“You kids won’t get credit for watching if you don’t get your papers stamped at the entrance.”
I looked up to see a narrow-eyed woman sticking her head out a window above us. Maroon pantaloons hung from the clothesline next to her, fluttering in her freckled face until she yanked them off their hooks.
Blue stepped back slightly. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, you don’t know? You must be from out of town,” the woman replied. “I suppose you don’t need to worry then. It’s mandatory that all citizens of the citadel attend at least two Mercy Pit fights per week; four if you own a business. You receive a stamp on your tax document every time you attend, but visitors have no use for that. Lucky for you.”
I was about to respond when the cheers suddenly escalated. I pivoted back to look at the arena, as did my friends.
“Ladies and gentleman,” an announcer called, standing at the center of the combat zone. His face filled every one of the giant screens, and the projection orbs served to magnify his voice as well. “And now for a special treat. All rise and welcome … your king, Rampart Pendragon!”
The applause nearly drove me deaf. Every person in the canyon rose to his or her feet and turned to face a private viewing box that resided just over the concrete wall on the right. It was open on all sides and framed with gold and navy silks and Camelot flags. A railing at the front kept its spectators safe from the fall below. Just under that railing hung a massive Camelot flag that must’ve been at least twelve feet long. A man emerged from the tunnel beneath the flag. His face lit up the holographic screens. He had dark hair, was fairly tall, and based on his gait and the way he spun his sword, carried a little too much confidence.
“How is Rampart a Pendragon?” I said. “I thought Arthur never had any children and that he was an only child.”
“He was,” Blue responded. She was our resident expert on fairytale lore. “Mordred was technically his half-brother. But he was killed shortly after he ‘killed’ Arthur.”
“So how is this guy related to him?”
The announcer’s words overpowered our conversation as his voice, like his image, was amplified across the arena through the projection orbs. “And as for the challenger,” he continued. “Here we have a traitor guilty of conspiring with some of the crown’s most hated disloyalists.”
A man with massive biceps, a bald head, and no shirt was forced out of a tunnel across the arena. He wore shackles on his wrists and was escorted by four burly guards. Upon reaching the center of the arena, the guards removed the shackles and then withdrew.
Three women dressed entirely in black came out of the tunnel beneath the private viewing box. Their long-sleeved dresses were fitted, as were the scarves they had wrapped around their heads to conceal everything but their eyes. Each pushed a cart loaded with weapons into the middle of the arena.
The bald man rubbed his wrists, shot Rampart a glare, then selected a spiked club from a cart. He looked around the canyon and took a few steps back, taking it in.
His build was much bigger than Rampart’s. He would’ve given even Big Girtha—my burly, gigantic friend back at Lady Agnue’s—a run for her money. Yet Rampart seemed unfazed. He waved to the audience and they cheered in response.
The projection orbs rotated their shots between Rampart and the bald man. My eyes followed the tiny figures of the announcer and the women in black. All of them made their way to the area beneath the private viewing box. However, while the women exited through the same tunnel they’d come out of, the announcer stopped just under the box.
One of the projection orbs cut to displaying him on a bigger screen and a sudden hush filled the entire stadium. A much older woman in regal attire appeared at the edge of the private viewing box. She had curly, white-ish blond hair and wore countless jewels that glittered in the afternoon sun. Next to her stood a golden gong on an intricate stand.
The regal old woman held out her right hand. A silvery glow came out of her palm and enveloped the announcer, who gracefully levitated off the ground to join her and the other courtiers in the box.
This woman—whoever she was—had magic.
The announcer raised his hands and the crowd hushed. Then he grabbed a mallet brought to him by an attendant and swung it against the gong.
“Fight!” he roared.
The applause started anew and the challenger charged at Rampart.
This fight was way more intense than the previous one. The man taking on the king clearly knew what he was doing. He was formidable and fast. On more than one occasion I thought his spiked club would take off Rampart’s head. Alas, the king was also formidable and fast. The pair fought for three minutes—a nail-biting combat if I’d ever seen one.
One misstep of the bald man gave Rampart his opening. The king ducked underneath his opponent’s swinging club and leapt forward, driving his sword up. Again I looked away, not wanting to see a sword impale someone’s chest if I didn’t have to.
The audience applauded the end of the fight. I opened my eyes to see Rampart bowing gallantly.
“Hypocrites,” the woman above us said.
We glanced up.
“If you say anything about this place when you leave, tell the rest of Camelot that the citadel is full of hypocrites,” the woman said. “Most of the people in that arena support the Gwenivere Brigade and hate Rampart. They would love nothing more than to see him killed after all the suffering he’s caused. But out of fear, they applaud him.”
“What’s the Gwenivere Brigade?” Jason asked.
“The group that the crown considers the most dangerous kind of disloyalists. It’s a rebel faction in Camelot started by King Arthur’s wife after he was killed.”
The woman shook her head with disappointment as if mourning a memory. “If you kids want a real show, come back this evening. Apparently, as part of King Rampart’s big party, tonight’s activity is a special fight. They say it’s going to be something else. And given our ruler, that means a lot of pain and a lot of suffering.”
