that Ceres had only ever seen in the dying. Was he afraid like she was? she wondered.

  She watched as he tightened the thick leather belt around his canvas loincloth, his rigid abdomen exposed. She could hardly believe what little protection he wore: a single leather shoulder guard covering his right arm. Most of the other warriors hid behind heavy armor and shining helmets.

  Ceres had been given a uniform: a blue short-sleeved tunic that reached to her knees, a silk rope around her waist, and soft leather knee-high boots that resembled Thanos’s. Although she didn’t particularly like it, she was glad to be out of her old clothes that did nothing but remind her of her old life.

  “Did the king set you up?” Ceres asked, remembering King Claudius’s sly expression when he hand-picked the royal warriors’ names from the golden bowl.

  “Yes,” Thanos said.

  She clenched her teeth and a fire of hate burned within.

  “This isn’t right,” she said.

  “No, it isn’t,” Thanos said, sitting down beside her, tightening the straps on his boots. “But if there is one thing I have learned, it is that you don’t refuse the king.”

  “Have you refused him before?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “For what?”

  “I wouldn’t marry the princess he had chosen for me.”

  She stared at him for a moment, stunned. She was amazed at the courage that must have taken. Perhaps the girl was hideous, although Ceres hadn’t seen any hideous princesses her entire life, all of them dressed in fine clothing, bathed in sweet-smelling perfumes, and adorned with exquisite jewelry.

  She looked away, wondering who this young man really was. A rebel? Ceres had not once considered that there might be a nonconformist within the palace walls.

  She had a whole new respect for Thanos. Perhaps he was not the boy she thought he was. Which made her feel even sicker to betray him.

  “And what of Lucious and Georgio?” she asked.

  “The king despises them for other reasons.”

  “But how can the king can just randomly—”

  He interrupted her, his voice impatient.

  “Just because I am royalty doesn’t mean I have a say in my life.”

  Ceres hadn’t thought about that. She had always assumed the royals were free to do as they pleased and that they ruled as one big enemy.

  “All the pomp and haughtiness, the rules, decorum, frivolous spending…it drives me to the brink of insanity,” he said, almost growling.

  Ceres was taken aback that he would say such things about the royals and didn’t know exactly what to say to him. Instead, she looked out the iron gates, and just as she did, she saw a combatlord stab Georgio’s weapon-keeper through the abdomen.

  Her hand hit h
er mouth and she gasped.

  In her naiveté, she had assumed she was safe from other combatlords since she wasn’t the one fighting. A sense of dread gripped her shoulders and she noticed how her hands shook even more than before.

  An Empire soldier approached, telling Thanos it was his turn to fight next, and that he would be fighting together with Lucious against two other combatlords.

  With a parched throat, Ceres said, “We have to stick together if we are to make it out alive.”

  Thanos nodded, a quiet understanding between them.

  They stood up and walked over to the iron gates, each in their own thoughts for some time.

  “I won’t kill unless I have to,” Thanos suddenly said.

  Ceres nodded, wondering if this was one more way he planned to defy the king.

  “I need to know I can trust you with my life,” he said without looking away from the arena.

  “You can trust me with your life,” Ceres said, wondering if he heard the slight hesitation in her voice.

  He closed his eyes and nodded.

  “You can trust me with your life, too, Ceres,” he said.

  She didn’t know why, but his words sank into her bones, and she felt they were true. Despite herself, she was feeling an intense bond with him.

  Lucious and his weapon-keeper stepped up behind Thanos and Ceres, and Ceres noticed Lucious’s shiny full body armor and visored helmet. No amount of armor will save a sloppy warrior’s life, she thought.

  The iron gates swung open, and in came Georgio alive, his body drenched in sweat, blood dripping from a few lacerations to his arms and abdomen. An Empire soldier dragged his weapon-keeper in behind him and flung him on top of the other cadavers on the floor.

  Ceres’s entire body started to shake.

  “Stay close to me,” Thanos said, his eyes straight forward as if in a trance, his jaw clenching.

  Just as the Empire soldier nodded for them to exit, Lucious shoved Ceres out of the way and entered the arena first, his arms held high in the air as if in victory. The masses went wild, and he paraded around for a few moments, reveling in their approval.

  At any other time than this very moment, his behavior would have irritated Ceres to no end, but standing here, inhaling what could quite possibly be her last breath, she paid no attention to the approval-seeking fool.