With that the woman returned inside her apartment, slamming the shutters of her window. I took one more glimpse at the arena. Rampart was being levitated up to the private viewing box in the same fashion as the announcer. When he landed and the silvery glow around him evaporated, the old woman put a hand on his shoulder affectionately.
“Who do you think that woman is?” Daniel asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “But we have better things to do than wait around to find out. Let’s get out of here. I’m tired of watching unfair fights.”
hate shopping,” Blue remarked.
She was in the changing room next to mine so I couldn’t see her face, but I could guess there was a scowl on it.
“It’s hard to argue with the results though,” I replied, stepping out of my own changing room. I stood in front of the full-length, three-paneled mirror and admired my gorgeous gown.
In search of the right royal clothes, we’d perused a few designer shops in the apparel district before finally settling on this one. Jason was in another part of the store trying on suits while Daniel was running an errand for SJ.
To say I loved my dress would’ve been an understatement. I adored combat boots and leggings (they were my usual jam), but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy wearing gowns if they fit me properly and didn’t limit my abilities. “Pretty” can apply to a lot of looks, both casual and formal. And this outfit made me feel just so.
My periwinkle blue dress had a sheen that caught the light just enough to catch someone’s attention. The main bodice was like a fitted dress that only came to mid-thigh, so I could still move my legs. Additional thick material flared out from the waist at the sides and fell to my ankles, leaving my legs exposed in the front and covered in the back.
“And I thought I had seen everything,” SJ said as she came out of her changing room.
She wore a fitted, floor-length dark purple gown with a slit up the right side that went well above the k
nee. The dress had one sleeve on the left arm, which featured a small cutout on the shoulder. The metallic belt at her waist matched her strappy shoes and the headband she’d placed over her braided, raven-black hair.
“Are you wearing high heels?” she asked in astonishment.
I looked down at my feet, which I had pushed into a pair of simple black pumps. With the front of the dress fully exposing my legs, I needed to look the part if I wanted to blend in with the royal crowd.
“Sometimes a girl’s gotta make sacrifices,” I replied. It was the truth and I could handle it. I’d been to enough balls in my life that I could maneuver just fine in heels, even if I was not a fan of them.
“Speaking of sacrifices …” Our heads turned to Blue peeking out of her changing room. “Don’t laugh, okay?”
Blue stepped out in a crinkled chiffon dress that featured a plunging neckline and a high front slit. The dress was color blocked with long, vertical stripes from top to bottom in three shades: mint, cream, and light pink. The stripes of graceful fabric flowed behind her as she walked, and she completed the look with a waist-accentuating eyelet belt and strappy silver sandals.
“What are you talking about?” I said. “You look awesome.”
“But there is hardly any place to put my weapons,” Blue protested. “The only one I could fit is here.” She lifted the right side of her dress to reveal a holster with her hunting knife strapped to the upper part of her thigh. “You’re so lucky your wand changes forms.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I felt beyond grateful that my trusty weapon could be disguised as the hairpin currently attached to my bra strap.
“Even SJ is packing more than I am,” Blue continued. “Or at least she will be once Daniel gets back with—”
“You all decent?” Daniel called from outside the changing area.
“Speak of the hero,” I said.
“You can come in, Daniel. We are ready,” SJ replied.
Daniel pushed aside the magenta curtain separating the women’s dressing area from the rest of the store. He was holding a shiny metal necklace.
“Wow. You guys look great,” he said, genuinely impressed.
“Thanks,” Blue replied, playfully draping her arms around SJ and me. “Hope you’re not having second thoughts about being the getaway driver. You’ll be sitting in a carriage with the company of two smelly horses when you could be at a party with three stunning protagonists.”
“Shut up, Blue,” I said, laughing. “And anyway, Daniel volunteered.”
We knew we needed to have a quick means of escape once we’d gotten what we came for. I didn’t know how long it would take to find this Boar’s Mouth, or figure out how to get blessed by it, but we could not afford to waste a single minute.
I honestly didn’t know if Arian and his allies could capture Arthur and force the king to complete the pledge of The Pentecostal Oath with Alex. But I did believe that my enemies would send forces to stop us in our search for Excalibur. Based on when and where the next wormhole in Neverland had been scheduled to open, and the amount of time it took to get to the citadel, I figured the soonest Arian’s goons could get here would be in two hours.
Unless they get eaten by giants, which is preferable, but unlikely.
Our plan was in motion. We had rented a carriage and a couple of horses. Daniel was going to act as our valet and drive us to the castle. When our ride merged into the traffic of arriving nobles, the four of us would head for the stables. Hopefully, once there we would find Jedidiah’s daughter and she’d get us inside the castle. Maybe she even knew where the Boar’s Mouth was. With any luck, my team and I would find it, get the job done quickly, and then meet Daniel back in the stables where he would be waiting for us to make a clean break.
“I realize this may be a bit unnecessary, but better safe than sorry given our history,” SJ said as Daniel handed her the metal necklace.
On our way to the clothing shops, SJ had spotted a sign for an ironworker who claimed he could forge any kind of jewelry design in thirty minutes or less. An idea had popped into her head and SJ had gone inside and drawn the man a sketch of what she wanted. True to his word, he had been able to create the necklace in under half an hour. Ten empty settings for round jewels sat in the thin iron collar design. However, SJ was not planning on sporting precious stones tonight.
My friend looked over her new accessory, very pleased, and began pulling portable potions out of her potions sack, which she snapped into each of the empty settings. A simple rubber hairband around her wrist would serve as her slingshot. She had practice firing with such a simple tool before, and as her sack and actual slingshot would clearly be out of place with her dress, they’d have to wait in the carriage with the rest of our stuff.
“Have I told you lately how brilliant you are?” I asked, marveling at the necklace.
“Not today,” SJ replied with a smirk. “But it usually goes without saying.”
I smiled. I liked it when SJ let her smarts and sassiness shine through. She was too modest about how amazing she was sometimes. The best friend I knew was finally coming back with confidence. Maybe even stronger than before.
“All right,” I said, grabbing my backpack from the changing room. “Let’s go see if Jason’s ready so we can get going.”
I shoved my clothes, Blue’s clothes, and her utility belt of throwing knives into my backpack. SJ stashed her clothes, slingshot, and potions sack inside hers.
We carried our boots as we exited the dressing room. Blue stumbled as we entered the main store. She claimed she’d tripped on her flowy dress, but I suspected the falter had more to do with Jason. He was waiting for us. And he looked hot.
My friendship with the boy was as platonic as a relationship could be. He was practically like a brother, or a really close cousin. But the teenage girl part of me recognized that he looked as handsome as any hero ever could. Knowing how Blue felt about him, I understood why she had been knocked off balance.
“You all look awesome,” he said as Blue composed herself.
“That seems to be the consensus,” I replied with a playful grin.
We paid for our outfits and made our way outside. The carriage we’d acquired was rather plain. There was a rickety door on the right side, but the rear of the carriage was covered only by a thick tarp. A small ramp lay inside, folded against the floor, probably meant for loading heavy cargo. As my friends climbed into the carriage I headed for the front to sit next to Daniel, but he held up his hand.
“Not that I don’t welcome the company, Knight, but if you’re the princess and I’m the chauffeur, then I think you should ride in back. We’re trying to blend in with the other royals.”
“Oh, right.”
I filed into the carriage behind Blue. There were built-in bench seats on both sides, which could be lifted to store cargo underneath. Blue put my backpack in the left compartment and I shut the carriage door. Then we were in motion, merging into the traffic.
As we moved forward, I propped my head on my hand and stared out the window. The roads were bustling and getting busier the closer we got to the castle. Daniel was using the street directions on the back of the brochure SJ found earlier to get us there.
I watched the people and places go by. The atmosphere was growing pink and hazy as the sun began to retire for the day.
After this there are only three more sunsets until the Vicennalia Aurora.
As shadows set in and the colors in the sky shifted, I thought about everything that had shifted since the commons rebellion attacks on my home and other kingdoms a few days ago.
Commons had tried to rebel against our realm’s class system before, but this time they were gaining traction because the antagonists were helping them. I believed the antagonists were doing this to weaken the protagonists while the villains focused on their real plan for the realm.
I hoped Book’s higher-ups could see that. Recently my friends and I had revealed to them the truth about the antagonist
s’ plans to overthrow our realm and kill all its protagonists. However, a serious part of me suspected that the higher-ups hadn’t disseminated that information to the rest of the populace yet. Our realm’s ambassadors and Fairy Godmothers liked keeping the greater citizenry on a need-to-know-basis. And with the commons rebellion—a very real danger that everyone already knew about—needing to be handled, I doubted they wanted to throw more panic into the mix. I guess we would find out when we got back.
I checked my Hole Tracker for the time. It was quarter past six. Most of the shops had closed early for Vicennalia Aurora festivities. Conversely, the pubs were filling up fast. I watched a family of five—two parents, two boys, and a young girl—merrily stride into a tavern, chatting animatedly.
A twisting sensation filled my stomach and I realized I was jealous. I would never have such a moment again. Thanks to Alex, my family was broken. Resting my head against the window, I thought about how much my old life dissipated with each new chapter we turned.
I didn’t know why the universe had decided to saddle me with so much responsibility; but I wasn’t complaining. I accepted my role in this story and was going to do everything I could to influence the conclusion. The only thing that readily plagued me now was the understanding that on my way to achieving this ending, a lot of things would be lost along the way.
I knew all good things in life came with a cost. If you wanted to lose weight and get in shape, you ate healthy and exercised. If you wanted to get better grades in school, you studied more and partied less. If you wanted to achieve a goal of any kind, you had to do the work. But I hadn’t realized that the cost of forging my new world would be sacrificing my old one.
If I could go back, in all honesty there was nothing I would do differently. Every ounce of pain, every obstacle, every choice had led me here. And here was where I needed to be. Still, that didn’t mean the past was any easier to let go of. I missed Alex. I missed living in a world where people weren’t always trying to hurt me.
As if reading my thoughts, Blue put her hand on my shoulder. I glanced away from the window and she smiled at me softly. I returned her smile and sat back.
Crisanta Knight: To Death & Back Page 9